#i ended up financing even though i could have almost paid cash

[ohsilverplease]

I bought a car! I’m so glad to not have to think about this again for at least 5 years 🤞

But almost more exciting is that I had a near perfect credit score, 895 out of 900, which apparently is the range used by car dealers. The guy told me to frame the paper lol.

[inttellinews]

Two Harvard Twins (No, Not Those Twins) Run One of the World’s Worst BDCs. They’re About to Get Rich.

Okay, pay attention. Medley Management, for all intents and purposes, is really just twin brothers Seth and Brook Taube. They own the majority of Medley Management and are paid by Medley Capital, a business development company — more on this in a bit — to make investment decisions. They have, according to numerous analysts, including Wells Fargo, one of the worst records in doing this job of anyone in the entire industry. And despite a flurry of legal filings, public critiques, and a Delaware court ruling, they are now on the verge of convincing Medley Capital not only to keep paying them, but maybe even to buy them outright. How? Because this is exactly the way the world of BDC management works.

Reader, be warned: This is a story filled with numbers, but numbers are not the story. I could tell you about how the performance of Medley Capital has plummeted since it went public — a feat that happened at the same time as the industry blossomed. I could tell you that BDCs are one of the last areas where serious investors are prohibited from being meaningful stakeholders, and that the law allows things that would be unthinkable in other realms of finance. But what I’m going to tell you is how Medley, Seth and Brook Taube, and the hysteria surrounding their maneuvers is not a bug of the BDC world, but a feature.

They have exploded in popularity along with the rise of private credit in the past decade. Both BDCs and mutual funds are governed by the Securities and Exchange Commission’s Investment Company Act — written nearly 80 years ago, in 1940. Medley Management makes money by charging incentive fees based on how good it is at picking investments. It also rakes in cash through an annual management fee that is charged whether performance is exceptional or horrible.

Medley’s roots go back to 2005. That’s when Brook and Seth, both of whom have BAs from Harvard University, teamed up with Richard Medley to launch a credit hedge fund with a socially responsible focus. A former adviser to George Soros, Richard Medley left about a year after the founding (he died in 2011), and the firm dropped the impact part of its mandate. During the financial crisis, Medley Management prevented investors from withdrawing their money as it struggled to sell illiquid assets. The firm would later transfer six of the hedge fund’s best-performing assets to what’s now Medley Capital. The twins took the BDC public in 2011. (Through a spokesman at public relations firm Gasthalter & Co., the Taubes declined to comment for this article.)

Medley launched its BDC just as the product was becoming popular with investors and advisers, who were clamoring to earn interest on their investments. Government and corporate bonds paid almost nothing, whereas private debt offered double-digit rates. Medley rode that wave of BDC popularity.

By 2017 the Taube brothers had decided to attempt a sale of Medley Management. Why? Because its finances were in disarray. After years of suffering from bad investments, Medley Capital and other funds it chose investments for — including one called Sierra — were shrinking, depriving Medley Management of lucrative management and incentive fees.

The Taube brothers weren’t entirely crazy to think they could sell the asset manager. After all, BDCs were hot. There were a bunch of lucrative deals happening.

For one, Howard Marks’ Oaktree bought Fifth Street Asset Management — as bad a performer as Medley — for $320 million in cash. This was after Fifth Street settled a class-action lawsuit claiming the manager had inflated the value of its investments, and while the SEC was also investigating the firm. Fifth Street settled with the SEC over the allegations, which included the valuation lapses, at the end of 2018. What’s more, even though the board of Medley Capital could have fired Medley Management at any time, with a new asset manager even paying shareholders for the management contract, the Taubes didn’t need to worry about that either. Josh Easterly, a Goldman veteran and CEO of TPG Specialty Lending’s BDC — one of the industry’s best — failed to win a proxy fight to take over another poorly performing BDC in 2016. TICC Capital, the manager of the BDC, didn’t want anything to do with TPG because it wouldn’t have gained anything in the deal. If Easterly couldn’t do it, according to industry experts, bad managers had nothing to fear.

But the Taubes were wrong about being able to sell — at least at the price they wanted.

When the first attempt to sell that year failed, the brothers fired their bankers and hired new ones. One CEO of a credit shop laughed when a new banker called him about the same deal. It’s true that almost every major credit manager out there took a look at Medley, with many even signing nondisclosure agreements barring them from separately offering to save shareholders and manage investments for Medley Capital directly. But almost none of these firms were seriously interested in buying Medley Management; it had invested in deals that many thought were terrible, with some doubting the prices Medley had assigned to the private assets in its portfolios.

The Taubes might not have been able to convince an asset manager to buy Medley Management, but they might be able to convince the shareholders of Medley Capital to buy Medley Management — the adviser that had lost them half their money.

Huh? Yup.

In the spring of 2018, Brook Taube came up with the idea as he was facing the prospect of another earnings call for Medley Management without being able to offer up some kind of deal.

Here’s what Medley Management ultimately proposed at board meetings in June. Sierra, a private BDC held by retail investors who rarely vote their shares, would merge with Medley Capital. The combined BDC would buy Medley Management at a far higher price — a 100 percent premium to its stock price at the time — than anybody had offered the year before, despite its performance being even worse. Taube argued that the combined BDC would have the advantage of scale and that a few BDCs with so-called internalized managers traded at higher multiples than those with external managers because costs were often lower. The proposal also included lucrative employment contracts at the “internalized manager” for the Taube brothers and a college friend who was also an executive at Medley. For the Taubes, employment contracts were even better than just management fees.

But the Taube brothers needed to deal with the inherent conflicts in a three-way merger where all the organizations were interconnected and had boards filled with many of the same directors. For one, Medley Capital’s inside directors, including the Taubes, also sat on the boards of Medley Management and Sierra. To adhere to governance rules requiring that the deals be done fairly, each board created a special committee made up of independent directors — those presumably without ties to the Taubes — to evaluate the merger.

The problem was that the Medley Capital directors weren’t truly independent. “The proxy creates the misleading impression that the special committee replicated arm’s-length negotiations amid the conflicts tainting the Proposed Transactions,” reads an opinion from the Delaware Chancery Court. The court issued its opinion after a March 2019 trial, when one of Medley Capital’s large shareholders sued to stop the transactions.

Yes, dear reader, it was complicated — yet plenty of law firms, bankers, and consultants were happy to help. And just as happily, BDC rules allowed all these fees to be paid from the assets of Medley Capital and Sierra.

Board members went to work hiring bankers and other advisers to compare executive pay packages and run “comps” on other BDC deals. Though management wasn’t supposed to influence any of the decisions, Brook Taube was busy texting the independent directors of the special committees and their bankers throughout the process, pushing them to speed it up. He admonished them not to consider “interlopers,” or other asset managers that were expressing interest in the deal. Directors in turn were enthusiastically texting and emailing back that they were behind him. One independent director texted Taube, “Are we on track? Anything you need from me?” Taube responded, “Let’s talk soon / Pushing Hard :-),” according to court documents.

Directors were also negotiating with him about continuing their employment as directors on the board of the new organization.

Brook Taube was texting away — but he was also keeping the directors in the dark about key details that could influence their decision, according to documents in the Chancery court case. He didn’t tell them about some of the concessions he had made to potential buyers in 2017. He didn’t tell them that the only serious bidder had dropped its price because of concerns about Medley Management’s performance. He didn’t tell them that firms like Origami Capital Partners had reached out several times to propose a transaction with Medley Capital.

He didn’t even tell them that they probably weren’t going to get too many offers anyway, because many firms had signed agreements back in 2017 not to make a play for Medley Capital. Those agreements, surprisingly, were still in force.

It worked. By August 2018 the boards had greenlighted the deal without considering any alternatives. Now it was time to announce it to shareholders so they could approve the deal at a meeting in early 2019.

Unfortunately for the Taubes, Medley Capital shareholders — at least the larger ones — were livid.

These shareholders have names just as generic and nebulous as Medley’s: Roummel Asset Management, FrontFour Capital, BLR Partners, and Moab Capital, among others. Soon after the boards’ approval, FrontFour called Medley to find out how a deal like this could have happened.

Their investments were worth a fraction of what they paid, they knew, but somehow they were going to buy the very manager that had made those investment decisions.

Shareholders published open letters, detailing what a bad deal it was and calling for others to vote no.

The shareholders were vocal. But in reality they didn’t have a lot of power: Rules prohibit hedge funds from owning more than 3 percent of a BDC, so no one could get a big enough stake to force Medley out.

FrontFour decided to sue in January 2019, pushing Medley Capital to produce books and records. By early February, Medley had postponed the vote on the deal.

Between January and March multiple asset managers, including Marathon Asset Management, expressed interest in a deal to advise Medley Capital. NexPoint, a subsidiary of Highland Capital, published an open letter arguing that the board had never responded to two proposals it had sent to manage the investments of Medley Capital. NexPoint had even offered a lump sum to Medley Capital for the management contract and proposed to buy back shares to help its sinking stock. (Although Highland Capital has filed for bankruptcy protection, NexPoint has not.)

But the special committee didn’t seriously consider any of the offers. As the court said, the special committee’s “attitude is best captured” in a text from an independent director to Brook Taube: “Are we going to respond to every f**ksake on the planet?”

Delaware Chancery Court decided to hear the case in March, before the rescheduled stockholder vote. The trial included more than 800 exhibits, including damning text and email messages between the Taubes and board members and bankers.

The Medley Capital directors were found to have breached their fiduciary duty through both incompetence and by breaking governance rules. The judge wrote a scathing opinion after the trial, declaring the entire process unfair: “This post-trial decision finds that the Proposed Transactions trigger the entire fairness test. FrontFour proved that half of the Medley Capital special committee was beholden to the Taube brothers, and thus the Taube brothers dominated and controlled the board with respect to the Proposed Transactions.”

It also found that the deal was driven by the financial onus on Medley Management. “Rejecting the deal would foreclose Medley Management’s only viable solution to the enormous financial pressure they labored under,” said the opinion.

The court demanded that Medley Capital go back to the drawing board, and disclose to shareholders that its directors had not acted independently and that third-party managers had made counteroffers to take over investment decisions for Medley Capital.

“As relief, FrontFour seeks a curative shopping process, devoid of Medley Management’s influence, free of any deal protections, plus full disclosures. One obstacle prevents the Court from issuing this relief: FrontFour failed to prove that the acquirer, Sierra, aided and abetted in the other defendants’ breaches of fiduciary duties,” wrote the judge in the opinion. Because of that technicality, the court didn’t permanently stop the transaction.

After the trial, FrontFour settled and got two independent directors on the board. As part of the settlement, the merger proposal would include a process to find a “superior” deal for Medley Capital.

Two directors whose humiliating texts were included in the court opinion resigned.

Two months later, though, Medley put one of the Taube brothers and one of the independent directors blasted by the court up for reelection. Even proxy voting firms Institutional Shareholder Services and Glass Lewis advised shareholders to vote against the incumbents. But because of the 3 percent rule and the huge amount of stock owned by the Taube brothers, including through a joint venture, the two were reelected.

For its part, Medley says it addressed performance by changing its investment strategy in 2015. According to an investor presentation, “the Medley lending platform shifted its focus to first lien loans provided to larger, sponsor backed borrowers.” It also says it has hired a new head of investing and a new head of risk, reconfigured its investment committees, added new senior credit investing professionals, and separated origination activities from underwriting.

In August 2019, Medley refiled regulatory documents on the proposed merger with pages and pages of new disclosures required by the Delaware court, including information about the attempt to sell Medley Management in 2017. This time, Medley Capital’s board ran a so-called go-shop, evaluating proposals from asset managers to replace Medley Management. Sources say there were few asset managers interested in the job at this point.

In October 2019, Medley announced that it hadn’t received any proposal that was “superior” to the deal of merging with its sister Sierra and buying Medley Management at a premium.

Some experts believe activists could prevent situations like Medley’s by holding management’s feet to the fire and pushing for changes.

The SEC, as part of a larger effort to modernize its rules, has proposed to increase the amount that one fund can own of another. But the change wouldn’t completely solve the problem, as institutions wouldn’t get more voting power.

In a comment letter to the commission, TPG Specialty Lending made a case to expand the limits that now constrain BDC activism. “The lack of governance accountability as a consequence of ownership and voting limitations has continued to allow poorly managed BDCs to operate without any real threat to management’s incumbency,” CEO Easterly wrote. The letter includes some startling analysis: BDCs in the bottom quartile when it comes to annual return on equity essentially stay there forever.

The complex saga of the Taube brothers could have been a simple one.

A BDC board has the ultimate power: It can fire the manager for doing a bad job. That’s particularly important with BDCs, as investors can’t withdraw their money.

But no board ever fires the manager, even in the larger mutual fund world, which falls under the same decades-old rules. When was the last time Fidelity Investments, Capital Research & Management, or any other asset manager in the $17 trillion mutual fund world was fired for poor performance?

BDCs are a small part of the fund world, but one player tested whether governance rules truly protect investors. The SEC, which has that very mandate, still needs to approve the Medley deal after shareholders vote.

Investors will want to pay attention to the decision.

[softpine]

Could we get another you don't have to read but it's interesting text post?? 👉👈

omg i hope this is what you meant, but umm here’s some backstory about griffin’s roommates? because even my nameless extras apparently need deep lore in my mind?? fjkjsd

TW: mentions of drug addiction, homelessness, religion, abuse, and biphobia. + me not being able to stop talking ever.

jeremy; 19. gay. [also the guy from this post.] jeremy grew up smack in the middle of the bible belt. his parents wanted him to grow up and be a pastor like all the generations before him. he was a model child and no one expected him to run away, so his parents actually thought he was kidnapped when, on a random tuesday, he left in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. the police found him wandering towards the bus stop just a few hours later and dropped him back at home. everyone then repeated the same cycle again and again for years, before jeremy’s parents got fed up and agreed to legally emancipate him if he agreed to just stop embarrassing their family. he finally hit the road on his own when he was 15.

he met griffin at a train station out west a while later. griffin had just left his aunt’s house, and neither of them had any place to be. jeremy is the one that taught him how to pickpocket (although there was a lot less flirting involved in jeremy’s method – he relies heavily on the “dumb tourist desperately needing directions” angle). but jeremy can never stay in one place too long, so he left. a year later, they happened to bump into each other in another state and decided a coincidence like that was too big to ignore. so they started traveling together and eventually ended up in nyc, where they stayed. (well, kinda. jeremy disappears for weeks at a time and comes back with all kinds of stories.)

griffin sometimes gets pissed because jeremy likes to equate their 2 childhoods, but they were really nothing alike. sure, jeremy’s family was oppressive and he could never be himself around them, but they were wealthy, they loved him, they never laid a hand on him, and they’re still hoping he comes home someday. jeremy didn’t leave because he had to, he left because he wanted to. but he can’t seem to grasp the difference. still, he listened when griffin told him he should reach out to his family and let them know he’s okay. now they have scheduled phone calls once a month and they’re all happy with that amount of communication. 

all in all, jeremy is still a kid. he loves comic books, action figures, the atari he & griffin split 50/50, and going to the movies. he’s always looking for the next big adventure or something to make him feel more alive. unfortunately, that’s taken him to some darker places with drugs and alcohol, but he’s doing okay right now. he was worried about moving into an apartment because he thought it would make him feel too trapped, but he actually likes having a place that he chose, that no one is forcing him to be at. oh and no, he and griffin have never dated. jeremy just doesn’t know what personal space means. 

eddie; 34. straight [but probably aro/ace in modern terms]. he’s already been divorced three times, which he assumed is because he's a pushover, never fights for anything or takes his own stance, and seemingly lacks passion in every aspect of his life. for almost ten years, he worked as a personal accountant in the upper east side. his days were mundane: he ate the same breakfast (oatmeal), the same lunch (ham & cheese sandwich), and the same dinner (chicken noodle soup) every day. somewhere around the time of his third divorce, he realized he wasn’t going to find fulfillment unless he searched for it, so he quit his job, cashed out his family inheritance, and traveled through europe. as he was living in hostels and hitchhiking and relying on the kindness of strangers, he started to become well-acquainted with the homeless communities in every place he visited. he realized how out of touch he had become, and how privileged he was to be bored with his life. and thus, he had found his passion.

when he returned to new york, he got a new job in finance for a nonprofit organization for the homeless. that was nice and all, but he never got to see the benefits of his work, so he started volunteering at food banks and shelters. that’s where he met jeremy and griffin. jeremy was fascinated by how truly dull eddie is. he kept waiting for eddie to reveal some deep, wild, secret part of him, but it never happened. eddie never even bragged about his adventures in europe; he would always turn the conversation back around to others. by the time jeremy realized he really is that boring, he was already looking up to eddie as an older brother type (and griffin was just along for the ride).

eddie is the one that’s actually renting the apartment and then renting out the extra space to griffin, jeremy, and vincent at dirt cheap rates while they get on their feet. he agreed to keep doing this as long as they all have jobs (pickpocketing doesn’t count) and try to stay clean in jeremy’s case.

vincent; 21. bi. vincent grew up comfortable, but not wealthy, in queens, with his family who emigrated from singapore before he was born. his parents later got divorced, and now he’s the oldest of a combined total of seven siblings, though he’s always been closer to his mom and stepdad. growing up, his grades were just average, he had a few friends but was too shy to be popular, and he wasn’t particularly athletic either – he was on the swim team for a while, but he hated the competitive aspect. his favorite part was staying behind after practice and having the pool all to himself; he would float on his back for hours, just watching the pool lights reflecting on the ceiling. he struggled to fit in at school. this all changed when he started weightlifting during his senior year. he mainly started doing it as a way to keep himself busy, but he soon realized that the more fit he got, the more attention people paid him. he liked that.

soon after, he started his first relationship with a girl, kelly, who he intended to marry someday. they graduated high school together and both enrolled at the same college – though vincent hadn’t decided a major yet – and things were going great. he even came out to her as bi and she took it really well (especially for the time). they were settled into an apartment of their own at 19.

in his quest to figure out his major, vincent took up all kinds of new hobbies, his favorite being drumming. he even started a garage band with some of his friends. they started playing house shows, which ended up being somewhat popular, though they don’t expect to make it big anytime soon. at one of these shows, vincent ran into griffin and they bonded over their love of rock music. when vincent found out that griffin didn’t have a place to stay that night, he invited him to sleep on his couch – understandably, kelly was angry that he didn’t ask first.

kelly got increasingly more upset as time went on and vincent & griffin became better friends. even though nothing romantic ever happened between them (and i sure hope not, because griffin was like 16 at the start), kelly was convinced that vincent was cheating on her and that she was only there to cover for his “true” sexuality. when they inevitably broke up, vincent was devastated. not only that, but he now had to find a new place to live asap. that’s when griffin mentioned that he and jeremy were renting rooms from eddie and that vincent was welcome to join. and that takes us up to the present! (well, the “present” being 1987).

[prorevenge]

"No changes can be made without the account holder"

This family member's spouse passed was involved in an accident that left them critically injured. They were in ICU for months and would face permanent disability upon returning home. They didn't want to leave their home, it was close to the best hospital in the region and it was their "forever home", so plans began to renovate it for accessibility. In addition to the renovations, a wheelchair van was going to be needed along with other medical equipment for home use.

As she worked on all of this, it was clear that large expenditures were going to be needed and it was going to take time to draw money out of long-term savings and retirement accounts. So she called the credit card companies to get their limit increased. Sadly, before the renovations were complete, her spouse passed away after almost 6 months of hospitalization and therapy. Now attention turned to final arrangements. The couple had always been very frugal and maintained nearly perfect credit. All cards were being paid on time, and despite carrying a balance on some cards from the construction (demolition had already started so renovations had to continue - but at a slower pace) money was now coming in from those long term savings.

The problem is one major credit card company refused to work with her. She tried to access the account and was told "Sorry, I have to speak the account holder." She explained that her spouse had passed away and she was wanting to pay what was left on the card, she also explained that she was an account holder. Evil Bank stated that she was not on the account, she was a mere card holder and she had no rights to the account. The person on the phone explained that her husband opened the account without her and just gave her the card, she "just didn't understand how credit cards worked."

This was a lie, the couple had always been joint account holders on everything since they were first married for exactly this reason. They had done extensive estate planning and made sure that all their assets were protected in trusts should the worst occur; they knew their kids would be cared for and their partner would be able to access everything. Also, she ran the couple's business for over a decade, navigating a sea of regulations, insurance company billing, and payroll/finances/taxes. Needless to say, she did not enjoy being condescended to.

Unfortunately, Evil Bank would not budge. They would not allow any access to the account for any reason, but for some reason they didn't cancel the card after finding out the sole account holder had passed away. This back-and-forth went on for weeks with multiple calls to the Evil Bank and trying to escalate the issue to supervisors to address the state of the account.

In a final attempt to show Evil Bank that they were hurting themselves by this:

"So I'm unable to access any part of the account, even to make a payment?"

Evil Bank: "That's right."

"So the account is going to be closed?"

Evil Bank: "No, only the Account Holder can do that."

"Even though the account holder is dead?"

Evil Bank: "Only the account holder, ma'am."

"So what does that mean for card holders and being able to charge on the account."

Evil Bank: "Only the account holder can deactivate a card or modify the account."

"So what happens if a card holder uses their card."

Evil Bank: "They can continue to use the card until the Account Holder tells us otherwise."

"The deceased account holder."

Evil Bank: "Yes. I can't help you with anything else, you need to put the account holder on the phone if you want to change anything or make a payment.

"No, that's fine."

She broke down crying immediately after, but decided that they set the rules, so she would play by them.

All the final expenses, medical bills, and as much construction cost as possible was put onto that credit card. She maxed it out and then let it sit until the credit card company started calling for payment.

"I'm sorry, per your policy, I'm just the card holder and I'm not responsible for any balance."

"Ma'am, this balance needs to be paid or it will affect your credit."

"It better not, I'm not on the account. This is an illegal collections call and I will be reporting it to the FTC and the Attorneys General in your home state and mine. I still have his number on speed dial. You can make your case to the court." (She was used to getting medical insurance companies to pay claims for the last decade or so; you didn't want to play hardball with her.)

Remember how all the assets were in trusts? On paper, her partner had no assets to place a lien on; all the cash in the joint checking account had been used to pay expenses for the last several months and withdrawals from long term savings were sent to her account, not the joint account. They had agreed to move all exposed assets shortly after her partner regained consciousness, fearing the worst. Plus, all the income from the business had been brought home in her name for more than a decade so she would actually get some kind of Social Security payment when she got older. So not only did his estate have no assets to go after, he didn't have an "income" for the last decade!

Evil Bank was left with a maxed out credit card and no assets in the estate they could file against for payment. The handful of other credit cards companies worked with her to raise limits temporarily or remove daily spending caps for large expenditures - and they were all paid without a single missed, late, or partial payment. Evil Bank had to eat a 5-figure loss - all because they decided that The Wife didn't deserve to be on the account from day 1.

She had every intention to pay every bill and expense, she has never been one to try to scam or cheat someone. She gave Evil Bank every chance to accept money for the bill - they repeatedly refused to acknowledge her as a spouse or executor -- but she sure liked the irony of the only company that refused to acknowledge the death of her spouse ended up paying for the funeral expenses.

(source) story by (/u/Disgruntled_Tofu)

[noassallclass]

So my roommate spent all of today writing up a report for Critical Role as a company and I really don't know much about business stuff but I think it is fascinating. Read to the end for a wild ride.

"Okay here is my idea of how Critical Role is actually structured based on what public information exists:

At Geek and Sundry, “Critical Role” as an entity was essentially a partnership between all cast members. The only asset this partnership had was the intellectual property of CR and the only Revenue it took in was licensing that IP to Geek and Sundry. This is because Critical Role Partnership was adamant about maintaining ownership of the IP. This license then pays out between the partners. Percentage

ownership of Critical Role Partnership is divided based on money put in, and previous work done. I would be very surprised if Mercer did not own at least 25% but probably not more than 50%, and the others are probably more or less even. At this point, the cast members both draw a salary from geek and sundry as employees (or contractors), and collect drawings from the licensing of the IP and also royalties as actors. When Orion leaves, the others almost certainly force him to sell out his ownership portion and he probably gets royalties from Geek and Sundry (and later CRPLLC). At this point, this licensing agreement is the only transaction that the entity “Critical Role” actually conducts.

Geek and Sundry pays to produce, distribute, and market the show, and takes all profit. It also takes some aspects of creative control, but probably not that much, though this is listed as the reason to leave Geek and Sundry. At this point, Critical Role continues to license with Geek and Sundry’s parent company Legendary Digital Networks and incorporates their partnership into a Limited Liability Corporation “Critical Role Productions”.

The ownership split is probably kept mostly the same, unless someone decides to sell portions of their shares, but I don’t see why they would. The shareholders (or owners) at this point hire a bunch of employees. Some roles they hire themselves, like Willingham as CEO and Mercer as CCO, and some they hire outsiders like COO Ed Lopez, SVP of Marketing Rachel Romero, and VP of Business Development Ben Van Der Fluit. Those who take additional roles will take salaries for those roles, as well as a salary for acting and writing, and dividends from profits. It is likely that Lopez got a certain amount of shares because C-Suite Executives often do as bonuses because it’s non-taxed income until he sells it and it incentivizes maximizing profits because that would increase his dividends. The other employees probably did not receive shares, so as not to dilute the percentage ownership further.

Critical Role seemingly has no board of directors (it’s possible they have one which is not public), which only happens when there are so few shareholders that they can all convene and take votes (Usually less than 20 owners), implying they don’t use investors to raise cash, which is consistent with a desire to retain creative control. This also means that it is up to all of the shareholders to vote on decisions about the managers of the company instead of a board. That means the only way they could fire Willingham as Chief Executive Officer is if all of the shareholders convene and vote for his firing. Without a board of directors, which often has independent outsiders, this is typically seen as bad for the company’s interests, but is legal in this case because it’s a limited liability corporation and they do not trade on an exchange .

Over the next year or so, CRPLLC makes a new studio and Geek and Sundry gradually relinquishes the distribution rights to older episodes. At this point everyone who works towards the function of the production and distribution of shows is an employee of CRPLLC and not Legendary or Geek and Sundry. For the past couple of years, Critical Role has licensed various brand crossover products like Funko Pops and The Darkhorse Comics. Funko Pop pays CRPLLC for the character likenesses and keeps all profits. CRPLLC also produces its own merchandise like t shirts and that sexy calendar that they pay manufacturers to produce and CRPLLC makes the profit in that scenario. They also have advertising revenue, which is a straightforward revenue stream.

Throwing back to two paragraphs ago, if they don’t use investors to raise cash, how can they afford to embark on a new expensive project that wouldn’t pay out until the future? Well, they could take out a loan (ew interest), save more money in retained earnings forgoing development in other areas (what do you mean we can’t afford to redo our website?) OR

They could do an 11 million dollar kickstarter! This would allow them to retain ownership of both the company and the product, because kickstarter is essentially just buying really expensive merchandise! People will buy a 30 dollar mug if it also comes with the promise that if enough people do it, they’ll make a tv show. Kickstarter money is revenue, not financing and it’s actually against kickstarter’s rules to promise equity for backers. Instead, kickstarter backers assume the risk that investors take (albeit on a smaller individual scale) with none of the benefit besides knowing that they helped make something exist. Compare this to if I, Callie invested $11 million into CRPLLC.

If the Legend of Vox Machina completely bombs and bankrupts CRPLLC which was kickstarted: CRPLLC would have to sell off all of its assets, resolve its liabilities (pay people for work done before laying them off, pay off bank loans) and whatever is left over would be split between the owners. Do they owe you, the kickstarter backer, for not making the show? Legally no. You chose to give us that money and had to trust we would spend the money well to make a good show and we spent all our money making sure our tree leaf animation looked good and could only afford to make 2 episodes.

If the Legend of Vox Machina completely bombs and bankrupts CRPLLC and it was Calliestarted: It would still be the same, except now Callie, the person who put in a lot of money for this show, is also an owner, and at least gets a slice of that money after the debts are paid off.

If the Legend of Vox Machina is really successful and it’s kickstarted: Good job, you did it! You got a fun tv show and like a t shirt! Fun!

If the Legend of Vox Machina is really successful and it’s Calliestarted: Not only do I get my fun tv show and probably also every piece of merch that exists, I got mad paid as an owner, not just from the show itself, but as we sell more and more merchandise because I’m a part owner of the company. I then continue to make money from literally everything else the company does until I decide to sell my shares or the company goes bankrupt.

And even better news! Amazon Prime bought the streaming rights for two seasons, so now I, Callie, have even more money from that sweet sweet licensing money.

Speaking of which, it is likely that the Amazon Deal is structured as follows: Amazon pays CRPLLC to license LoVM, with the stipulation that kickstarter backers can access the first 10 episodes legally. CRPLLC pays, with Kickstarter and Amazon money, Titmouse Inc. to produce LoVM. CRPLLC makes the difference between what they paid Titmouse (variable cost, depending on ultimate cost of animating) and what Amazon paid them. Amazon makes the difference of what they paid CRPLLC and what they make at market with LoVM. Amazon is the only company that stands to profit directly from the actual product of LoVM doing well. If it does poorly, there’s the possibility it gets cancelled, meaning that CRPLLC (and maybe Titmouse if CRPLLC already commissioned the work from them) will still get paid by Amazon, but never released. It’s possible that other companies could buy the license from Amazon in this scenario. This is the risk of selling your show to another company.

CRPLLC also has one subsidiary and one associated foundation: Darrington Press LLC and The Critical Role Foundation

Darrington Press LLC is an imprint of CRPLLC created to design and produce card and board games with the Critical Role IP. DP has 3 listed employees, Ivan Van Norman as Head of Darrington Press, Darcy L. Ross as Marketing Manager, and Mercer as Creative Advisor. As a subsidiary, it is wholly owned by CRPLLC. DP pays manufacturers and contractors to design and manufacturers games and pays for its own advertising, as a separate entity from CRPLLC. DP will likely sell its products to games distributers and the Critical Role Store. If the Critical Role Store sells DP games it’s because CRPLLC bought them from DP. The relationship between DP and CPRLLC is that when DP makes a profit and pays dividends, the recipient is CPRLLC. If DP goes bankrupt and cannot pay its debts, CPRLLC is not required to pay them. CPRLLC also chooses DP’s Board of Directors, which is probably just the owners of CPRLLC. This is all very ordinary. DP has four announced games set to release in 2021, but as of yet has not released any products or made any revenue.

The Critical Role Foundation is a registered non-profit and legally distinct from CRPLLC with seemingly no employees, with Johnson as President, and 4 other Board Members: Mercer, Lopez, Romero and another person named Mark Koro, who is a figure very closely tied to critical role I will outline later. Lopez and Romero are also in a long-term relationship or perhaps marriage. It is usually considered a bad idea to have two partners on a board of directors, as a conflict of interest can arise easily. As a registered non-profit CRF’s projected breakdown of donations is 85% grants to other non-profits, 10% emergency fund allocation, and 5% admin costs (this would be where possible future employees’ salaries would come from). Board Members on non-profits traditionally don’t take salaries, but can use their role as a board member to calculate donated time as a charitable donation for tax purposes. This all seems pretty normal. It’s not stated if or how much CRPLLC itself donates to CRF, including its initial endowment, besides the donation of free advertising, as no donation matching or any other programs seem to be advertised. In terms of an initial endowment, it seems that the only money put in was immediately spent on filing fees and legal fees, meaning the initial endowment was less than $5000. As a result, CRF operates from donors and possibly is not funded at all by CRPLLC. Any money that is donated from CRPLLC’s profits to CRF would be a charitable donation and lower CRPLLC’s taxable income amount. CRF began collecting non-taxable donations in May 2019, and as of December 8, 2020 CRF has yet to publish their 2019 financial statements, so not much is publicly known of how much money is raised by CRF and if they achieved their desired breakdown.

Now to talk about Mark Koro. Koro is an executive of Governmental Affairs (some places list director and others list VP) at Qualcomm, a telecommunications technology company with an annual profit of $7.67 Billion, and is estimated to make $20 per smartphone sold. Every smartphone. Qualcomm has been sued by China, South Korea, Taiwan, the EU, and the USA for anti-competitive behaviour. Koro’s department of Governmental affairs is responsible for negotiating and bidding with governments for contracts and rights to airwave frequencies, and also lobby and develop proposals for telecommunications legislation and policy. Before this, Koro worked at the National Security Agency in their corporate relations department liaising with defence and intelligence contractors. Before this, he worked in the George H.W. Bush administration as The National Security Advance Representative. This entails preparing logistics and security for Presidential events and dispatching Secret Service Agents to respond to Presidential Threats and continued in this capacity under following administrations until 2008. Koro was also an advisor to The Deputy Director of the NSA (the second highest position in the Intelligence Agency), and was a consultant to The Lawrence Livermore National Library, which is

“self-described as a ‘premier research and development institution for science and technology applied to national security.’ Its principal responsibility is ensuring the safety, security and reliability of the nation’s nuclear weapons through the application of advanced science, engineering, and technology.”

These positions are all listed on Koro’s biography on the The United Nations website for the International Telecommunications Union Radiocommunication Sector (accessed Dec. 8, 2020). Mark Koro has no public associations with Charitable Work.

There is little online about Koro’s association with Critical Role, besides an article stating that Koro, as a fan of the show, in 2016 matched $50,000 worth of donations to 826LA. Koro’s associations with a monopolistic technology company, the NSA, Nuclear Weaponry, and multiple presidential administrations would be cause for alarm for many of CR’s fans, but if it were a purely professional relationship, it could be excused as including him for his business accumen, but Mark Koro is mutuals on twitter with all of the cast members and Brian W Foster, Britney Walloch-Key. This might seem like normal professional courtesy, but there is a lot of interaction between Koro’s account and Critical Role Employees’ personal accounts that reflect at least a close personal relationship between people that he would not interact with regularly just as a board member of a legally distinct organization."

P.S. 100% of Critical Role's Chief Officers are men in relationships with female subordinates.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, serenelystrange!

For @serenelystrange. Hope this was the right balance for your prompt and that it had just the right amount of Christmas Fluff, Merry Christmas :)

Read On AO3

*****

Make you Mine this season

The flight to Melbourne was a long one and not for the first time Stiles was cursing the fact that Lydia had refused to use at least some of the cash from their Patreon to upgrade from cattle class to at least business class so he could try and sleep out the jet lag. He had heard of more than enough podcasters that would use their Patreon money for more non-essentials than that but since her email address was on the account it seemed to make her the boss where the finances were concerned.

Of course being on a non-stop Seventeen hour flight with a minor stop over in Sydney was something that he appreciated but he wasn’t sure that his back would thank him for the small seat he was in which was crushed up against the window as he had stupidly taken the window seat instead of the middle.

He cast a glance at Lydia whose nose was deep into a book on Australian serial killers which was part of her research for one of their three Australian based episodes while they were staying in the country. Usually he would be right there with her, trying to decide on which was the most gruesome and which had the most information to warrant an hour long episode but since their wake up call had been ridiculously early leaving him packing his books in his suitcase instead of his carry on he was instead trying to find a documentary of interest on the inflight entertainment system which was to do with true crime instead of the life and times of a retired sports star that he didn’t really care about.

Though against his will he did seem to find himself letting the documentary play, his gaze out the window instead of on the screen as the documentary played though his earphones, letting his thoughts wander to the person that he always seemed to find himself thinking of when stuck on a plane for hours on end with nothing else to do.

While his and Lydia’s podcast focused on all the ins and outs of true crime, from the historic to cults to everything in between, his best friend Derek’s was focused not just on the history of sports but the most up to date sports news. It was something that Stiles didn’t really get having not exactly been into sports since he had spent most of his time on the lacrosse team at high school on the bench no matter how hard he had tried. Though his oldest friend Scott had tried numerous times unsuccessfully to actually get him on the team there was no denying that it was a lost cause leaving him with a kind of hatred for sports which had seen his interests instead settle on the academic which had swiftly moved to True crime after going down a Youtube hole of True Crime documentaries on Ted Bundy late one night in his last year at school. It had been the beginning of an obsession that had concerned his father as though he was sure that would consume Stiles to practise what he learned which there was no likelihood of happening, despite him being the town sheriff who’d let Stiles read the files he brought home since he was in middle school.

Of course, that hatred of sports had faded when he first met Derek.

It had been his and Lydia’s first podcast festival in LA, and Stiles who had had an overwhelming case of stage fright before he even got on stage, had been sitting on the side as Lydia talked with their management about a Plan B in case Stiles did something embarrassing out of nerves. That was when Derek came and sat beside him.

Even at that moment Stiles had known Derek was handsome in a way that he had long since considered his type. Tall and muscular with a slender waist and his biceps making it obvious that at some point or another he had been a jock, yet it had been his face which had Stiles’ heart pounding his chest. The perfectly chiselled cheek bones, the alluring green eyes and stubble that seemed to enhance his lips and make Stiles unable to look away.

Derek seemed to feel Stiles staring at him from where he was looking over his notes for his panel and looked up with a frown.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No….no sorry. I am just a little nervous. I’ve never done a panel before and I’m scared I’m going to do something wrong.” Stiles said offering him a weak smile that immediately had Derek’s frown melting into an understanding smile.

“I promise the first one is always the hardest but once it’s done, you’ll wonder what you were so worried about. Just think of it this way, everyone out there has paid to see you because they obviously like what your podcast is about and no matter what happens they won’t hold it against you. You just need to relax.” Derek assured him.

“You aren’t going to tell me to picture them naked are you?" Stiles asked, watching Derek laugh that seemed to make his face even more irresistible to Stiles’ fledgling crush in the making.

“God no. My first manager tried to tell me that with my first one and it only made it worse. No just pretend that a friend is stood at the very back and you are talking to only them. It helps you to focus on what you are saying instead of trying to be someone that you’re not for the sake of the panel.” Derek said, rolling up his notes between his hands.

“Ok, but I don’t really have any friends here and the only person I know is the one I’ll be at the panel with. It makes it kind of hard to focus on that.” Stiles said watching Derek tilt his head in understanding.

“Ok well how about this, I could stand at the back if you think it would help.” Derek suggested.

“Only if you tell me your name.” Stiles said, watching the other roll his eyes like Stiles had just used a bad chat up line on him.

“it’s Derek, Derek Hale. Yours?” Derek asked.

“Stiles, Stiles Stilinski. And before you say anything yes, I know how bad it is.” Stiles said, earning a grin from Derek.

“Good to meet you, Stiles….” Derek smiled, though he was interrupted by a tall blond woman who stood between the two so Derek would fixate only on her.

“Derek, honey you’re on next. They’ve managed to sort out the issue with the projector and the PA so I’ve given them the USB with the PowerPoint.” She smiled, her fingertips caressing Derek’s neck though from what Stiles could see Derek hadn’t exactly been happy at her interrupting them but before he could say a word a member of staff had appeared and was herding Derek on stage leaving Stiles staring after him even after he was gone and Lydia had come back.

“So, I’ve spoken to Aiden and he’s agreed to cut the panel short if you go off topic….” Lydia said, though she paused when she realised wasn’t paying her attention. “Hey, Stiles!”

“Yeah yeah sorry. I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Stiles said, letting his attention move to the copy of the script Lydia had already prepared for them.

Once he got on the stage and spotted Derek standing at the back against the wall of the hall, his nerves had disappeared, and it had been as easy as breathing. Almost as though he and Lydia were back in their apartment just recording a regular episode.

Once the panel was over, he had looked for Derek in the crowd of other podcasters hanging around but not been able to catch sight of him.

It wasn’t until the afterparty that he spotted him, drunk off his face and making out with the blonde woman from before up against the wall outside of the toilets. It had made something in his stomach squirm with jealousy and left him returning to the bar himself hoping that if he drunk enough, he could erase the vision from his memory.

He had tried to tell himself that there was little if any chance of him and Derek being together anyway, that they were probably better off as acquaintances that saw each other once in a blue moon at cons and festivals. But that seemed to fade when the week after the festival their podcast Talk Murder to me social media accounts received requests from Derek’s podcast accounts called The final countdown with Derek.

It then seemed to grow with Derek himself following Stiles’ own accounts, leaving comments on pictures and retweeting tweets they released when a new episode was out. A fledgling kind of friendship grew there, and though Stiles tried not to obsessive over it when he saw more and more pictures of the blonde woman called Kate on Derek’s Instagram page, with the two of them doing all the couple pictures it had that feeling from before returning twice as much every time.

Stiles even made himself listen to Derek’s podcast just to hear the sound of the other’s voice, to hear him using laymen's terms instead of all the complicated technical terms that others not interested in the sport would not understand. To hear him laughing with the odd guest he brought on which all seemed to be related to Derek’s own sports past from baseball to basketball to football it was like Derek had done everything and made Stiles even more sure that the other would never feel the same way.

It wasn’t until the DCon a few months later that they met up again and it had been like they had never parted as they had drinks at the bar the first night. As Stiles asked Derek about the episodes he’d listened to of Derek’s podcast and Derek asked Stiles what had got him into True crime and why all the murderers they chose seemed to be well-known instead of the lesser known.

And with that their friendship just continued to grow, through Derek’s break up with Kate who had cheated on him with one of his guests and saw all pictures of her deleted from his Instagram in the space of a week after Stiles skyped him to check he was ok, to Stiles moving from California to Chicago on a scholarship leaving him meeting Derek in New York every weekend to show him all the best places as he got settled in.

It all just seemed so normal, but Stiles would be lying if he said his crush had not continue to grow on the other which always seemed worse after Skyping Derek when he had come back from the gym and was always shirtless revealing a body that Stiles daydreamed about constantly. Something he confided in Lydia about one night when Derek had dropped him off after a bar crawl through the western village. To her credit though Lydia wasn’t surprised in the slightest but had told him to be careful about getting in too deep when it was painfully clear how straight Derek was and that it would only ever end in heartbreak.

Stiles tried to keep that in mind, really, he did, especially when Derek started dating a cheerleader called Jennifer from the New York Jets. How yet again the jealousy would set in and leave him ghosting Derek online for a few days as he tried to work through the reality that him and Derek could never be anything more. Thankfully it was around the time his scholarship finished and he managed to leave town at the same time Derek took Jenifer to the Hamptons for a long weekend so he didn’t have to answer any awkward questions.

He moved in with Lydia and their new manager/her new boyfriend Jordan in LA, which was awkward too but he didn’t really want to move back to Beacon hills if he could get away with it. And since they lived together it made the production of their episodes all the smoother as they were able to plan things weeks in advance.

Of course, that all came to a head when they attended the Vancouver podcast festival before starting the long tour through Europe for live panels. Stiles had kept his distance from Derek this time, staying with the true crime crowd when at the venue as he finally met people he had only been speaking to online from other podcasts. It had been surprisingly easy to just forget that Derek was even there as the convention was the biggest one in Canada and everyone there just stuck with their own genre.

But then the after party came and Stiles had been drinking at the bar alone to give Jordan and Lydia the time alone that they needed. That was the downside to being the third wheel in both the business and the apartment. He tried not to let it get to him, as there was little if any chance of him seeing himself with anyone that wasn’t Derek. That night he was at least going to try with Theo the producer from a podcast on criminology, the other buying him just enough drinks to have him buzzed and kissing him up against the edge of the bar hard enough that Stiles could at least pretend for a moment that it was Derek.

As the other’s mouth detoured to kissing Stiles’ neck hard enough to leave very visible bruises and the alcohol making Stiles’ inhibitions so low that if Theo had asked he would have easily gone to a room or hell even a cubicle in the mens bathroom. But that illusion had been interrupted by the sound of Derek saying his name from the other end of the bar just as Theo’s fingers were unzipping his fly.

“Um, Derek?" Stiles murmured, his back still arching against the bar edge and the thrum of arousal flowing through his veins when Theo’s fingers curled around his cock through his boxers.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Derek asked, appearing beside them looking furious as though he was sure Theo was taking advantage of him.

“Getting a hand job what does it look like?" Stiles sighed, Theo mouthing at his neck in an attempt to keep him fixated on what they were doing causing Stiles to curse and push one hand into Theo’s back pocket to pull him closer into his personal space.

��Come on Stiles, you’re drunk let’s get you up to your room so you can sleep it off.” Derek said, Stiles groaning as he felt the impending orgasm just on the brink of Theo jerking him off a few more times.

“Or…. you could come to my room Stiles. Just you, me, a bed, your clothes on the floor and a good thorough fucking. What do you say?” Theo crooned softly into Stiles’ ear, his pace around Stiles’ cock picking up.

“Oh god yeah…” Stiles groaned, curling his free hand in Theo’s hair, and pulling his lips from his neck to meet his own just as the orgasm crashed over him.

“Stiles, this is a bad idea.” Derek tried as Stiles’ mouth opened willingly to Theo’s tongue while the other tried to hold him up against the edge of the bar while zipping his fly.

“I think that’s up to Stiles, don’t you? Still keen Stiles?" Theo snarked at Derek, before turning his attention back to Stiles who was downing the last of his tequila shot to leave.

“Um, yeah but you’ll have to make sure I don’t fall on the way to the lift….” Stiles sighed, Theo’s arm curling around his waist and easing him from against the side of the bar before leading the way out the bar towards his room.

After that night Derek didn’t speak to him, which was just as well for Stiles as the less time they spoke the more he could focus on easing back on his crush. It helped a little that Theo was pulled along on their tour through Europe but it soon became clear to Theo that Stiles was hung up on someone else and just using him for the relief he couldn’t get otherwise. Once the European tour was over Theo returned to the states while they continued to the Japanese podcast festival in Tokyo, leaving Stiles the third wheel yet again and wishing more than anything that Derek would contact him.

It took a couple of months in the run up to the Webby Awards for them to start talking again, Derek having long since broken things off with Jennifer though when Stiles asked why Derek got an indiscernible look on his face and said something about how she was always touring with the players meaning little time for them to be together although to Stiles it didn’t seem complete true but he didn’t push as they still hadn’t completely rebuilt their bridges. That year they had both gotten nominated for Webbys and since the awards were in New York Derek seemed determined that they spent as much time together as possible. Something which Stiles knew was going to cause his crush to flare up again but there was nothing he could really do to stop it.

Everytime he and Derek went out with Lydia and Jordan his co-presenter would flash him that look that told him to be careful but that she felt sorry for him being in this position with Derek again. But Stiles tried not to think of that, to not focus on the fact his heart was probably going to break again when Derek started seeing someone else and instead on actually getting to spend time together with a friend he hasn’t seen in months.

Being at the award show together was something Stiles knew he would never forget as he watched Derek get the Webby award for best sports podcast while he and Lydia jointly received the Webby People’s voice award in comedic podcasts. It was a big night and yet when it came to the after-party Stiles found himself yet again sat alone at the bar watching all the other winners and participants mingling among themselves and celebrating. Lydia and Jordan had left early with the trophy to make up for lost time in their hotel room leaving Stiles wondering where Derek was as he reached for the tequila.

Derek finally appeared from a crowd of fashion vloggers that had taken a fancy to him at the ceremony not that Stiles could blame them, but instead he made his way to the bar and took a seat beside Stiles. It didn’t escape Stiles’ notice that they were back in the same situation they had been when they stopped talking before but at least this time there was no-one else making a move on the other though Stiles was sure at least one of the fashion vloggers would try again after a few more drinks.

“Big night huh?" Stiles smiled, toasting Derek with his glass at the other ordered beer from the bartender.

“Yeah, I guess it has been, though I never thought I would find myself getting a Webby for a podcast. It seems a bit surreal.” Derek said, setting his trophy on the bar and looking at it as though he was sure it would disappear if he didn’t.

“Same here, I mean for me and Lydia it was just a hobby to put out there to begin with and now we have thousands of fans willing to pay through Patreon to support us financially. Although to be fair now I can’t exactly imagine myself doing anything else.” Stiles said downing his shot and ordering another.

“Yeah, I mean it gives me a sense of achievement that I never managed to completely reach when I was a sports star, you’re always trying to reach for the next trophy or the next record you know? At least with this I know I’m doing something that people enjoy that was initially just for me. Though sometimes I do wonder…” Derek said, wistfully looking at Stiles he got his next shot.

“About what?” Stiles asked, squeezing the lime juice into the shot.

“There’s been a few podcasts that have gone on to create their own network to help other people with putting their podcasts out there. I think I’d like to do something like that…I just wouldn’t know where to start.” Derek said thoughtfully downing a mouthful of his beer.

“I suppose that would be amazing to do, but honestly me and Lydia struggle enough to so much as keep our own going now. Even with the odd producer on tap and Jordan as management I’m not sure we would be able to keep something like that a float. Still if that is something you think you would like to do you can always send feelers out to other podcasts in your genre and see if they would be interested in combining your resources to make something like that happen.” Stiles shrugged, toying with the empty lime.

“Yeah I’ll have to give it some more thought.” Derek agreed downing the rest of his beer and making like he was about to get up when Stiles rested a hand on his arm.

“Where are you going? The night’s still young and besides, we’re celebrating!” Stiles grinned causing Derek to sigh but sit back down and order them each some more shots as Stiles downed his second in one.

They spent most of the night into the early hours downing shots and coming up with ludicrous ideas for podcast network names as well coming up with new episode ideas for the other’s podcast. They were still there as the staff started coming around to clear up and herd the remaining occupants to the door which seemed to contain quite a few fashions vloggers stumbling in their high heels like they had been waiting for Derek to leave the bar before giving Derek a come on. But Derek seemed more fixated on Stiles coming to crash at his as it was closer to the venue and would mean he didn’t have to worry about getting an uber or waking Lydia.

In the back of Stiles’ mind alarm bells started ringing, but he still agreed letting Derek’s arm curl around his waist as they walked down the sidewalk to make sure he didn’t stumble and fall into the gutter. But that little touch had a spark reigniting the previously dormant crush deep in Stiles’ mind. He tried to silence it by listening to Derek rambling on about an idea for a podcast that was solely on different mythologies around the world and why they were so different.

Derek seemed to have planned at least the first ten episodes by the time they go to his apartment building, though he nearly dropped his webby when trying to find his keys leaving him to hand it to Stiles for safe keeping while he found it in his wallet. Stiles followed his lead into the building, using the webby in his hand to try and ground him before he did something he regretted though when they got in the lift it seemed like whatever restraint he had left disappeared when the doors closed behind them.

Derek was still rambling about an episode involving Polynesian mythology compared with the Caribbean when Stiles pushed himself away uneasily from the wall and approached where Derek was leaning in a corner to keep his balance, letting his fingertips graze Derek’s cleanshaven cheek when he crowded into his personal space.

“Stiles….” Derek sighed at the touch; his eyes flickering closed as though it had been so long since someone had so much as touched him that it broke Stiles’ heart.

Before he could stop himself, he was leaning in and kissing Derek deeply.

He froze once the kiss was finished expecting Derek to shove him off and ask him what the hell but instead Derek’s fingers curled in his hair while his other arm curled around Stiles’ neck to bring him closer when he kissed him back. It was a deeper kiss, tainted by the taste of tequila and lime but to Stiles it was perfect because it was Derek’s tongue in his mouth, Derek’s hand sliding down his back to palm at his ass and Derek’s hot body pressed up against his torso.

“Um god Der….” He murmured as the other deepened the kiss even more sliding his hand up the back of Stiles’ dress shirt to brush against his bare back, the touch feeling like an electric current flowing through his very veins.

At some point Derek took control, backing Stiles’ body up against the opposite wall so his back pushed against the emergency stop button. Derek’s lips detouring from Stiles’ lips to his neck once his collar buttons were ripped open despite the murmur of objection from Stiles’ lips at being deprived of Derek’s tongue in his mouth. He soon found all his shirt buttons open and Derek’s mouth moving to colour his bare chest with bruises that Stiles never wanted to disappear.

But soon Stiles’ legs were curled around Derek’s waist, his lower back pushing the emergency button again to restart the lift though neither of the couple were too interested until the doors opened on the right floor.

“Fuck Stiles…. I want you so bad….” Derek murmured into his neck as he curled his arms around Stiles’ body to keep him balanced as he carried Stiles out the lift into the corridor.

Through some miracle and after making out against the wall beside Derek’s front door for quite a while they had managed to get inside the apartment.

The rest had been a blur.

Swallowing heavily on the plane to Melbourne Stiles rubbed away the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes as he stared at the darkening sky while Michael Jordan rambled away about the highlights of his career in one ear as the inside of the plane powered down for the night. Lydia had put her book on the seat between them and was curled up with the thin inflight blanket over her and her sleeping mask on since she had flown with him enough times to know Stiles’ insomnia would probably keep him awake long enough that he would start reading.

The morning after that glorious night continued to haunt him horribly even months later. Of waking up in Derek’s bed to no sign of the object of his affections beside him let alone in any other part of the apartment. Of finding a note held up against the Webby trophy on his nightstand that made it clear that as far as he was concerned nothing had happened and they should just forget it. Of that sinking feeling in his chest as his heart slipped into his stomach and he had gathered all his clothes before leaving the apartment to return to his and Lydia’s hotel room.

How Jordan had made a crack at breakfast of him getting lucky only for Lydia to nudge her boyfriend and shake her head as though she knew exactly what had happened and that Stiles didn’t need the teasing. Stiles had spent the rest of their stay after breakfast holed up in their hotel room while Lydia and Jordan did all the touristy bits without him and without Derek.

Stiles did try and text Derek a few times, asking him to at least call so they could work this out. That it did not have to change anything unless he let it. But he got no reply and even when Lydia and Jordan came back the redhead hadn’t manged to get through to him either.

Stiles had even gone round to Derek’s the morning before he was due to fly back to LA, he managed to persuade a fellow resident to let him in and made it to the right floor. He’d knocked on Derek’s door until his knuckles were bruised but even though he could hear ESPN playing a basketball match Derek didn’t come to the door. He’d left a note pushed under the door as well as sent him one last text while the plane was taxiing but had heard nothing since.

That had been close to nine months ago and every Podcast Festival or Convention since he would look for Derek in the crowd just to see if he was there. But it seemed like he was only going to ones specific to sport leaving Stiles hopelessly texting and tweeting him over and over asking about the next one he would go to on the off-chance that they could bump into each. And though it was a constant torment he did keep following Derek’s social media, seeing pictures of the owner of his heart walking along beaches shirtless, of seeing him in studios with guests and having family picnics with his sisters when they were in town. The only thing he noted was that there were no pictures of a new woman in his life and each time a fan would comment and ask, Derek seemed to either delete the comment or just straight up ignore it.

That at least did seem to reassure Stiles that what had happened between them had meant something to Derek. He just wished he could at least talk to him so he could find out what.

That had all changed three months before the run up to OZPod, when Lydia was doing some final research on a killer cult in Japan for the last episode in that series they were going to record and called out to Stiles who was trying unsuccessfully to post the second part of the series on the music publishing site.

“What is it Lyds, I’m struggling to upload the most recent episode and would prefer to get it out before the end of the day.” Stiles sighed, refreshing their music page just to check and see if it had finally been uploaded by coming up with nothing that had him returning to their portal to try again.

“Derek has just posted something on Instagram I think you should see.” Lydia said, causing Stiles to frown as he opened a fresh tab to open Derek’s Instagram page which had been saved into his favourites months ago.

The most recent picture showed a bi-pride flag draped over his webby trophy that immediately had Stiles’ heart jumping as he clicked on the picture to see the description that read.

‘DerekHale: I suppose this has been a long time coming considering how I know some of you have noticed that I’m not dating as much as I was before. So here is the long and the short of it on what is probably the best possible day to say this, I’m bisexual. I’ve been trying to ignore this side of myself for a long time by just dating who I thought was the best for me professionally, but honestly, I’ve been kidding myself for a very long time.

There’s a person out there, they know who they are, that I have used, hurt, and put our friendship on the backburner for because of how they made me feel. They made me question myself from the moment we first met, sat backstage at #lapodfest four years ago assuring them that everything was fine was the beginning of something beautiful. And though we’ve had many more downs than ups they mean the world to me.

And while I’m not sure if they will forgive me, if they will let me explain and make up the past nine months of silence to them, I just want them to know how much I have never stopped thinking about and wanting them even if I know that there is a chance they are already taken by someone else.

As for my LGBT fans out there, please believe me when I say I see you, no matter your gender, your pronouns or who you love, you are valid and I love you more than words can ever express.

Derek x

#bivisibilityday #loveislove #bipride #bipositivity #lgbtq #mlm #tfcwdPFam’

“What….?” Stiles murmured, unable to stop himself from reading Derek’s words over and over again as though part of him was sure this was a damned joke.

“Did you never for a moment think that might be why he was distancing himself from you? I could just see it in his face everytime he was around you that he was questioning himself because of you Stiles. While you never felt the real need to come out to anyone except me, Jordan and your dad….it’s harder for some people to get their head around….especially after sleeping with another guy for the first time ever.” Lydia said, from her own computer where she seemed to have taken over trying to upload the episode to give Stiles time to process what he had just read.

“No I didn’t because he was always with women, and I find it so damned to believe that someone like me could turn Derek’s head long enough for him to make him question his sexuality.” Stiles said, scrolling down to read the comments which were filled with admiration and reassurance that whoever he was talking about was so lucky to have Derek in their life. “Although what does he mean by ‘there is a chance he maybe with someone else’?”

“He probably means me.” Lydia sighed causing Stiles to turn in his chair to look at her.

“Wait, what?”

“I don’t know how or who it was, but someone seems to have convinced Derek that you and me are together and have been in all the time that we’ve been doing this podcast together.” Lydia said, meeting Stiles’ gaze over the top of her own computer.

“Oh no….nonono that’s insane! I love you like a sister…. I had a crush on you in high school that went away when you started seeing Jackson. And I mean you’re with Jordan for god’s sake!” Stiles cursed raking his fingers through his hair.

“Well obviously Derek didn’t get the memo. Anyway, if you think about it, it does explain a lot….” Lydia shrugged, attention back on her computer as Stiles turned back to staring at Derek’s post while more comments appeared from fans of Derek’s podcast.

Stiles bit his lip as he let all thoughts of him and Derek together fill his mind, of how Derek would always be touchy feely in his own discreet way when it was the two of them but move away from Stiles when Lydia was with them, how he would always insist that Stiles and Lydia sat together when they went out to eat or how Derek seemed to want to spend time alone with Stiles much more than with Lydia. How Derek had tried to pull Stiles away from Theo since he was under the misconception that Stiles was cheating on Lydia and how even during the Webby’ s show before the after party Derek had sat on the opposite side of the table to the pair. It was all blindingly obvious, that he couldn’t believe that he had missed it.

“Damnit Derek….” Stiles grumbled under his breath, barely restraining the urge to book the first flight to New York to shake some sense into Derek…sense he was sure would end up with the pair of them together again minus a stitch of clothing to the alluring breathy sounds of him fucking Derek hard enough to assure him without a shadow of a doubt that everything Derek felt for him was returned tenfold.

“He’s just sent out a tweet saying he’s going to Melbourne around Christmas for a podfest, I can get Jordan to see if we could be squeezed in if you want the chance to see him in person.” Lydia said, interrupting Stiles from his thoughts.

“That might be the best idea you’ve ever had. Now if you can get that episode to upload all with be right with the world for the next week.” Stiles said, his gaze back on Derek’s post even though deep inside he wasn’t sure he would be able to wait the three months until they were in the same place.

And yet now there he was, wide awake in a powered down plane half way through the flight, staring blankly at the screen showing Michael Jordan’s shot scenes in Space Jam as though that demonstrated just how great of an athlete he actually was.

He had wanted to contact Derek but knew until they were in the same place that there would be only words that could fix this without any action and yet it was the action that he knew they both desperately needed after how it had been since they were together in the same bed. Every night since he discovered Derek’s post he had gone back to it to see more comments of encouragement, more people claiming that whoever that person was they were sure that they missed him and were counting down the days to be back with Derek as well as a couple of people calling Stiles out for not contacting Derek for getting on to twelve months as though it was his fault. To those people Derek had kindly but firmly reiterated that it was his fault, that he had been the one to push that person away and avoided all contact from them and that while he appreciated their support if they posted those comments again they would be blocked.

And yet deep inside Stiles knew he should have tried harder to get Derek to listen to him, instead of giving in when Derek effectively cut him off. He could have camped inside his apartment until he came back, he could have used every social media outlet that they shared to keep contacting him, but he did have to admit that he knew for all his stubbornness that Derek still would have found some way or another keep him at arm’s length until he could figure things out.

Giving in at last when the narrator’s voice started to grate on his nerves, Stiles turned the documentary off and changed the channel to an easy listening radio station before picking up the book from the seat between them and settling in to start the next chapter on Paula Denyer, avoiding moving Lydia’s bookmark in the process since nothing annoyed her more.

The rest of the flight seemed to pass a lot quicker once he fell asleep halfway through reading the chapter on Ivan Milat and woke up to Lydia nudging him as their breakfast was being served by the air hostess. He ended up taking whatever one Lydia didn’t want since it all seemed to taste the same in the air anyway and downed two cups of coffee as he put his own bookmark in the form of his boarding pass to save his page before handing the book back to Lydia.

By then they were only half an hour away from Sydney and a further hour and a half from getting into Melbourne itself and Stiles settled down to watch a couple of episodes of Friends he had seen multiple times before to distract him for the remainder.

They soon arrived in Sydney to blinding sunshine through the windows and the pilot giving the usual welcome to Sydney with the weather forecast and time giving Stiles enough time to push what little he had removed from his carry on back in while removing his passport and next boarding pass for their connecting flight which thankfully gave them long enough to grab a decent coffee in duty free once they passed through security before needing to go to their next gate. Thankfully, their seats were close enough to the main entrance that it made it easy for them disembark first.

They made it through security quickly once they were in the domestic terminal and then join the queue in Starbucks, Lydia pulling out a twenty Australian dollar note from her purse while Stiles let his gaze linger on the menu trying to decide what he felt like. He finally settled on a chocolate Frappuccino and left Lydia in the queue to order after taking their combined luggage to a table outside.

He spent a while checking his social media accounts, liking a few posts from a few fellow true crime podcasters that were also going to the festival and scrolling through Derek’s Instagram page until he reached the most viewed post the other had. Up until that point he hadn’t actually liked Derek’s coming out post because he wasn’t sure if it had been intended to be seen by him or not, but now when they were about to meet he felt he should at least acknowledge it since it meant so much to Derek finally coming out.

He pressed the like button on the post and then typed the three hearts in the colours of the bisexual flag into a comment and pressed post before he changed his mind. Immediately he got a reply from Derek like he had been waiting for Stiles to comment, a heart-eyed emoji followed by a winking blowing kiss emoji with a red heart at the end along with multiple users hearting Stiles’ comment now that Derek had pretty much told them who he had been waiting for.

“You finally reacted to Derek’s post?” Lydia asked as she set his Frappuccino down in front of him before sitting down in the chair beside the one practically creaking under the weight of their carry-on luggage.

“I couldn’t not when hopefully things will finally be sorted between us. I didn’t think Derek would reply…. let alone that every one of his followers would like my comment. My alerts are going to be crazy for the next week.” Stiles sighed, turning the data off on his phone, and setting it on the table so he could focus on his drink.

“Hmmm, well I highly doubt you’ll be spending much time online when you tell Derek the truth about you and me. I’ll be lucky to get you out the hotel for our panel.” Lydia smiled knowingly with a raise eyebrow as Stiles pushed his straw into the drink.

“I doubt we’ll be that bad…. besides maybe I want him to wine and dine me first considering last time was such a disaster.” Stiles shrugged, though knew by the grin on the other’s face she didn’t believe him for a second. She knew him so well.

They spent the rest of their time talking about which serial killers to use for their three Australian killer episodes and downing their drinks before starting the walk towards their gate and sitting with the other passengers waiting to board the rest of the half hour wait.

Yet all too soon they were back on a plane, Stiles back to staring out the window though this time with a knowing smile on his lips as they got settled for the next hour and a half. Lydia immediately began to draw up pros and cons of each of the three serial killers they had chosen and became engrossed in the book again, leaving Stiles to turn on his Wi-Fi once they were in the air and see a DM alert for Instagram waiting for him in his sea of notifications.

DerekHale: I was beginning to wonder if you’d blocked me since it took you so long to react….

Stiles rolled his eyes but shook his head as he replied.

StilesStilin: I couldn’t make myself even if I wanted to….no I was just trying to prevent the onslaught of likes from your fans….so much for that now.

DerekHale: Sorry. I was just so happy to see your comment…. we’ll have to meet up when I get back in the country.

StilesStilin: Or….we could meet up when I finally set foot in Melbourne in about…..oooo an hour….

DerekHale: Wait….you’re coming to OZPod? I didn’t see it mentioned in the schedule for guests….

Stilesstilin: Well it was a last-minute decision….one my manager somehow managed to swing in record timing I might add. Besides, I thought at least this way we could meet up and clear up a few things face to face…

DerekHale: Erm, that….that sounds pretty good actually. What hotel are you staying at? I can come pick you up once you’ve checked in…

StilesStilin: Hold on a sec….

“Lyds what’s the name of the hotel Jordan booked us into? Derek wants to know so he can pick me up when we’ve checked in.” Stiles asked, Lydia barely looking up from what she was doing as she handed him her travel wallet with all the details from her bag and turned back to the book as she left Stiles to sort through the thick pile of paperwork for the right thing.

StilesStilin: QT Melbourne, 133 Russell St. I’ll let you know when we’ve arrived

DerekHale: Sounds good, I’ll see you soon x

Stiles closed the app and turned off the Wi-Fi, letting his gaze rest on the map showing the progress of the flight on the screen in front of him and tried not to count down the minutes obsessively by trying to help Lydia with the final decision on the serial killers they wanted to delve deeper into.

All too soon they were landing in Melbourne and Stiles was barely paying attention to the pilot as he grabbed his bag and led Lydia off the plane as soon as the doors were open. They made it through security and immigration quickly and made their way to the baggage claim where they had to wait longer than normal since Lydia had been hellbent on bringing double her normal luggage and the second case was at the very end of the bundle for their flight. So though he was itching to say to hell with it and leave Lydia there, he settled for putting all the luggage they currently had on a trolley and waiting for the taxi Jordan had booked at the exit of the airport which thankfully didn’t come before Lydia did.

The drive to their hotel wasn’t that far though Stiles spent most of the ride taking pictures of the scenery out the window and itching for them to get there quicker so he could message Derek that he was ready.

Soon they stopped outside a rather posh looking building that had Lydia written all over it and he had a feeling that Jordan had been talked into booking it for that very reason. After paying the driver Lydia led the way inside with Stiles bringing up the rear, as the redhead checked them in.

Since the hotel was one of those with bellboys that reminded Stiles too much of Home Alone 2, one was called to take them to their rooms when Stiles would have preferred to be just given his key and figure out how to get to his room later. But before he could object Lydia was clearing her throat and jerking her head pointedly in the direction of the main entrance, revealing Derek stood there looking as handsome and perfect as the first time they set eyes on each other.

“How?” Stiles asked the redhead as he watched Derek’s face light up from the doorway.

“I texted him on the way from the airport…. I thought it would drive you crazy if you had to wait any longer. So, here’s your key, I’ll get this gentleman to take your luggage up to your room and all being well I’ll see you both at the venue for the convention tomorrow. If you get lost just text me, but whatever you do…. don’t leave him until this is sorted ok?” Lydia said, putting Stiles' key in his hand.

“Thanks Lyds, I owe you one.” Stiles beamed, pushing the card in his hoodie pocket and pecking a kiss to her cheek after putting his bags minus his wallet and phone on the trolley before turning to Derek.

“Aren’t you a sight for jet lagged eyes.” Derek said softly, closing the gap between them and grazing his hand against Stiles’ cheek softly.

“I was just going to say the same thing. Why don’t you show me the way to your hotel just in case and we can get over those few hurdles on the way hm?" Stiles asked, Derek’s hand leaving his face to entwine with his own before leading the way out the hotel.

They had walked a few steps down the street when Stiles began the conversation that they desperately needed to have.

“So, I guess first things first…. congrats on coming out. Though you didn’t really need to.... not for me or for anyone.” Stiles said gently watching Derek’s gaze move to the floor.

“It wasn’t for you at least not completely….it was for me more than anything. Everything I put in that post was true….I had been fighting with myself to ignore who I truly was for so long that it was just getting to the point of exhausting. I’d look at you everytime we were together and all I could feel was acceptance and affection. It was something I had wanted to give myself over to but I struggled so hard to be honest about who I wanted.” Derek said brushing his thumb against Stiles’ knuckles.

“I mean I’ll let you into a secret…. not everyone knows I’m bi. It’s not something I actively tell people about because for me it’s just who I am. I like guys and girls and there is nothing wrong with that…. I just struggle to go for who I want when I find them. I mean for you it was a four-year crush before I could so much as make myself kiss you. Sure, I was drunk which might not have helped…. but that was everything I wanted then and everything that I want now more than ever.” Stiles said softly.

“And I’d be lying if I said I could remember much aside from us making out in the lift that morning….but there was something so freeing about waking up beside you and knowing that what we had done was what I wanted. But it was complicated by my own feelings, the guilt of being so sure I took advantage of you like Theo did…” Derek said thickly, the realization that Derek was sure he had forced himself on Stiles made his eyes wide and his stomach roll.

God no wonder he had been so hell bent on leaving.

“But you didn’t. I remember more than enough to know that every single part of that I wanted and needed because it was you Derek.” Stiles soothed, even as Derek swallowed and shook his head.

“But Theo….” Derek began only for Stiles to sigh and shake his head

“No, you are not Theo. Theo was jumped up little upstart who wanted what he could get so it would help his career in the future. You, god Derek…you are nothing like him. Not to mention the whole time I was kissing Theo and letting him fuck me I was thinking of you. If I hadn’t had you on my mind I’m sure without a shadow of a doubt that I would not have let him so much as touch me.” Stiles said, earning a sad smile from Derek.

“What did Lydia say when she found out about you and Theo?" Derek asked causing Stiles shake his head and laugh.

“Another thing we need to clear up Derek, me and Lydia aren’t together together. She’s been one of my closest friends since high school who agreed to do me a solid with a podcast that ended up bonding us and while I had a crush on her it didn’t last long and meant nothing. Besides she’s taken to dating our manager for the past two years….so even if I was interested which I’m not I wouldn’t have a chance anyway. So, I don’t know who told you that but it isn’t true.” Stiles said watching Derek’s ears flush red.

“It was Kate, though looking back she might have done that on purpose to make sure my attention was on her. It definitely explains a lot and makes me wonder why I didn’t just ask you sooner…” Derek said thoughtfully.

“I suppose that does make sense; she really was a possessive little bitch. Still at least you know the truth now.” Stiles smiled, as they finally appeared outside a hotel that looked way more expensive than anything, he could afford even after ransacking their Patreon savings. “Damn Derek…”

“It’s quite something isn’t it? My assistant Braeden picked it at random when she was doing the bookings for this trip. Still the outside pales in comparison to the inside…” Derek smiled, leading Stiles through the foyer towards the lift.

“How about compared to your room…?” Stiles asked, watching a shy twinkle appear in the other’s eyes.

“My room is amazing in itself, but I’m sure without a shadow of a doubt that it would be all the better if you were sharing it with me.” Derek murmured, grazing Stiles’ cheek with his free hand before cupping the back of his neck and kissing Stiles deeply.

It wasn’t filled with the same drunken urgent hunger that their first one was, it was sweet and yet filled with a sense of adoration that had Stiles practically melting into it. Letting Derek take the lead and suck at his bottom lip gently enough to part them before deepening it just a little more with Derek’s tongue grazing against his own.

“Um….you know if you’re going to come up with smooth lines and kisses like those every damn time I get an invitation like that then I think I can easily agree….” Stiles murmured when they parted far enough for their foreheads to rest together.

“You sure….? I don’t want to rush things this time Stiles…. I don’t want it to be like it was before all wham bam thank you mam get the fuck out my bed. I want you to devour you sober, to know what you like and how your body reacts with each touch. So, if you aren’t ready….” Derek said huskily.

“Derek Derek Derek….it’s been twelve months since I last set eyes let alone tasted your gorgeous body so there is no doubt in my mind that I’m ready. But I think that this time…. after that morning after I think I deserve a turn don’t you?" Stiles purred, the doors opening and him tugging Derek inside so he could press the right button.

“Oh really? What do you have in mind?” Derek asked, pressing the ninth-floor button without looking, his whole attention fixated on Stiles.

“Oh, I don’t know, your whole gloriously naked hot body on display for my attention only and willing to give in to any whim that I want. After all…. you may have got to fuck me Derek…..but I haven’t had the complete joy of showing you how amazing it can feel on the receiving end just yet.” Stiles smiled flirtatiously, biting his bottom lip as he backed into a corner of the lift and curled his arms around Derek’s neck to pull him with him.

“I thought I was supposed to be making it up to you, that hardly seems fair…” Derek murmured, brushing his lips teasingly against Stiles’ as his hands rested on Stiles’ hips.

“Oh, but you will be. Trust me?” Stiles whispered, letting one hand move from Derek’s neck and tracing down the length of his back until his fingers grazed down between Derek’s denim clad ass cheeks causing the taller to groan in the back of his throat.

“I can’t imagine doing anything else….” Derek said hoarsely, letting Stiles’ lips capture his own as the youngers hand slid inside his jeans and boxers and dug his nails into the bare skin of his ass willingly just as the doors opened on the correct floor.

Stiles directed Derek out the lift their mouths still moving hungrily together, until Derek was pushed up against the wall opposite the lift so the doors could close. Their mouths parted as Derek arched his back against the wall at the tightening grip Stiles had on his ass and how Stiles’ mouth moved from his own despite his whimper of objection to sucking bruises into his neck.

“Which room is yours?" Stiles asked, as the tip of his index finger grazed against Derek’s taint causing him to curse and his hips to jerk against Stiles’ at the sensation.

“Erm….Fuck Stiles….” Derek cursed, Stiles taking pity on him enough to remove one hand to take the key card from Derek’s pocket.

“Room 903…. which is right here…..” Stiles crooned, catching Derek’s mouth again in a dirty kiss as he guided him across the corridor to the right door. “Um…. you gonna open the door for me Der? Sooner we get in there sooner I can make you feel even better.”

Derek cursed again as he panted hungrily against Stiles’ mouth reluctantly letting go of Stiles’ hip long enough to take the key from Stiles and swipe it as the younger ground his cock against his own teasingly. Once the door was opened Stiles smiled at him wickedly and captured Derek’s lips again with his own as he pushed away from the wall and let Derek back him into the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

The next morning the pair arrived at the convention a little later than initially planned, though that was in no small part due to Stiles getting distracted by Derek’s naked body in the shower at least twice and being unable to help himself from indulging in the body that he had worshipped that night before. It was more than obvious to everyone around them why they were late, if not due to the fact that Stiles was wearing some of Derek’s clothes that were ridiculously big on him or because of the bruises covering Derek’s neck and how his attention seemed fixated on Stiles then by the way they were holding hands as they wove their way through the crowd with Derek’s assistant Braeden who was no doubt going to give Derek a talking to for being late.

“Stiles there you are! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming or that was I was going to have to send Jordan to Derek’s hotel to get you.” Lydia huffed, appearing from the crowd with Jordan behind her.

“Sorry Lyds, we got a bit distracted or else we would have been here earlier.” Stiles smiled, the innuendo causing Derek’s ears to go read and Braeden to roll her eyes.

“Hm, I’m sure. Anyway, we’re up next, I’ve managed to get together enough information on Paula Deyer but we might need to do a bit of comparison with a few other well-knowns to stretch it out a little.” Lydia said, letting Stiles take the script she was holding in his free hand and give it a look through as Derek let go of his hand and curled his arms around his waist instead, letting his lips rest against the nape of Stiles’ neck as he looked the script over too.

“I think I might have a few more books on Australian serial killers I can loan you when we’re back in the states if that would help…” Derek said gently into Stiles’ skin causing a shiver down Stiles’ spine even as he looked over his shoulder at his other half.

“Really? I didn’t know that was something you were interested in Der…” Stiles asked, turning the page on the script.

“Not so much….but since I knew it was what you were going to be looking into next I asked a few old friends in the true crime genre who gave me some recommendations.” Derek shrugged, one hand sliding under the hemline of Stiles’ shirt only for Stiles catch it by lacing the fingers of his free hand with Derek’s to stop it venturing any further.

“We’d appreciate any help we can get…” Stiles said out loud, before raking his fingers through Derek’s hair and pulling his ear closer towards his mouth before murmuring. “Not now Der…but I swear as soon as this is over you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Um, I’m planning it right now as we speak.” Derek grinned into the side of his neck before letting Stiles go and watching him follow Lydia up on to the stage.

Stiles met his gaze before he disappeared through the curtains and winked at him knowingly before the sound of the Talk Murder to Me Theme song blared over the PA accompanied by the sound of fans screaming in welcome and closely followed by Stiles’ Melodious voice welcoming the crowd and doing the usual introduction that Derek had heard so many times before. Though never had it made his heart soar more than to know that the man on the other side of that curtain was and would always be his if he had anything to say about it.

Fin.

[hs-devote]

18. E X C L A M A T I O N

Moodboard // Content // Masterlist

Disclaimer:

All characters and situation in this story are fictitious. Resemblance to any person living or dead is only God knows.

Previous chapter;

It took a few moments for Y/N to connected the dot. One thought came up yet she really didn't like this, “So, you said that Dale Jespersen–”

“Jaden Peesel and Randell are the same person, and he's Dale Jespersen.” 18. EXCLAMATION

Cutting someone off was rude. But, she didn't mind, for now, since she didn't think her tongue could spill whatever she was having in her head. However, what Douglas just said earlier made her blinked.

“How come?”

She tilted her head toward her boyfriend, watching Harry gave Douglas a keen look. His voice was surprisingly steady yet firm as always. His demeanour was nothing to worried about.

For now.

"Randell didn't take the payment through a bank account, the media paid him cash. Meanwhile, Dale's account was increasing high a week before the tape being published. His transaction record shows money out to Victoria's account three days since she sent the video to Jaden Peesel, and some certain amount made into his account in three consecutive days a week after the media gave the cash to Randell."

“He might look like shrewd, but he made one omission, Mr Styles.” Eric added, “Randell's signature is exactly the same with Dale Jespersen.”

Eric gave him a copy of agreement where Randell sold the video and the media must keep his identity secret. Then, gave him another one of Dale's signature.

How could Dale be smart and stupid at the same time?

“That's a stupid move if he wants to be anonymous but make an agreement like that." Roman murmured.

Douglass nodded, “Not only that, Victoria once sent a message to Dale that she succeeded to steal the tape from Ms Powell and sent it to Jaden Peesel and Randell's number. Here.”

The man gave Harry another copy transcript of the evidence, only made the CEO of Erskine furious. Y/N could tell her boyfriend now was suppressing his anger, it was clear from how hard he gripped the papers of evidence in his hand.

“Jaden Peesel and Randell are Dale Jesperson. Victoria Selley is the one who worked with him and it obvious that the two of them started this commotion."

“Fucking hell!”

Everyone flinched in their seats as Harry punch the table with his bare hand. The atmosphere felt thick and intense, no one dare to open their mouth. Y/N watched Harry lowered down his head, gripping his hair hardly and growling fumingly. Exhaling deeply, all she could do now is rubbing his back up and down to soothe him.

“But, what's the reason?" Elle cried, "Vic and I are best friends! We're good with each other!"

“At this point, Ms Powell," Allen began, "We all know Mr Styles and Dale Jespersen are eternal enemies if I could say. They haven't had a good relationship since back then. As for Victoria Selley, we don't know yet what her motive is. But, all I know is Victoria was bitter about her break up with Mr Styles."

“And now, both of them teamed up to take revenge on Harry.” Y/N mumbled, “How could they both know each other?”

“Those two are still on my list, Ms Y/L/N. After this meeting, we'll file this case immediately with all this evidence. We don't yet know their reason. However, they got arrest, we can get that answer."

All of them was mind-blowing. Never crossed her mind, someone who made this mess was the one who was always looking for trouble with Harry. Dissatisfied with the previous one, Dale now came up with a bigger issue. And to make the matters worse, he teamed up with someone she didn't think of.

“I don't know your friend is such a snake, Elle.” Sebastian sighed, “A true friend would never do that.”

“It all makes no sense. I can't believe it.” whined Elle, “We're still in touch until now for fuck sake!”

“How could you not see that, Elle. The fucking footage proves your rotten friend betrayed you. That bitch doesn't deserve to be called a friend.” Harry snarled, raising his head to stare at everyone in the room. Even though his eyes weren't on her, Y/N could feel he wasn't Harry. His persona turned 180 degrees different.

“I want that pile of shit and the cheap whore get arrested the day after tomorrow at most.” he seethed, “I don't care how much I will pay the police to quickly arrest them. I want the news of their arrest in three days. Widespread throughout the entire earth if necessary.”

Without any other words, he got up from the chair and exited the meeting room – leaving the loud bang of the door echoed in the air.

“I'll come with you. Because it's not only Mr Styles who's a disadvantage here, Ms Powell lost 30% of her contract just because of that." Roman spoke, "I believe we better go today."

“Just, just do what must be done, Allen, Mr Kane. And thanks for the hard work, also for Eric and Douglas." Y/N drew a heavy breath, "And for Elle, I'm sorry for all this mess. You're not the only one who hurt, many parties feel the impact."

“As for Harry, I believe he's unstable right now. You guys know how hard he holds his temper." she added.

“I'm sorry for that old video, Y/N. I intended nothing for keeping the video."

It felt like a dream for Elle being nice to her. Because the first time they met, Elle was uncomfortable with her. And how she was apologising about the tape, made nice progress. Y/N bit her lip before giving the woman a small smile, "It's the past we couldn't get rid of. Some of our younger behaviours are stupid, reckless, and questionable. This has all happened, so.." she shrugged, "The most important thing is, we have to quickly close this case so it doesn't get worse."

Elle frowned, “But, what stuck in my head is.. why?”

“Their reason is still mysterious, Elle. Once we meet them, we have to force them to speak.” she sighed, “No matter what.” . . . .

Some days were still needed before the files completed and submitted. At the same time, it was reported that Dale had submitted his resignation from Machtig. Even his house, which had been spied by Allen's worker, hadn't shown the slightest bit of activity during the last three days of spying.

It was no secret Harry went on a rampage. His current level of anger surpassed anything else, and it was the worst everyone have seen. It all went more and more disastrous when the client bluntly revealed the reasons for their backing out.

We couldn't work with 'someone' like you

How the hell Erskine have porn crazed man as their leader?

It would damage our image if we continued to work with Erskine

All of those made Harry almost destroy his own office. He was seeing red, the only thing he knew was a burning fire – as in his head and feelings right now. He felt like being surrounded by flames that were ready to devour him.

Erskine's stock fell dramatically, he was forced to close several branch offices that weren't profitable and resulted in laid-off his employees. This was the darkest stage in his life; never thought he would step into a black abyss like this.

Every night, Y/N would always accompany Harry on late-night meeting with the finance staffs, HR staffs, and several related divisions to calculate how much money left for Erskine could pay their employees. And it ended with them deciding which candidate to get layoff next.

This wasn't an easy task to write down the names of employees to be fired. Harry knew his soon-to-be fired employees have obligations and responsibilities of their families. However, it was the best choice and he hoped they would understand and get a better job.

How was Marcel doing?

Oh, the man loved it so much.

The anger, the stress, the betrayal burnt his emotion and let Marcel smirked in his glory. Marcel was still Marcel, with his arrogance and extremely temper. The broken door, shattering glass, and pieces of papers were his masterpiece. All the shouting and yelling were him. The office atmosphere was unpleasant and less comfortable. Even when Harry or him passed in front of the employees, everyone seemed afraid albeit in their hearts, Y/N knew they didn't like him. All they could do was stay silent rather than be his target or be the next employee to get layoff.

But, one thing surprised her. He could be a little rational when in a meeting even though a few harsh words slipped out. Hell, even he was nice enough to her.

If he barked at employees, tore their papers, slammed doors in their faces, or smashed glass to intimidate them, Marcel was never more than scowled at her – unlike their first encounter.

Of course in this kind of state, Marcel was more dominant than Harry. No wonder if Marcel was more present than her actual boyfriend. And it made her worry since it had been five days in a row Harry couldn't switch his position. Y/N had started to panic, she couldn't think of Harry wouldn't come back again.

“How's he doing?”

“Awful.” she sighed, “I don't know what to do any more, Niall.”

Since Marcel had been here long enough than Harry, and of course he missed the therapy, Y/N took initiative to meet with Niall herself – without Marcel knowing. She was sure Marcel would go mad if he found out that she secretly met Niall to fix him. Both of them now were in a coffee shop somewhere in Borough, and had been talking for half an hour – about none other than Harry Styles.

“Where is he now?”

“In his penthouse. The last time I checked he was playing FIFA when I said goodbye.”

Niall raised an eyebrow, “And Erskine?”

“We're on the most critical stage since it was founded, according to the legal team. Marcel even want to retire and sell the company for fuck sake!”

“H would smack him for that.”

“Absolutely," she nodded, "Since the client doubt Harry's performance and scoffs at our leader is a porn star – according to them, we now just have five companies remaining. And we don't know if when they will announce the back out."

“I'm sorry for that, Y/N.” Niall smiled apologetically, “God knows how strong you're guys.”

“That's why we think to change the CEO's position temporarily until Harry and Erskine are completely clean from this case.” she shrugged, “At least it may growth their trust again, while we rest Harry and help him to find his way back.”

“How did he respond that?” Niall sipped his coffee, “That's a huge step.”

“The directors and I haven't told him yet. But I think, we'll kinda lie at him. Says he definitely needs his leave while someone will take over the position. And of course, we'll lend that important seat to the rightful person."

“Do you have the name?”

“We have. But, I'll discuss this thing with his mother first. It's her late husband's company after all.”

“If I could be honest, Y/N, this is the most Marcel has been in Harry's body in consecutive days. And if we don't help him, it might get worse than we thought. I bet he threw the medicines away.” he stared at her, “Why don't you take him on holiday? It can help him to clear his mind.”

Y/N squinted her eyes, “Don't you think it's a bit risky? He'll reject it at very second.”

“From what I've heard from you, Marcel was likely growing an attachment with you." he smiled, "Which something I was surprised."

“Take the advantage and bring Harry back with us. I can't lose my best friend and we'll work together for that, Y/N.” . . . .

To Y/N dismay, Marcel rejected her offer first, said it wasn't important. Yet, she managed to persuade him and said he needed some time away to shut off this mess. She wouldn't take a risk to bring him far away from London, and her choice fell on Windermere.

The natural beauty of England's largest lake could be enjoyed directly through the cottage she rented for a week. She didn't know how many days they would need, that made her rent the contemporary property for the whole week. The house was lying on the shores of the lake, offering four bedrooms with four bathrooms also. The kitchen and dining space holding magnificent views across the lake, not to mention they had private shoreline and jetty mooring. Such a unique escape and worth the four hours drive from home.

It had been three days they were there and Harry seemed to be enjoying his rest here. The new situation and different vibes calmed him and made Marcel less frequent. Everything Harry did was cycling around the district, took a long walk, even swimming in the Lake Windermere. The lake itself was well-known as the largest and deepest in England, it made her nervous because Harry was so stubborn and insistent to do wild swimming there.

However, a few things happened and made him changed upon his return. If he left as Harry, he would back as Marcel. Like this morning, he was her Harry. But, when he got back after finished his jog, his aura was different. He was cursing all the time, ignoring her questions. And from that moment, she knew he was Marcel.

“What happened, Harry? You were fine this morning." Y/N asked her tenth question for him, didn't give up to get the answer she wanted. She knew the man who was drinking in front of her was Marcel, but if he didn't want to answer, Y/N would find it difficult to find out the case.

“That fucking asshole got on my nerves,” grunted him, “He threw his water on me. Who does he think he is?!”

She raised an eyebrow, “He threw water on you? What was the reason?”

“Like the hell I care?” he rolled his eyes, “But, I think the bloody nose will teach him the lesson.”

“Harry.” Y/N stressed her words, her legs stepping closer to him, “Did you punch him?”

“Of fucking course! What do you expect me to do? Doing nothing like an idiot?” Marcel tilted his head, “He got my face wet, and I got his nose wet. Paid off.”

Her shoulder fell off, "The wet is a different kind, Harry. But, you just punched him, right? Nothing more serious?"

“Why do you ask me like that, darling?" he smirked, "That's a bit weird. You seem don't mind me punching someone."

She gulped, feeling overwhelmed by the fact that Marcel brought his face closer. His eyes which although almost resembled Harry's, still kept her struck in the place. Albeit Marcel inhabits the body of her lover, the feeling of intimidation by someone who wasn't so familiar still made her skin tingled.

“That better than you drown him on the lake.” she murmured, yet at once she cursed her stupidity for saying like that. She had to quickly cover it before Marcel got suspicious, “I'm joking. I don't know if he was rude to you or not but I think he kinda deserved it if he had no reason to threw his water.”

“You're funny," he shook his head before pulling his face away and walked inside, "Would you fancy home-cooked meal? I'm not into a take away for today."

“Would you do the dish afterwards?" Y/N wiggled her eyebrow, looking at Marcel who was digging the shelves in the kitchen. One thing she liked about him was, he loved cooking more than Harry. Harry loved to cook, but not as often as Marcel if he was here. Marcel would almost cook every day if he was present, even though he had a rough day or his anger was on the cloud.

“Only if you clean the table beforehand.”

“Only clean the table?”

“You heard me m'lady.”

“Deal.”

. . . .

The holiday originally was for them only. But, Y/N invited Anne to come two days before their return to London. This short escape was help Harry to rest and gather his energy, as evident from Marcel that barely appeared since he admitted he punched someone's nose.

The morning was only seven straight, Harry was still sleeping safe and sound while Y/N just opened her eyes five minutes ago. His heavy arm draped her naked side tightly with his other one was folded behind his head. She brought her fingers running along his chiselled jaw, down to his lower lip and made a stop in the chin. He was so peaceful and fragile when he was sleeping, yet once he opened that damn gorgeous pair of green eyes, he would turn into a solid one.

Her memory took her back to the last night sex. She didn't lie when she said both of them were sex-crazed. They were always constantly had sex everywhere or whenever they had the chance. Either a wild one or the gentle one. Y/N also didn't understand why her intercourse activity was high, whereas previously with Elliott, she wasn't that frequent to have sex.

She drew a smile remembering how beautiful the sunset was while she moaned Harry's name. Since their bedroom had windows overlooking the lake, it was a nice addition to heeding their sex activities. The warm sunlight cast Harry's beautiful face sweating as he deepened his thrust, grunting deeply while the woman beneath him squinted her eyes in pleasure. And when they both reached their high together, the sky was already dark since the sun had gone down, their hot bodies shivered from the cold wind kissed their body.

Hell, even thinking about that made her down there throbbing nervously.

Y/N never denied that Harry was the greatest sex she ever had. His little seductive comment would always get her wet. And sometimes made her think there was something wrong with her because she was so easily aroused.

She was too busy with her own daydream to notice that Harry had opened his eyes and was watching his girlfriend stroking his cheek slowly. He intentionally didn't make the slightest sound or movement, waiting for Y/N to realise that he was awake.

“Enjoying me that much?”

The way his morning voice was raspy and thick out of his mouth, startled the girl all of sudden. Her hand jerked away from his smooth cheek, tucking it below her chin. Harry giggled of the way she blinked her eyes, before throwing the sharp look on him.

“Good morning, baby.” he snuggled closer to her neck with arms tightening around her waist, his naked fingers drawing the circle on her lower back seductively.

“Good morning, golden.”

“Golden?” raised an eyebrow, Harry gave her a questionable look while head tilted up to her. “What's golden?”

She hummed, stroking his sharp jawline playfully, “Mmhm. The way your face lit up when the ray of sunshine glistened your pretty face, it has the golden beauty, H.”

“Such an unusual nickname,” he shrugged, “But, I like the definition.”

“Glad to hear that.”

“Anyway," he sighed, placing his palm on her hip instead, "Mum will come today, right? What time will she arrive? I think we can get her from the station?"

“Around four? But, she told me earlier we don't need to pick her up since she will take a taxi to get here.”

“All right,” he yawned, “Let me stay still like this for a bit before we have breakfast.” said him before nudged his head on the crook of her shoulder, his index finger stroking her hip gently.

Harry and Y/N were silent for five minutes, didn't say a word – just enjoying the closeness to each other. She almost fell back asleep if Harry's cheeky hands went down her stomach, teasing her down there. She gulped and whined at the same time when his fingers nudged her core, playing with her clit before gone to feeling her inner thigh.

“Harry..”

“Darling..”

A frustrated sigh was coming from her mouth when Harry rolled his finger up and down her cunt, feeling the sticky and wetness of her before taking the next step that made Y/N shake. She let out a whimper when his thumb nudged her clit, moaning deeply when she felt his two fingers being pushed into her.

“My sweetheart is always wet and ready for me.” he hummed in her ear, still with his fingers pumping in and out of her, “Such a beautiful morning, yeah? Me and you, after our endless sex last night and waking up aroused and loaded.”

“Harry..” she whined, her chest rose up and down to catch the breath since she was running out of the oxygen. And all of that because how magically his fingers worked her out.

“Come for me, baby. Come in my fingers, I know you need that. Want you to clench my fingers.” muttered him while fastening his fingers' thrust on her, “Do it, darling. Do it for me.”

Harry didn't need much time for lifted his body and hovering the girl he was fingering, while he added the third finger, he leaned down to kiss her. A satisfaction smirk formed on his lips when Y/N buckled her hip and lolling her head, feeling the overwhelmed of his three fingers working on her. She cried out when her man picked up the speed, only for made her moan even more.

“Harry..”

He kissed her throat, “Such a good girl. You feel so good.”

Y/N felt that. Her stomach twisted in pleasure while she screamed out his name, feeling the high came to reach her. Harry smiled, shaking his head looking down at his wet-sticky fingers after he pulled out. Bringing them on his mouth, he licked all of them clean.

She was gasping for a breath while her eyes set off of her boyfriend who was licking her sweetness on him. Her droopy eyes stared dreamily on him, watching the way he was naked with all of his glory and his pride resting stiffly between his thick thighs. She gulped, thinking how easy for him to get horny and now, the way his length sprung confidently in front of him, she was sure they wouldn't get off this bed for another hour.

“Your cock is cocked.” she bluntly said, giving him an unbelievable look.

“Love that my baby paid attention,” he chuckled, “Thinking you can handle the loaded morning?”

“I th–”

The way Harry frowned over the ringing phone showing he was annoyed. He was about to fulfil his lust but the damn call in disturbed their morning. Y/N giggled softly when Harry moved away from the bed and stomped his footsteps, acting like an annoyed little kid.

“It's Allen." he murmured while looking at the bright screen, then exchanging a look with Y/N.

“Harry." she gave him a warning look before shaking her head – no. Along they spent the time here, both of them agreed to not picking up a work call. Whatever it was. She wanted to make this short holiday their temporary escape from work, she just wanted to unwind and forget about problems for a moment.

“This must be important." he looked at her, like he was asking permission, "Please?"

If it was Allen, something must have happened. And Harry was right; if Allen called him, he would deliver important news. And maybe, maybe it would bring some relief for both of them considering how much they were facing right now.

“Put on the speaker, I don't want you to take the news yourself."

Harry just nodded, before swiped up his screen and put his phone on the bed – leaving the speaker on. She mouthed a thank you, then focusing on what Allen would tell them.

“Allen?”

“Hello, Harry. How are you? How's the holiday?”

He stole a glance from her before shrugging his shoulder, “I'm fine, thanks. The holiday is.. amazing. What made you call me, Allen?”

“Something with the case, H.”

Again, he looked at Y/N who was also staring at him. The way they exchanged looks telling each other they didn't know what the lawyer would tell him. Y/N just nodded her head, letting her boyfriend continue.

“And.. what's that?”

“We knew we've taken this case to legal action. With all of the evidence lead to Dale Jespersen and Victoria Selley, they were being sought while this escalates the lawsuit in court. Victoria Selley has been arrested at her house, but for Dale Jespersen, they still couldn't find them." he paused, "We have a suspicion that he changed his identity. Or the worst, fled out of England."

“I thought you should know what to do, Allen." he scoffed, "Spread out his picture and activity record! Ban him for travelling overseas. Should I be the one who tells you such a simple thing like this?"

The rage on his eyes wasn't something difficult to understand, Y/N might never know what it was like if she was him for now, but she knew well the anxiety and anger flooded on him. She couldn't reprimand him who was currently yelling at his lawyer, all she did was wait for him. She flinched when he was screaming at the top of his lung at Allen when he got the dissatisfaction, only to get him angered even more. Raised her hand to try to ease him, she was flabbergasted when Harry quickly shoved her palm away – grabbing his mobile phone and walked out of their room. Y/N could no longer her Allen's voice, it seemed her boyfriend had turned off the speaker.

Harry never shied away from her, no matter what.

She didn't know what are they talking any more or how he cursed his lawyer. She would take a guess he was on the other side of the cottage, or even on the patio. But, that was impossible considering he was still naked. He didn't even take his shorts on him before walking out!

“Fucking moron!”

No, it wasn't the curse made her flinch. The way Harry slammed hard the door made her jump on the skin, along with the banging wooden table. She just prayed that Harry didn't break something here, but she had to get prepared – especially Anne would come today. She didn't want Marcel's presence today.

Should she do that?

Her phone was in her hands, but she was still hesitant to call someone she wanted to ask for help. She didn't want to bother that person, especially they were on holiday. However, her determination was unanimous when another slamming door being heard again. Y/N didn't know if it was still Harry, or Marcel. Quickly she found a name in her contact and pressed the call button without hesitation.

. . . .

Anne knocked on their door exactly at four while her son was out from an hour ago. Both of the women hugging each other before Y/N helped Anne with her suitcase, and of course the mother would ask her son whereabouts since it was only Y/N who opened the door for her.

“Harry is out. I think he's taking a walk, or cycling?” Y/N mumbled after escorted Anne to her room.

Anne just nodded, but, she quickly noticed something was wrong when her son's girlfriend looked off. Squinting her eyes, she took Y/N's arms and bring her down to sit with her.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? You look.. off.”

A nervous laugh came out from Y/N's mouth, "I'm fine. It's just.. well, Harry is in a bad mood today, so don't be surprised if he's a little grumpy."

“You two didn't fight, did you?” Anne frown, “Did I come at a bad time?”

“No, no. We didn't fight. We're fine, really fine.”

“Good then. The bruised on your neck told me so.”

Y/N gaped at what Anne just said, her face flushed in embarrassment and reflexively covered her neck. While she was feeling awkward, Anne just winked at her – laughing softly before patted her arm.

“Do you want me to look around? We have our private dock and I believe you'll like it.” she quickly changed the subject, hoping Anne would do that. She couldn't linger staring at the older woman after she was being caught for her sex life.

“Sure. This cottage is so pretty, you know?” Anne smiled, getting up from the bed and went out with Y/N.

“Definitely. I rented this right away when I saw the description.”

Y/N happily guided Anne to each room while Anne admired every corner of the cottage they rent. She squealed in surprise when her eyes caught an outside hot tub with the lake viewing. But, the things she liked the most were the massive kitchen and the terrace with the beautiful lake view every day.

“How's him, Y/N? How's Harry coping with all those problems?” asked Anne, sitting in the iron chair. Her eyes stared warmly at Y/N, soft yet worries smile adorned her lips, “He wouldn't tell me about that in the slightest, and I'm worried about him if he keeps it to himself.”

“The good news, Anne, we're going to file a lawsuit in court with all valid evidence we have, and I'm sure Harry will win this case. One of the subjects has been arrested while the main man is still out there. And it leads to the bad news."

“That was... fast?”

Y/N nodded, "I know. But, it's not – according to Harry. He thinks Allen and his team are taking too long to deal with all of these, and he has been emotionally unstable since Allen called him this morning for only told him another subject still hasn't caught."

“And.. Erskine? Lucas would take over his job for a while, wouldn't he?"

“It's the best choice at the moment. We thought with Harry being so unstable controlling his anger lately, and the client's currently waning trust in him – we asked your nephew to help us at our headquarter since he already understands his duties and not someone else for the company – especially he's the family. I apologise if our plan is presumptuous, we're just trying to keep your family's business."

“I understand, Y/N. Lucas told me your plan to try to foster the client's trust by temporarily changing Harry's position. He also said you guys lost a lot of clients, and that's obviously a big problem." Anne sighed, "This isn't easy for my son."

“I can't even imagine being him, Anne. With so much to endure, he must be so depressed. I don't blame him for always having a hard time holding back his anger.” she mumbled, “He didn't even take his medicine! He needs them to help him relax.”

The sound of the opened gate made the two woman pause, turning their gaze to Harry's figure who had just returned. Anne hurriedly walked in to meet him in the hallway, while Y/N following behind her. Harry wasn't so surprised to see his mother in front of him, he quickly greeted her and hugged the woman who gave birth to him.

“I'm going upstairs. Just call me if the dinner was ready." he gave them a small nod before jog up to the second floor. Y/N just smiled apologetically at Anne who was shrugging her shoulders, "That's what worries me."

“Was he like that from the start of this holiday?”

“He was unstable. He was fine at first, but if something ticked him, he just threw rude or harsh word. Then, this morning became worst – like what I told you before. He was screaming, even slamming the door.”

Anne pinched her temple, “I'll try to talk to him at dinner. Maybe he'll listen to his mother. He shouldn't be so tense on his break time.”

. . . .

“What are you doing here?”

Yesterday, exactly when Harry was on the phone with Allen, Y/N took a risky decision. With doubts put aside, she called Niall for advice. Since their holiday should go well, it turned a little unpleasant because a few small things bothered Harry and even got Marcel had the chance to swap their positions. Being the kindest person he was, Niall offered to visit them. Mainly last night Y/N sent him a message that Harry or Marcel, had yelled at Anne. And that wasn't a nice thing to see.

How did Anne respond? Of course, she was shocked. Her son had never yelled at her for such a small thing. No, Anne wasn't angry. Anne was concerned and worried about him.

Niall's smiled faltered when his blue eyes seeing Harry was standing in front of him. The way his best friend's green eyes showed displeasure at his presence, and from then on he could tell Harry was in a complete mess.

“I met him at a cafe not far from here this morning, he was ordering his breakfast when I said hello. Turn out he's in a symposium. And I invited him over for lunch.” Y/N lied, exchanging the look with Niall beside her. Impossible for her to be honest with her boyfriend, he could have thrown his best friend out if she intentionally invited Niall to come over.

“Hello, H. It's been so long since your last session.” Niall shrugged, “How are you?”

“Fine,” Harry muttered, then he flicked his eyes to her, “Mum was asking for you. She needs your help with the noodles.”

She nodded, “All right.” then smiled to both men, “I'll leave you two.”

Y/N rushed to meet Anne in the kitchen while occasionally glancing out the window watching Harry and Niall who started talking while walking towards the patio.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” Anne threw a question while stirring her pot, “Is he suspicious?”

“I told him I met Niall just this morning and he's on.. a business trip, kind of. Then, I asked him to come over.” she answered, “He was a little unfriendly to Niall. But, he did nothing.”

“I just wish he could open up to his friend, at least. Maybe he's a bit hesitant to talk with me.” Anne sighed, “I can't believe he hesitated to talk to his mother or girlfriend.”

“Maybe he would feel comfortable talking to another male."

If only Anne knew..

Niall was her son's doctor, a psychiatrist. It was very easy for a professional like him to get Harry to talk to him. He wasn't only acting like a best friend, but also a doctor to his patients. And Y/N put hopes on Niall, so at least her boyfriend could hold his emotions and let this short getaway be a success for him to calm down.

“Harry doesn't look that tense any more. The way he's standing more relaxed now.”

“Should we call them in? I think they'll be more comfortable talking with stomach full.”

Anne just smiled and nodded while preparing the plates. The conversation between Niall and Harry stopped as she slid the door and invite them for the lunch.

During the lunch, Harry had his mouth shut closed – just enjoying his meal. Sometimes it made Niall had to led the conversation so he would join them. Y/N and Anne sighed in relief when Harry was laughing a little for whatever jokes that Niall said. At least, that's a good thing Y/N had seen since he received the call from Allen.

Talking about that, Harry still hadn't told her what made him so annoyed when his lawyer called him. She also didn't dare to ask him straight forward, just let him took his time to come and told her – if he wanted to.

The sun was getting dimmer, and Niall was still talking with Harry – took him to the dock and making Harry unconsciously undergo his therapy session. It took them almost two hours before they get back inside.

Y/N paced back and forth waiting for Niall in the hallway, while peeking at him who was saying goodbye to Harry and Anne. She exhaled in relief when Niall approached her at the door.

“Is it done?” she bit her lip, whispering to Niall since she didn't want Harry to hear them.

“He's fine,” Niall nodded, “He's unstable, even when I talked to him his emotions were volatile. His resentment towards Dale greatly affected his mood.”

She lowered his voice, “Was Marcel there? He showed up this morning, I think. It was when his lawyer called him.”

“Even Harry behaved as normally as possible, I think a third of our conversation – I spoke to Marcel. And that was the most friendly conversation with Marcel. If usually he always bitter to me, he just told about his grudge and disgust – albeit he had snap at me beforehand.”

“Will he be okay? Do you think this will be successful?” she worried, “He could stay away from his phone and not think too much about all of these. But, Harry is still Harry.”

“Honestly, he refused when I asked him to take his medicine. Which I think it was Marcel who refused me, not Harry. But, you may try dissolving the medicine and mix it with his food.”

“I'll try.” she mumbled, then smiling sincerely, “Thank you so much for taking your time to come here. That's very helpful.”

“My pleasure, Y/N. I happen to be in Leeds, so not that far to drive here. Besides, I'm also worried about him.” he sighed, scratching his nose, “How's Erskine, anyway? Heard from him, he has no more control in the company.”

“He's exaggerating too much. Lucas, his cousin, currently takes his place for a moment only until Erskine gets its clients back. His job is nothing more than restoring public confidence in Erskine. When it starts to recover, Harry will return to the office.”

“Fine then. I hope everything goes well.” Niall smiled, “I should go now. Thank you for the lunch.”

“You don't wanna stay for dinner?”

“Ah, thank you. But, I have to go back to Surrey tomorrow morning.”

Y/N nodded in understanding, then escorted him out and waited until his car left her cottage. A small smile on her lips faded when she turned around – finding her boyfriend standing just a few feet away. The man was just silent while staring at her, his eyes sharp made her shudder.

“Harry?” mumbled her, taking a few step forward carefully. Her eyes were still staring at him who hadn't respond. Her heart rumbling, was it Marcel in front of her right now?

“Mar–”

“You invited him on purpose, why?”

Y/N froze. Did Harry hear her conversation with Niall? Since when was he standing there?

She wanted to lie, but if she did, Harry would be furious at her. His cold voice indicated that he didn't like what he has accused of her. And she had no choice.

“I talked to him about your session. And he told me he was in Leeds and would come over if he had time.” she said, “And then he came over. So, I assumed he had spare time.”

“And you lied to me.”

“I have no intention of lying to you, H.” she pleaded, “I was just asking for an advice and he offered to help, by coming over.”

She wasn't lying but that wasn't the truth.. her inner goddess facepalmed.

Harry snickered, shaking his head, “Don't lie to me.”

“H..”

“What are you hiding from me?!”

She paused her step when Harry shouted at her. Her heart was beating wildly yet he still dared to look into his eyes. She wasn't sure, was this Harry or Marcel?His irises were still bright like Harry's, but suddenly darkened a second later – before brightened again.

“I'm not hiding anything from you.” whispered her, “Don't you trust me?”

A deep frown formed on the forehead when Harry was laughing, shaking his head like she just told him something funny. But, what came out of his mouth struck her.

“How can I trust you if you lie to me? What's your intention brought Niall here? Trying to give me a ted talk and tell me everything is gonna be okay?! Bullshit, Y/N! All is not well.”

His loud yelling made her shrink and it was depressing. It might not be good for her to lie to her boyfriend but she did it for his good. She just wanted him to recover and stay positive through the problems.

“Harry, can you lower your voice, please? I don't want Anne to hear." she begged, "I'm sorry if you don't feel that way and I don't understand how you feel. But, this isn't the end. Soon, you'll be free. Victoria had been arrested, and the case still running while they hunt Dale down. Once he's caught, everything will slowly return to normal."

Taking a step closer, Y/N placed her palm on his bicep – stroking the tense muscle, trying to ease him. “At least your anger and resentment will pay off.”

Harry roughly brushed her hand away, looking at her sarcastically then left her alone.

“Don't repeat that bullshit again," he scoffed from the dining room, "How will everything be all right? You don't know how hard it is to grow trust. Not everything will be. Maybe for you, but not for me. Everything won't be the same."

“Harry,” she walked to him who was standing by the sliding door, looking through a glass the like across them, “We'll go through this together. If everything will no longer be the same, we'll face it together. And I believe, good fortune will be on our side.”

Y/N thought Harry heard her when he didn't argue. Yet, she was wrong when the man smirked at her. He turned his body to face her with his eyes gazed at her so scornful.

“How many times have I told you, how can I trust you after you lied to me about that fucking doctor?”

“HOW CAN!?”

She flinched when his loud voice rang in her ears, reflexively kept her head away from him. She didn't lie when she felt like wanted to cry. This was the first time Harry screamed at her after a long time. The feelings of worry and disappointment stirred in her heart.

“How can I trust you when you have another intention with that fucking psychiatrist?! How can I trust you after you made my directors agreed to have Lucas as your new boss and kicked me out of my own company?!” he screeched, “How can I trust anyone when they can betray me?!”

“How could you say that?" her voice trembled, "I don't kick you out from your own company. We all know Lucas is just for clout. You still hold the highest position, and the most important one."

“You know very well I hate a liar, Y/N.” he rolled his eyes, “I can't just believe what you say while you keep a lot of things to hide. I don't know as much and as important as how much you cover up. I can't believe with people around me just like that.” he growled, “Everyone always put on a mask before it finally disappointed me.”

“I don't hide anything from you! Why are you doubting me, H?" she cried out, "If I lie or was pretending in front of you, why am I always beside you? Don't you think I'm not tired? I'm exhausted! I'm exhausted of all these problems!" her panting breath suffocated her, "Who's not tired of dealing with problems of someone disordered?"

Harry clenched his teeth, “Watch your mouth, Y/N. You can't carelessly call me abnormal.”

“I don't call you abnormal? You're just.. different.”

“And now you're just lying to me.”

“Harry?” she looked at him shocked, “I'm not lying to–”

“Yes, you're. You just called me abnormal, different, someone with disordered and won't admit it. What's the difference between abnormal, different, and disordered?"

“Don't twist my words, Harry..”

“Fucking liar!” He violently hit the glass door until she could feel the vibration, her breath caught off when he leaned forward – staring at her coldly while his raged breath kissed her skin. She noticed his pupils were dilated and irises grew darker with face reddened with anger. Was Harry so annoyed with her?

“I'm not fucking liar!" she shook her head, "Stop accusing me of being a liar!"

“Then, what's the right nickname for you?” he challenged, “A fucking slut?”

Hearing your significant other uttered something that you never imagined before, of course it would break your heart. Y/N had never thought before her Harry would shatter her feelings – her heart. Especially she was aware enough it was really him who said that, not another one. When the rude nickname slid out of his mouth, she looked him in disbelief. The way her eyes flashed how upset she was, her breath was short as if there was something suffocated her.

“Excuse me, Harry?” her voice was low, “A slut? Really? What do you mean by that?”

“What other nicknames suits you if you don't want to–”

“I'm not a fucking slut!”

This was the first time, and Y/N hoped would be the last time, she raised her voice in front of Harry. They would never yell at each other if they got into a small argument. For Harry himself, it was no secret he had shouted in her face, well it was Marcel actually, but what he just said was completely out of his own soul. Somehow if he was annoyed and uncomfortable, everything would look wrong for him. Even if he could be honest, he thought this holiday was useless since that made it difficult for him to monitor his company, and all of the problem he had.

“What's better than slut for someone moaned another man's name when she had sex with her boyfriend?" he laughed derisively, his eyes refused to look at his girlfriend who saw him with a dropped jaw.

“Are you fucking mental, Harry? When did I ever do that?" she gritted her teeth, "Don't make up something that–"

“Marcel was laughing at me after that night. He's always bragging how he could make you moan his name.”

It was like being thrown to the bottom of the ocean when Harry muttered something she never expected. She was dizzy, she felt she couldn't breathe. The nape of her neck was hot, her tongue locked leaving her speechless. She never found out Harry knew the accident that night, in which they were – or she and Marcel, drunk and ended up taking off each other's clothes, – and you knew what happened the rest. In her mind, he never remembered it since he was drunk and never brought it up later.

“And you just realised it, Y/N?” he tilted his head with the look in his eyes was piercing through her heart, “You don't know how disgusting it was to see you fucking him, Y/N.”

“And now tell me..” his chest panted, “WHAT'S MORE FITTED ON YOU THAN A SLUT!?”

His voice boomed around the cottage making Y/N turned her head away. She could feel the flames of rage roiling within him, and she wasn't brave enough to go any further. Her heart pained by the way he called her, but she realised that Harry was hiding his pain and pretended that he didn't know that his lover was having sex with another man.

“Harry, we were drunk that night and–”

“And you realised that he wasn't me, didn't you? And yet you still let him fucked you.” he scoffed, “You were aware he's Marcel, Y/N.”

“I– ”

Harry turned his body, his hands crossed on his chest. And at that time, Y/N wanted to cry because she couldn't recognise the eyes was staring at her. No, not whose eyes they belonged to. But, the way he was looking at her like she was a trash.

“Or maybe you enjoyed being fucked by Marcel?”

“Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–”

Her trembling voice was refuted by him who looked so done, "You don't know the feeling. My heart broke to see you did that but on the other hand I couldn't do anything. I am sick of being helpless when something that should be mine is being used by others."

“Now, tell me, Y/N. What would you feel if you were me?”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes were squinting. No, she couldn't imagine it. She couldn't imagine it because she didn't want her heart break. She couldn't imagine the disappointment she had to accept.

“Why, Y/N? Why did you do it? Why did you let it happen?”

She shuddered, his whisper right in her ear made the goosebumps appeared on her skin. She could feel how close his face was to her right now albeit her eyes still shut closed, refusing to look at his eyes. She couldn't bear the eyes of someone who disappointed with her.

“Do you want him instead?”

“TELL ME!”

With the blink of an eye, Harry grabbed her hand and pushed her down to the floor, sending her squeezed into the corner of the kitchen. His rough behaviour once again made her frozen in place, never in her head she thought he could rude to him. And this was Harry, not Marcel.

His slow steps took him to the woman who was curled in the corner. She gulped harshly when he squatted in front of her. She couldn't make a sound, her adrenaline was racing, her heart was pounding with fear. She felt like a lonely deer ready to be pounced on by a hungry tiger.

“How could I trust someone who lied to me?” he worked his jaw, “And the most pathetic thing is, she's someone who's important. But, she played me with lies and bullshit.”

“I'm not, H..” her voice quaked, “I'm not lying anything. And for Marcel incident, I couldn't say how wrong I was.”

“You know I don't like liars and traitors, Y/N. We've talked about this before. I even entrusted my big secret to you but this is what I got?” his voice was cold, sharp and heart-wrenching, “You have no idea how disgusted I am for thinking my girlfriend fucking someone. And both of them seemed enjoyed it so much.”

“Harry..” she began to sob, “I don't mean that way..”

He got up, walking away from her. With a huff, he paced back and forth in front of her. For a moment, he rubbed his face before shaking his head with a chuckle. She cautiously watching him carefully, she didn't dare enough to move from there since her body becoming numb.

“We both knew we enjoyed that night, darling.”

She had never turned her head this fast, staring at him who suddenly was standing in front of her. Oddly enough, he was smiling at her. Smiling like he wasn't mad at her like a few moments ago. And now, she recognises the pair of eyes that always haunted her nightmare. She saw Marcel there, smiling sickly at her.

“What do you want, Marcel?" she growled at her, muster up the courage to confront the creator of all these messes, "Don't you feel enough? Don't you feel enough to ruin Harry's life? My life?"

“Oh, darling.” he cooed sweetly, “He was very upset. He was crying because he couldn't stop me and saw with his own eyes how much you enjoyed our sex.”

“I was drunk, Marcel.”

“I'm aware. But, whose name did you moan that night? Harry or me?” he smirked, “I'm flattered that you knew I was there and still let me made you orgasm.”

“Stop it, Marcel.”

“Why? I'm talking the truth, am I?” he arched an eyebrow, “You have no idea how much I missed the feeling of your skin on me. Can we do that again? And maybe give Harry a little show?”

Y/N didn't think twice as she stood up to attack Marcel. She didn't care that the person in front of her now shared the same body as Harry. All she wanted was to punch Marcel. But, he quickly stepped back before turning his body away.

“No! Go away, Marcel.”

She heard he was talking to Marcel. Was this Harry talking to Marcel?

“Stop!”

He grabbed his own hair with knees fell to the floor. He grimaced, as if in pain, with his fingers still tangled between the roots – pulling them harder. Y/N hesitated. What should she do? Should she approached him or keeping the distance?

Because what she was paying attention to at this time, Harry was trying to prevent Marcel from taking over. His hoarse voice repeatedly saying no to the person who tried to control his mind.

Yet, everything went silent when no more sound came out of his mouth. Only their ragged breath filled the open air. Y/N still huddled in the corner while Harry still backing her. She thought this was the right moment for her to approach him. She got up and took her steps painfully slow, hand reached out to touch her boyfriend's arm. Her heart was pounding so heart like she could hear them clearly in her ear, cold sweat pouring down her neck like she was about to experience something. Everything was so quiet, painfully quite that it scared her. Never once did she feel like this even when Marcel was around.

“Harry?”

Not for a second she landed her hand on his arm, the man quickly turned his body making her flinched. She didn't know why Harry scared her so much with the way he glared at her. She ventured back into touching him, but what happened next made her gasped – again. He pushed her again until she fell near the dining table, made her head hit the edge of the table. What's wrong with him?

“What's wrong with you?” she cried out, touching her temple which seemed to be swollen. Hell, she wanted to scream at him. She really understood his emotions were unstable but pushing her away wasn't something nice.

“Sometimes I think, maybe it was a mistake to let you knew my secret.” he murmured, eyes looking away from her, “At the end of the day, you would use that for your own good.”

“Pardon?”

“I trusted you with my secret. I trusted you with him. If I never told you about him, I would never see you were fucking with him!”

Harry thought everything would be fine if he pretended to know nothing. Yet, every time he thought about it, his chest was aching. Like something was giving him a pressure. The feeling of betrayal and guilt, always haunted his heart and mind. He felt betrayed by the two of them but it was all his fault. Who wouldn't get mad if their girlfriend betrayed him in such a thing like that?

“But, you're the one who chose to tell me, Harry! I never asked you. You told me you thought I was the right person to deserve your difference. You trusted me, Harry." she panted, "Let me ask you right now. Where's your trust in me? Why do I even think you don't trust me any more?"

“Don't you think I'm tired of all this? I'm tired of your erratic temper. With your emotions that I couldn't guess. I'm sick of you not being able to control yourself when I know you can! But, guess what? You chose to won't try.” she screamed, didn't care if Anne heard them upstairs. “Do you think it's easy to handle someone like you? Absolutely not! God was very kind to give me patience all of this time.”

“Now, I'm thinking. Maybe all this is God's way of repaying everything you've done. As Harry, or even Marcel.”

Harry didn't even need to think twice when he grabbed the nearest pitcher and threw it to her. Y/N couldn't even dodge it since it was so fast hitting her. She looked at him dead in the eye, not believing what had just happened. But the pain in her head seemed to make her realised that the man who was supposed to protect her, treated her harshly and didn't hesitate to hurt her.

She blinked her eye, trying to digest what just happened. Y/N didn't know how hard the pitcher hitting her head until it was shattered and hurt her. She felt the pain just after a drop of blood ran through her face. Then, she shifted her eyes to him. Harry. She couldn't trust her voice at this point, just giving him a look of disappointment and pain to him to understand. And for Harry, he was still had his eyes on her with a reddened face, jaw tightened and both fists were clenching tightly.

Both of them didn't say a word, just exchanged glances. Y/N didn't feel the pain, her adrenaline was racing so hard that she felt like he was numb.

“How many more times do you need to hurt me, Harry? Have you not realised all this time, the way you closed yourself for me is also hurting me? And do you realise that too makes me question your trust in me?” whispered her, “Tell me, H. How can we restore the trust and be optimistic about everything we face?”

Harry still had his mouth closed, eyes sharp on her. During the silence, Y/N felt the excruciating pain in her bloody head. But, she ignores it. She needed an answer from him, now.

“TELL ME!”

Harry was seeing red. No one ever tested his patience like this. Not his family. Not the company. Not even Marcel. Maybe Marcel would applaud him seeing he couldn't make peace with himself. After all, that was what Marcel wanted, right?

Hearing his girlfriend raised her voice at him, he felt she was insulting him. With jaw clenched tightly, he pulled her away before smashing her against the wall. Y/N felt her back and head hit the wall hard. She couldn't count the number of times her body being slammed, she was too busy trying to get Harry's hand off her and begging him mercy.

“This is what you've got for betrayed me.” Harry gritted his teeth, no longer slamming her body but hands still tightly gripped her hair, “Don't even test my patience if you can't handle it.”

“You're the one who tested my patience, Harry.” her breath stammered, her head was burning.

She cackled slightly, before coughing because her breath was shortened. Her eyes glanced slightly at Harry who still gripping her roots, “Do whatever you want, Harry. I can't stop you, can I?”

Everything went creepy silence along with Anne's deafening scream. She blinked softly, lolling her head towards her boyfriend. She didn't know why she was smiling like nothing happened. The last thing she knew, she smelt her own blood soaking her face as her breath slackened. . . Please excuse some errors Talk to me :)

[vegetacide]

TaG: Bloodlines (Part 11)

Veg �� notables: Still kicking...

As always TY @gumnut-logic and @scribbles97  cause they put up me invading their PM’s

Chapter 1|Previous Chapter | NEXT

Rating and General warning: Mature content head. If you are not a fan of medical issues of a female nature in relation to pregnancy please proceed with caution.

Characters: Virgil/Kayo.

E N J O Y

8-8-8

Part 11 - Pengalihan

Thunderbird Two banked around the crest of a hill to come across a scene of complete madness.  The red and blue lights of emergency vehicles flashed all around, people were scattered about in unorganized chaos and a couple of GDF troop carriers had just arrived and were off loading personnel and equipment.  In the middle of it all sat Thunderbird One, her long streamline haul gleaming in the bright utility lightings that were being used to light up the mining sites service area.  She was  cordoned off and guarded  by a row of black and whites that were doing their best to keep the gawkers back and out of the way.

Hitting the comms, Virgil brought Two to a hover some hundred meters up the rise. VTOLs blasting the hill side and flattening what little vegetation still remained among the scree and debris that had been dumped along the embankment.

“Thunderbird Two to Scott. On site,  you got a place for me to set down.”

“I see you Thunderbird Two and I’m working on it. Veer left ninety degrees.  Once those dozers have vacated you should have enough room to set down and plenty of room to work.”

Virgil looked to his left and watched several hard hats racing towards a group of parked dozers in a back lot just behind what looked like a collection of construction trailers. From his vantage point he could make out a clear line of sight to the mine shaft so getting pods to where they need to be wouldn’t be a problem.

“F.A.B,”  He adjusted Two’s altitude to kill some of the turbulence rushing down the hillside and kicking up dust down below.

“Wow, it’s a mess down there.” Gordon said from his copilot seat,  his nose almost plastered to the right view port.  “Who’s in charge of this mess?”

“No idea,  it’s a collaboration of a couple big construction firms last I heard. No wonder Scott is having a hard time of it.”

The chair next to him swiveled in his direction and Gordon pointed a thumb back over his shoulder. “You don’t seem all that surprised by this.”

He shrugged,  his eyes scanning over his controls and keeping an eye on the progress of the dozers below.  “Been keeping tabs on the progress on a few engineering sites. This project has had a lot of set back in recent months.  The other construction firm was brought in ahead of schedule in hopes that it would speed things up. .  Stupid idea if you ask me,  they were no where near ready for the extra crew.  No way they could keep proper safety measures in place with these extra bodies in play.”

One of the many downfalls to projects of this nature. The money behind it all wanted results and their quarterly statement to be in the black. There were a lot of funds riding on the transcontinental transport tunnel that was going to bridge the gap between the Western tip of Russia through the Diomed Island chain and across to the Eastern end of the Alaskan land bridge.

It was a daring venture to say least.  The Bering strait was rough on the best of days,  trying to construct a tunnel system some fifty odd meters down in a sedimentary trench deep enough to hit bedrock was anything but easy.   An engineering feat of epic and mind blowing proportions.  If they could accomplish it,  the implications on commerce would be huge and add a whole new avenue for transporting goods from one end of the world to the other.

Top that with the latest in maglev rail systems and it would revolutionize the shipping industry.  Run with robotics and minimal manpower in transit,  low impact on the ecosystem once fully implemented and someone was going to be sitting pretty on a pile of cash.  That was of course if they could get it built.

One delay after another had plagued the project from the get go. From faulty equipment,  personnel issues and bad timing with the weather.  Now it seemed something had failed in a big way and from what little information John had been able to provide on route, there may or may not be upwards of forty six workers trapped down the this access shaft.

Securing Two, Virgil swung about and signaled to Gordon to follow.  Passing through the bulkhead they made their way to the pod bay, Two starting to rise up on her struts as soon as they had cleared the reinforced doors.  The hull beneath his feet rumbled as she trundled upwards but he paid it little attention,  pod assembly first and foremost on his mind.

“Grab a medkits and blankets and a couple backer boards,  we have no idea what we are heading into.”

‘Got ya,” Gordon nodded, already heading to the supply area at the back of the bay.  “Think John or Scott have any new info yet.”

Distracted by the controls in front of him, Virgil shrugged non-committedly. “Your guess is as good as mine.  Comms down the shaft seem to be fried and John was having a tough time getting thermal readings. Too many metallurgical components in the surrounding sediment are throwing his readings off.  We’ll have to take our own scans while we are down there."

“You think that will work?”  Gordon’s voice carried back through the bay.

The heavy assembly system kicked into life.  Not knowing what they were walking into, he decided against the track system and went right for the bifurcated spider legs and traction gear.  He just hoped that that tunnel wasn’t flooded, thought the pods could easily handle it.

He eyed his exo-suit a moment and with the easy brush of a finger on the console it unlocked from its loading bay.  Another quick flick and it was loaded up on the back of the pod.  Better to have it and not need it.

Task completed, he turned to give Gordon a hand with the gear.  “Ya,  it should as long as the tunnel hasn’t been too compromised and isn’t flooded we shouldn't have an issue.”

Gear stowed away, they climbed aboard the pod and without further adieu the heavy blast door of the pod compartment rolled up and out of the way.

The scene outside hadn’t changed much in the few moments it had taken them gear up and unload.  People were still scattered about but now the GDF was corralling them into groups further back from the shaft entrance.  Several bulky shapes of GDF flyers were circling above, kicking up loose debris as they chased off news droids that had invaded the DZ airspace.

Thumbing his comms, Virgil signaled to Scott and his figure appeared out the mess of suited and uniformed people crowded near One.

He didn’t look pleased to say the least, the crease between his eyes evident even from a distance.  His long legs ate up the distance, the GDF that appeared behind him forming a blockade to keep the riff raff at bay.

Virgil popped the canopy,   the plexi-shielding swinging up.  He squinted and grabbed his helmet as the one of the flyers came close, its Vtol downdraft warm and swirling up dust.

“Scott,”  He nodded with a grunt as he swung down out of the pod,  his heavy soled boots thumping.  “We got a sit-rep yet?  John was surprisingly vague.”

“Not intentionally.”  John’s voice crackled through the comms in his ear.  Virgil wasn’t surprised his brother had been listening in and his early words hadn’t been meant as a slight though he knew John wouldn’t take it that way.

“For a construction project this big you would think they would be more organized..” Scott huffed skidding to a halt, his eyes doing a quick scan over the gear that was assembled. “We’re getting contradicting accounts of what happened.   Some say there was a section collapse.  Others, an explosion of unknown origin.  I’ve taken some preliminary scans but the results are inconclusive.  All I know is there is a pocket down there about hundred and fifty feet down the shaft that’s blocked off.”

“Signs of life?”

Bringing up the scan details on his wrist comm, Scott pointed out the area in questions. “Audio’s picked up tapping.  Standard Morse Code but it stopped about twenty minutes ago.”

That wasn’t a good sign. “Number of missing still the same?”

“I’m waiting for confirmation.  More came up the shaft after the initial count.  Visibility is poor down there so we’ve had some stragglers.”

“Take the pod down, check the integrity and see if you can get further signs of life. I’m going to try and get the story up here and a firm headcount.  I’ll also relay info up to John. Comms in the mine are sketchy at best so line of sight is required.” 

“F.A.B.”

Eyes track the movement of the spider legged pod as it crossed the compound.  The machine was a wonder and from what he could see from his vantage point the interior of the pod bay it had departed from was no different.

The technology was revolutionary in innovation and design. International Rescue reputation was well warranted in that regard and he could see why his employer would be so obsessed with them though he knew there was an underlying darkness to the obsession.  He’d seen it himself a time or two.  Disposing of the remnants of whomever it was that crossed his path.

It was a thankless job but he was paid well for his efforts and his well financed employer never skimped.

Slipping between two of the many supply shipping containers that dotted one side of the service area,  he obscured himself in shadow.  Away from the hubbub and chaos of people darting to and fro there was little chance he would be spotted.  The GDF were too entangled in their own task of trying to bring some sort of order to the situation to take notice of one solitary figure.

He’d snuck around easy enough before the evacuation order had been announced. After the noisy blast of a  horn in triplicate it was as if he was invisible. The contradictory rally points purposely imposed and uncorrected making the ensuing tangle of people the perfect cover for him to slip in amongst the moving mass of bodies.

His counterpart had been waiting for him, standing off to the side and obviously not one of the many clambering workers with his pristine coiffed hair and tailored pants. The dirty hard toes boots a decidedly tacky but necessary accompaniment to his apparel.

The acknowledgement of the others presence  was simple and took but a second of eye contact and a briefest of nods. His associate then easily donned the façade of a simpering idiot  and joined the hurried workers. Disappearing as the first thundering roar of rescue entered the scene.

The man truly was an idiot though so slipping in to the role he was to play was only natural.  He really had no idea how much he was being manipulated. Every action, one his employer had direct,  every reaction one that was completely expected.

The association with the billionaire inventor was just one part of the puzzle, a naïve one at that as the twit had no idea who was really behind all the careful planning.  Planning that had been meticulously cultivated over the last several months so that all the players would be exactly where they needed to be at precisely the right time.

He knew exactly how important this next stage of the plan was and there was  the real threat of cold steel at his neck and an unmarked grave in his future if things didn’t go the way his employer envisioned.  Not an appealing end to his career to say the least.

Billionaire dealt with, he returned his steely gaze to the task at hand. Tracing the path the pod had taken he watched as the canopy opened and one of his targets hopped down, followed shortly thereafter by another and a greeting of sorts took place between them and a third.   He knew as much as his employer would divulge about the ongoing grudge with the first responders though he cared very little about the true nature behind it.

He was being paid handsomely for his work and the bonus of screwing over that family was rather appealing.  Taking them down a peg or two was something he had wanted to do from the first time he’d met them.

Further pondering though would have to wait for a more appropriate time as he had a task to complete.  Part one of the plan had gone without a hitch and the true responsible party’s identity was safely out of sight.

It was only a matter of time before their patsy’s involvement would be discovered.  He was a well known man after all. Infamously so when it came to International Rescue and he wouldn’t be able to hide in the crowd for long. His reputation for failure in his chosen field was well known and his employer had made sure that his ineptitude was something that couldn’t  be missed. Use of him as a distraction in the past had already proven rather successful in aid deflecting from their true goals and there was no doubt that he would be again.

He himself was a part in the grand scheme and he took a certain amount of pride in the subterfuge his involvement had incurred.  The Tracy family really had no clue. 

Leaning on the shipping container,  he zeroed in on the sudden bustle of organized activity.   It appeared things were moving again as two of the brothers hustled back into the pod and it started moving towards the mouth of the shaft.

Palming a small, encrypted communication device he quickly activated it.  “Targets on site and entering shaft.  Phase two is a go.”  

Message sent, he snapped the device in two and tossed it over his shoulder into the brush. His thick padded work jacket and mining helmet soon followed.  Straightening he did one final check of his GDF Blues  and stepped out  into the harsh halogen brightness of the industrial lights.;

8-8-8

TBC

Chapter 1 |Previous Chapter | NEXT

[naomixhill]

“Aren’t you the one who got expelled from DeSales?” These were the first words that you said to me as you approached me at David’s bonfire in 2011. We were seventeen years old. A group of us came here after a Friday night football game. There were a handful of neighborhoods in our village, perhaps five important ones, but the one we were in that night was the best – the one where sophistication meets elegance meets English-inspired architecture. There was a twenty-seven Jack Nicklaus golf course in front of David’s home. Inside the house was a grand reception room, medium sized ballroom, martini parlor, two dueling libraries, a small art gallery, and a wine cellar. Throughout the home, opulence of the tenth degree: marble floors and 18’ high ceilings and two servants. Just beyond where I was sitting, there was a heated pool, veranda, and small tennis court. Jews get everything. This whole village was Jews, new money snobs, and plastic surgery. But I never minded.

 You repeated the question, “Hellooooo, Naomi, right?” I looked up at you with red, glossy eyes. I was stoned, and David’s two servants had been serving Cabernet since we got there. I smirked, raised my head at you, and said, “Who’s asking?” You extended your hand and introduced yourself with the charismatic, all consuming smile that I would one day become familiar. I did not return the warm reception; I had a magical sadness about me that year that began with the death of my rapist and ended with my name being the topic of more than one scandal. I hardly remember much of the year at all, but I remember meeting you there that night. In That Place.

 You acted like you were meeting a celebrity. You mentioned a few of the rumors that spread around DeSales about me, most of which were incredibly true, and I told you that night, “It doesn’t matter what people say about you unless you believe it.” You told me that you had just transferred to the village school and that you were incredibly lucky: You lived in a modest home on the edge of town that had not been seized by Wexner for further construction of his brick empire. I was completely awestricken by you. You were so bold, so empowered to speak truth, so nonchalant in the way you spoke, and had this magnetic flowerchild persona. If it hadn’t been for you that night, I would have drank alone at the firepit of David’s home. It was true that I was still frequently invited to events that year and next, but I was never really one of these people and I always remained on the outskirts of parties and social gatherings. When the night ended, I told you not to talk to me again. You needed a fighting chance to assimilate in this odd, wealthy village school that was more reminiscent of an episode of Gossip Girl than a place in Ohio. You were never going to get that if you associated with me.

                                                       ~

We reconnected in February 2014. It was a historically brutal winter in Ohio, frequently closing down the university, and I was frailer at 106 lbs, more contemplative, and battling an autoimmune disorder that was so severe that I was sure it would have killed me. Looking back on it now, there is no doubt in my mind that your antithesis to everything that I was saved me. From the moment we reconnected, there was rarely a moment that we were apart. Every morning, you held back my hair as I spent the morning vomiting into a dormitory toilet. When I would try to crawl back into bed, you would force me into a warm bath, lay out clothes for me, and often blow-dry my hair when I was too weak to do so myself. Without fail, and for the entire semester, you would walk me to the cafeteria, watch me eat breakfast, and we would undoubtedly end up back on the bathroom floor for several more hours. But you’d still make sure that I attended my afternoon classes, even if that meant sitting on the business halls’ floors in effort to see that I didn’t leave. You were the only person who knew how bad my health had gotten that year.

 Because to everyone else, I was confident and had accomplished in my studies precisely what I had in my social circle of business students—complete mastery, complete command. I was fastidious, wearing almost exclusively Brooks Brothers button downs that tucked into dark colored slacks or designer jeans, and carried myself with an air of superiority that few ever questioned. In school and in the finance society, I was the best. I maintained a portfolio of investments that had achieved a 56% return that year, and when I shared my opinion on what our club should be investing in, I was rarely wrong. It awed some, and frustrated many male egos that couldn’t understand it. I was an excellent financial analyst to be, interviewing at several bulge bracket investment banks in New York and Chicago that year. And when anyone questioned me or alluded that I couldn’t possibly being doing as well as I was, I would raise my prominent nose nostrils at them and say nothing at all.

 I didn’t dress, walk, talk, or play like other college students did. I was incredibly aloof and malicious, whereas you were a never-ending ray of sunshine. You were bohemian and buoyant and wise all wrapped into a blonde package of beauty. My persona was much more overpowering and chilling. Yet, you liked me, and you held my secret, and no one ever questioned why you—the special education major—were in the business hall at 2 pm, 4 pm, 8 pm, and 10 pm everyday. In fact, most of my companions that year really preferred you to me and it was often a relief to have you there as a shield.

 In the summer of 2015, we moved into an off campus apartment in what would be considered the Chinatown of Columbus, Ohio. With my full-time job in financial services and lucrative investments from the prior year, I had tried to convince you to live downtown in a high-rise apartment, but you wouldn’t have it. You always wanted to pay your own way, and Chinatown was what you could afford. So we lived there with Ethan Allen furniture, your bohemian nonsensical decorations, including a plethora of crystals, bags of cannabis, and music posters. By the end of the summer, I was showing signs of recovery, though the months of medical bills had put me in a tougher spot financially than before. I was still able to casually pay our rent and fixed expenses, afford food, and pay my own tuition without much concern. Though it was in September that everything changed.

 You worked at a Bob Evan’s right behind the university that summer to save for college, but you had racked up $17,000 on a credit card that was accruing monthly interest. You wanted to save, but you were forced to pay that down and there was never an expense that you met that you didn’t like. It has always been who you are: you spend too much on others, too much on holiday decorations, too much on latest clothing styles, too much online, too much on fast food, just too much. So even though you worked your sixty hours a week until that political bill made everyone like you work thirty-seven and a half hours and not a moment more, you couldn’t make tuition. And I couldn’t help you.

 I remember one night we were in Cincinnati for a Cal Scruby concert when the idea came to me. I said, “There are a lot of girls in Pi Phi that I know that use this escort site to make fast cash, and you are much prettier and have a much better personality.” So while we waited for the concert to begin, we turned the Marriott hotel room into a glamorous studio for photos, and wrote you a descriptive, alluring profile on that website. Looking back on this now, I am not sure what I was thinking except that it seemed like a perfectly sensible thing to do, and everyone else was doing it. An older, established Cleveland man solicited you within the hour. You planned to meet him later that week. A thousand dollars just like that.

 But that fateful morning, you confessed that you couldn’t do it. And I knew then that if you didn’t return to school that semester, you might never. And I thought about your credit card debt, your newly broken down car, and your ambitions slipping away from you. And I couldn’t let you, the brilliant bohemian with so much to offer to the world, possibly lose it all that easily. So I knew what this all meant for me, but the way I saw it, and still see it, is that it was the least I could do for the person who likely saved my life. So I became you: I went to a hair salon that day and dyed my harsh, almost black hair, to bleach blonde; I bought extensions; I bought baby blue eye contacts; I used makeup to manipulate a small mole on my cheek; I contoured my face, used drugstore eyelashes, and it was convincing enough. That night, I wore a pink kimono with ripped jeans and pale high heels. I wasn’t nearly as tall as you, but I hoped our Cleveland man wouldn’t notice. And he didn’t. And that was that.

 These visits continued twelve times, and we never spoke about them. It was our next big secret, and one I never planned to mention them to a soul. Your fall tuition was paid and I was relatively healthy, and we had our oasis in Chinatown. Everything was finally alright, it seemed, until December.

 There was only one problem: That Piece of Shit Heroin Addict. Back in the summer before the school year began, you had met Josiah. Perhaps it was my jealously of losing part of you, but I never took to him. You could have had any of my friends majoring in finance – we both know that they all loved you, and could have given you the life you wanted – but you chose him. I am certain that your biggest flaw has always been loving flawed people and thinking that you could positively influence the outcome of their lives’ through love and belief alone. Josiah was everything that I loathed about a person: he was uncouth to a fault, sported a horribly unkempt appearance with long, blonde, greasy and tangled hair, had terribly patchy facial hair, had lightly yellowed teeth from years of smoking and drug abuse. Best of all, he drove a sports car. His family was from the neighboring county, and in Ohio, if you don’t live in the capital county, you might as well live in the middle of a fucking farm wasteland infested with heroin, blue-collar jobs, and Mountain Dew.

 I tolerated this boy in the summer because you loved him. But it worried me when you would come home at 3 a.m. with him and his cronies, and they would all end up sprawled out on the floor of our apartment. These people were not good enough for you, and they brought you down with them. I would have done anything to better myself that year—I associated myself with the most elite people our university could offer, all of whom today ended up becoming prominent investment bankers and private equity directors, some traveling internationally, some making over half a million dollars annually – but you always found yourself attracted to the bottom.

 He manipulated you. He told you lies about me, and made you think differently about me. He fed you drugs. He sedated your sunshine and stole your youth. And then in December, he convinced you that I was nothing more than a haughty, arrogant, self-serving person, which perhaps was right to some degree, but never with you, and that you needed to leave. So one night in December, when I was traveling, you stole everything out of our apartment – right down to the kitchen table and bath curtains – and left me to come home to nothing. You never returned my calls or texts, and it was more than a year before I ever got an explanation.

You went from my fascination to my friend to my caregiver to my roommate and best friend to my deepest regret.

 In fact, for the next six years, you tried to contact me sporadically, pleading for forgiveness, but there was nothing that I could offer you. At times, you would comment on my life events that you could see through social media. You told me how happy I looked in my wedding photos, but little did you know for those four years that I was getting beaten, evens sometimes being held at gunpoint, literally; you told me how successful I had become from my work, but little did you know that I was facing more than one harassment suit; you would tell me you were happy that my life had become so wonderful, but you had no idea that at the very time you sent that, that I was sitting in a hospital waiting to be radiated for cervix cancer. And through all of it, I thought of you frequently, sometimes spitefully, sometimes with more regret than a person can carry, sometimes with fondness.

                                                        ~

But I never returned any of your correspondence until last week. And now, here we are at a Panera in a rundown suburb, and I am staring right at you. The passage of time has not been your friend: you wear bold framed glasses that remind me of Buddy Holly. Pregnancy has turned your beautiful blonde hair into an ashy brown shade and your long, cascading curls have been cut into curly short strands. You have gained perhaps thirty or forty pounds, hidden under a large, flowing hippy blouse – so that has remained, your style.

 When I approach you, you throw your arms around me for what feels like an eternity. I had planned to dig into you; I had wanted you to feel the internal war that has been raging inside of me since your departure. But I can’t do it. As you pull away from our embrace, you try to speak but your lower lip trembles. Your eyes are red and strained and you weep as you grab for my hand. People around us begin to stare, but my sole focus is on you. I suppose it always has been. You begin a long soliloquy of apology, that at times is so incoherent and sincere, I can only help but think that this has eaten away at you for as long as it has me. So I don’t chide you for abandoning me, I simply smile and say, “I Forgive You.”

 As we catch up, it seems our friendship is a marker in time for you much like it is for me. There was before you, you, and after you. Your “after you” is dark – things have been much harder for you for the past six years than they have for me. One unplanned pregnancy, another planned pregnancy, multiple lost jobs, government assistance, an alcoholic partner, and death threats galore. It is hard to imagine the young bohemian that I once knew has achieved such a disappointing life. You never finished college and you work as a PSA in a hospital. You mentioned repeatedly how tired you are, and I see you: it’s a spiritual exhaustion that knows no bounds. It is the type of exhaustion that one can only feel when they have done nothing that they set out to do in life. I am familiar.

 I often take your hand in mine. We talk until the Panera closes, and then promise to meet again soon.

[webuyhousesfastllc]

Selling Your House Fast using the “Subject To” Method

By: The Massachusetts Home Buyers LLC

Why would anyone want to sell their home via subject to financing? Aren’t their major risks associated with such undertaken? What if the buyer flakes and defaults on the note? This situation alone would be enough to deter any homeowner from selling their home in such a way as relying on another stranger to pay their mortgage. Worst of all, your credit score would take a significant hit alongside many other financial hardships. On the contrary, everything could also, too, go as planned with the mortgage getting paid down and your credit score gradually increasing.

Today, most FSBO’s shy away from such creative deal structuring due to one major issue, LACK OF KNOWLEDGE!

That’s right! A recent poll taken by The Massachusetts Home Buyers LLC had determined this issue among a survey selection of 50 FSBO’s who were either currently selling or planning to sell their homes very soon. The survey showed us that out of the 50 FSBO’s, on a professional critique level, 42 within the sample of 50 would have benefited more from a subject to deal than a traditional one-time closing. Out of the 50 FSBO’s 48 had no idea what it was and why it is used.

Why would a homeowner sell their home via subject to their existing mortgage?

Let’s start with the real-life story of Peggy Labate of Massachusetts. Peggy had lost her job Do tour company going to economic trouble. She then began facing the possibility of her home going into foreclosure, Putting her in a particularly dire financial situation. Peggy owed a total of $74,000 on her note for her home. This put her at an astonishing $12,000 in the hole.

She had an investor interested in a property, however, He did not actually have the full $74,000 needed for the sake of purchasing the property. Instead, the two of them worked out a compromise that would work for everyone. The compromise consisted of the following: He would purchase the property in such a way that he was subject to the existing mortgage payments per month. If agreed upon, Peggy will no longer have the monthly payment mortgage burden because the investor will be taking over her payments. Peggy then was able to make the sale work and avoid a disastrous credit hit by foreclosure. She barely had any money for food for that week, nevermind a mortgage payment. She was also able to sell the home within 2-3 business days following the agreement. YES! It was that easy.

In other parts of the country subject to the existing mortgage now has become quite popular among for sale by owners. Especially in post Covid era, selling subject to deals have increasingly spread. Especially in areas where unemployment has increased drastically.

Furthermore, most people don’t have the time in today’s world to even market the property by themselves. Additionally, they are not adapt to marketing, interviewing potential buyers, and credit analysis as Massachusetts license representatives are trained for. But why pay commission when you can simply pass your mortgage bill over to a investor who will take over the payments as well as put some money on the sellers pocket.

Another example was Hank. Hank was upside down on his mortgage because he bought right before the 2008 crash. The homes value dropped significantly but was able to almost break even in 2021. Let's look at Hanks predicament below

Home cost 2005: $320,000.00

Mortgage note: $335,000.00

POST CRASH

Home cost 2009: $245,000.00

Mortgage note Current 2009: $315,500.00

Present 2021

Home cost 2021: $285,500

Current note Balance: $295,000

Since Hank lost his job due to the COVID-19 virus, he is now finding it hard to pay for every day expenses and his mortgage. Therefore he’s in a little predicament. A friend of his told him “to suck it up and pay up to $10,000 and be done with it already”, but Hank doesn't have the $10,000 to come out of pocket. Plus, Hank is thinking “who actually sells a home to lose money?”. The plot thickens as the days go by and his bills pile up he is now three months behind on his mortgage and his banks are calling leaving messages on his voicemail. His monthly mortgage PITI is at $1,250.00. Thus, on top of all the other bills, as well as the $10,000 he will need to pay out-of-pocket if he wanted to sell, he is now behind approximately three months and four days owing a whopping $4,200.00 (includes late payments). The home is getting close to breaking even, and he has pre-permitted lot space to extend the square footage of his home. He was told by an investor he could add another 1000 to 1500 sqft to his home. Although costs would range anywhere between $68,000 to $80,000, it would bring his home value from $285,000 to $390,000. Additionally, if he were to add another a bathroom and a half in this addition, the after renovations value would be anywhere between $415,000 to $425,000. Unfortunately, Hank did not have the funds, which would probably be anywhere between $110-$120,000 to do such work, even though the value add would be $200,000 to $215,000. What is Hank going to do.

Hank is definitely stressed out!

Hank is now slipping into foreclosure and is getting unrealistic to almost cruel advice. Until one day he found an ad in his local paper from The Massachusetts Home Buyers LLC.

Hank called The Massachusetts Home Buyers LLC and told him his predicament. Hank began his conversation by saying, “ Look, I know you can’t help me in my situation but maybe you can give me some advice?”, the investor from The Massachusetts Home Buyers LLC laughed and calmly said “ Well hello, my name is Gary, Whats yours?”. Hank forgetting his manners backed up his excitement and said with a sigh, “My apologies, Hank here”. The caller than asked Hank to fill him in on what’s going on. At the end of the conversation, the investor asked to visit the property and take a look at the permits that were once pulled by Hank that he never utilized back before the crash.

Although the permits had become null and void, the investor knew the area very well as well as the permitting process for building additions. The Massachusetts Home Buyers LLC are constantly scrutinizing and investigating the housing market and its bylaws. At the end of the walkthrough the investor suprised Hank with a deal that almost had him fall to the ground. The deal, according to Hank was pure genius.

The deal looked like this:

First, Hank will transfer title to the property over to the Massachusetts Home Buyers LLC.

Instead of paying out of pocket, the investor offered him $20,000 cash in pocket for the transfer of title.

The Mass Home Buyers LLC would bring an additional $6,000.00 for closing expenses incurred and pay up the missed payments of $4,500.00 to the bank.

The Massachusetts Home Buyers LLC would then own the home, however, Hank would need to leave his mortgage untouched and in place.

To lessen Hank’s anxiety, Hank and the investor called his lender on a three-way call to explain the transaction. Strangely, the lender knew the investor by the first name. Hank knew he was dealing with professionals. The investor kindly told the lender about Hanks's situation and that he offered him the title in exchange for paying off the back payments as well as take over his note as-is. The lender said, “ Ok, Gary, so you want to subject to the existing note and make payments on Mr. Hanks 30 year fixed?” The investor replied, “yes, Sir.” The lender asked, “ok, that's fine; when do you think it will transfer or be paid in full?” The investor said calmly, “I don’t know now; however, you will be the first to know when we do so.” The lender stated, “fair enough- ok, we are good, no static on this end.” Hank had heard about the dreaded due on sale clauses and was just relieved. Besides, the investor boldly asked the lender to keep the mortgage under Hank's name; however, cancel his insurance for a tenant-buyer who can be vetted additionally by the lender will be taking over. Hanks's problems were swiftly Disappearing. How does this subject to thing work anyhow?

Finally the closing date has come and looked like this.

Purchase: $25,000 transfer of deed w/ subject to $290,000 fixed 30 year mortgage payments.

Hank has money for first and last for a apartment and got his job back. Also, his credit was soaring because of all the additional payoffs by the tenant-buyer the Mass Home Buyers LLC had moved in.

Investors side

Current mortgage: $1,250 per month

The Mass Home Buyers Lease Option Payments by tenant buyer: $1,900.00 ( the areas rental median is $2,500) Cash Flow $650.00

The tenant-buyer was a carpenter who pulled a new permit and added over 1600 SF of home and an in-law and two full baths. The home soared from $290,000 to $480,000.00

After cash-out refinances, the tenant-buyer will be able to reflip, and the Massachusetts Home Buyers LLC will make over $235,000 within 1.5 years. Not bad for one deal.

Hank no longer is upside down and in debt. He also has money in the bank. The tenant-buyer has an affordable investment he will inevitably reflip. The Massachusetts Home Buyers LLC made a healthy profit for saving Hank's credit from annihilation while providing inventory to one of many tenant buyers. Talk about a win/win/win heh? Subject to deal structuring is highly beneficial for sellers who are in situations like Hank, but also if they need to sell in a hurry due to a strict timeline that cannot wait for a realtor to research, market, interview, negotiate, and inevitably, sell their home.

Subject to candidates usually have three main scenarios in common:

They are facing foreclosure and/or exceptionally behind on payments

They want to repair their credit score and what better than a real estate solutions company paying their tab under their name on a monthly basis for an extended amount of time. As the buyer pays on the mortgage, the previous owner of which the note is named under, is being paid consistently. Sometimes even double paid due to the buyers motivation to pay down the balance in preparation of either a resell or a cash out finance situation.

They need to move very quickly and do not have the time to A) remote manage a realtor on the property which can result in miscommunication and other issues B) Has a new job that begins relatively soon that is out-of-state. C) A or B, however, has a significant amount of mortgage left to pay. and D) Is negative on their note and does not want to come out of pocket to pay the difference. The Massachusetts Home Buyers LLC not only assists those in selling their upside-down notes but will also. Reward the seller for transferring the title. What would you rather do?

The moral of the story is, long as you’re dealing with professionals and people who know how to market with structure and don’t hide things from anybody, make deals such as a subject to or any other Creative Financial matter that much more beneficial for all. As of today, the Massachusetts homebuyers not only helps people in need like Hank but also work with retail homebuyers because they structure their deals in a way that gives both the seller what they need in regards to pricing at the same time, create a good investment for their company. REMEMBER THIS: THE SELLER OF A PROPERTY MUST ALWAYS HAVE A MORTGAGE OR ANY ALTERNATE LIEN AGAINST THE HOME TO CONDUCT A SUBJECT TO DEAL. IF THEY DON'T HAVE ANY PAYMENTS AGAINST THE HOME THAN IT WOULD BE KNOWN AS SELLER FINANCING.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #313

“i’m your turbo lover  /  tell me there’s no other”

Where are you located at this moment? In my bed. What if you found out your ex was having a child with someone else? If it was Sara, I'm finding out who the fuck I'm flying up there to punch his face in. If it was Jason, I'd either faint or be in the bathroom vomiting. Or both. I can almost promise you at least one or the other while I have an absolute emotional breakdown. I'm not at the point in my recovery where I can hear that and be entirely okay. I'd be happy for any of the others. At what age do you think you'll be ready to have children? Never. When was the last time you couldn't stop laughing? Why? I don't recall. Which of your friends do your parents get along best with? I guess Girt, since he's known my mom the longest of the friends I still have. I don't know about Dad; he barely knows any of my friends seeing as I don't live with him and see him rarely. Is there anyone in your friendship group that your parents don't like? No. Can you recall the last time you were extremely disappointed? I surprisingly can't remember, even though I know it was recent. Who was the last person to un-friend you on Facebook? I don't know, it's not like I go hunting people down if I notice the number has dropped, lol. Do you know why he/she decided to un-friend you? I'm certain it would've been something political. Are there any food wrappings, boxes, containers etc. in your room? No. Do you know anyone who does have cancer? I don't think anyone who currently has it, no. I may know someone via association, but idk. What is the worst medicine you've ever taken? There are two that very strongly stand out: the first one was in middle school, and the second sometime last year. I was put on an antidepressant that made me absolutely love life in the morning, like I would practically prance through school, but come afternoon, I was a fucking demon. Mom took me off that shit so fast. Most recently, my birth control was changed to have more estrogen for some reason I can't recall (maybe it had to do with mood?? idk), and it made me... I'm just gonna say I was a ~mess~. I slammed on breaks with it so fuckin fast. Safe to say I returned to my normal pill. Has your house or where you stayed ever flooded? My childhood home came very close during Hurricane Floyd. Thankfully the water never got actually inside the house, but it was an absolute lake outside. What was the last event or special occasion you participated in? My niece's birthday was actually a couple days ago, so we celebrated at my sister's house. What do you find yourself reminiscing about the most? I'll give you one guess. Do you have a favorite pianist? No. Song you listened to last is...? I have "Turbo Lover" by Judas Priest on right now. What's the last type of cookie you ate? Uhhh I would assume chocolate chip. Do you have your own computer? I have my own laptop, and I'm possibly getting an actual computer come May?? One of my WoW friends knows the hell I've been through with this laptop, and she and her husband are getting new computers then, so she's basically pushed her husband's old one on me, lol. Apparently it works just fine, he just wants something better. I've told her again and again to make some money off of it, but she's pretty much giving me no choice lmao. I appreciate it a whole lot, though. It'd be pretty nice to separate games onto an actual, capable desktop versus making my laptop sound like it's screaming for God's mercy if I boot something up. Describe your computer chair? I don't have one. Well, there's an old one in the extra room I'm going to end up using, but all I know is it's black. I've never paid closer attention to it. Do you sleep with your door open or closed? Open. I feel too isolated with it closed. Are you going to keep your last name when you get married? God no, it's very unlikely. I hate my last name, take it away. Does it bother you when people beg? Why are they begging, and how insistently? It depends. Do you have any weird rings? I have two, but neither I consider weird, at least. Well, I suppose the one with "bitch" carved on the inside would confuse non-Supernatural fans, haha. Are you anything like your siblings? Not really, no. At least, my two immediate sisters. Mom says I'm extremely similar to her eldest daughter though and wishes we'd talk more, but yeah, I just don't have anything to talk about with her. I'm so bad at initiating conversation. When was the last time you shaved your legs? October for when I was doing that witchy photoshoot with a friend. I absolutely hate shaving my legs and pretty much only do if anyone else whose opinion would affect me may see them. What would be the best surprise you could receive right now? Uhhh I guess all the "upgrades" I want to make to Venus' enclosure: a 40g tank and a nice, accurate hygrometer and thermometer, as well as the proper kind of lamp for her. I feel like such a "bad snake mom" still having her in her current terrarium because, while it's perfectly liveable and not dangerous, it's too small for her. It's pretty much always on my mind to some degree nowadays, so just like, dropping the terrarium and extra tools off would be a massive weight off my shoulders. Did you ever skip a grade or get held back a grade? No, but I was able to skip the intro Writing course the last time I was in college; I just started in Writing II. Who took your profile pic? Anywhere where it's a picture of myself, odds are me. I hate getting pictures taken, but if it's gonna happen, it'll be through myself, knowing my "good" angle and such, lol. Have you ever been fishing? Do you know anyone who likes fishing as a hobby? I've been fishing many times, especially as a kid with my dad. There are pleeeenty of people I know who enjoy it. I don't anymore. Do you own any cats? What color are their eyes? Yes; his are a light blue. Is there a rose bush in your garden? What color are its roses? We don't have a garden. When was the last time you spent over $100 in one transaction? What did you buy? Over $100 with my own cash, a plane ticket. My recent tattoo deposit was exactly a hundred. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? Would you judge a grown adult for doing so? No; Roman would NEVER allow me to cuddle anything else, and I am not even remotely kidding. I couldn't care less if any adult does, though. Would you rather read an erotic novel or watch an erotic film? Ew, neither, but I guess a book would be better just so my eyes weren't forever scarred. What’s your favorite way to make your home smell good? Do you spend a lot of money on making this happen? INCENSE!!!! God, I love incense burners. I don't light it anymore though because Venus' terrarium is also in my room, and it's not good for snakes. What are the main two colors in the room you’re currently in? Did you pick these colors out yourself? Just... white. That's it. Well, my furniture is brown. I didn't pick either. How often do you wake up in the night needing to pee? Usually once, sometimes not at all anymore. I guess my bladder actually grew a pair. If you live in a household with pets, who is responsible for their care - both in terms of finance and the physical tasks involved? As far as the physical care, me. Mom does help me do a full clean of Venus' cage sometimes, though, because I don't trust myself to both keep her around my neck while I scrub the tank, hide, bowl, etc., with a cat that is my absolute shadow. I don't want to be bent over the tub and Roman tries to do something; he's shown very little interest in Venus, but still, I'm one hell of a paranoid snake mom that doesn't want to risk her life. Full cleans only happen like twice a year, so I don't mind too much asking my mother for some help. I should point out that Mom doesn't want to hold her, so we can't reverse roles. Do you have anything hanging from your ceiling apart from lights? Not anymore, no. At my old house and the one before, I had lots of Pyramid Head gift tags hanging, but our landlord doesn't want me to do that here. Would you describe yourself as neat, messy or somewhere in-between? I'm in-between. If you have pets, when was the last time one of them needed to go the vets? Venus had to go to the vet about a year into me having her because she was showing symptoms of an RI in strange breathing episodes, which can be fatal to a snake. Thank God, nature, whatever, that she didn't. There were warning signs, but closer watch over her humidity saved her. Roman, meanwhile, was taken to the vet like a year ago to be neutered. When the pandemic is over, what is one thing you can’t wait to do again? I barely ever left the house beforehand, so... I guess go to the movies. What’s one thing (aside from essentials) that you spend the most money on each month? Has anyone ever told you you’re obsessed or addicted with it? N/A What’s your favourite genre of TV show to watch? What’s your favourite show that’s not from that genre? If I had to pick, uhhh... yeah, idk, due to the whole "not into TV much to begin with" thing. Would you rather be employed or self-employed? Why? Self-employed, though taking care of all business matters yourself is/would suck. I just really want to be my own boss for the sake of photographing whatever I want. IIs your hair naturally curly, straight or somewhere in between? Do you wish it was different? It's straight, but on the wavy side, and I wish it wasn't. Do you ever play online games with your friends? Which one(s)? Just WoW. In the last week, have you had any alcoholic beverages? Which? No. Do you ever wear accessories in your hair? Which ones? No. Do you feel free to post your views on social media? Yep. I honestly don't care who it pisses off. What is your favorite work of historical fiction? Well, I don't really know what you consider truly "historical" in age... That, and I'm bad at dates to begin with. There are lots and lots of older books and movies I adore, though. Old Yeller is one of my favorite books ever, for one. The Boy In The Striped Pajamas makes me sob, too. What cartoon character looks like you? I remember when Hotel Transylvania came out, my ex's mob pointed out how much she thought I looked like the daughter, especially when my hair was dyed black. Do you have hope for the future? Some days I do, some days I don't. Do you believe in yourself? Ehhhh... debatable, idk. Do you have trouble letting go of your past? Oh yes. Were you happy in high school? It's funny, I was very depressed in HS, but due to Jason and friends, it's one of my most cherished time periods. Were you ever a teacher's favorite? I mean it modestly, but I was almost always pretty obviously one of the teachers' favorites. I was a good student. Are you popular? I wasn't. If you won a title in the senior class polls, what was it? I didn't. Have you ever had a medical condition that made you unable to work? My social anxiety is so debilitating that it's made it questionable. It ruined my very short-lived previous jobs. What makes your life worth living? My future goals, family, friends... What is your favorite Bible verse? I don't have one. List five careers you've considered. Paleontologist, vet, game designer, author, and wildlife biologist are all past ones. Do you have any unusual talents? If so, what? No. What do you get compliments on? My hair and my art, mostly. What have people told you you should be? I've heard "a vet" most in my life. What is holding you back? My (mostly social) anxiety and extreme fear of judgment. Do you have anyone purely evil in your life? Hell no, I wouldn't allow that person to stay in my life. Have you ever felt threatened for your life? I've felt scared for it, yes. While riding my bike once, I ran into a guy in my old neighborhood who had a criminal history, including assault, just asking what I was listening to on my iPod. I stopped because I was scared to keep going, and he wound up asking for my Facebook, but guess who didn't accept THAT friend request. List ten positive words that describe you. That's too much thinking, man. List ten negative words that [you feel] describe you. And that's too much negativity to fish in. Are you a good person or a bad person? I mean, I try to be a good one. Have you ever contemplated being a bad person? I've done bad things, but I've certainly never deliberated tried to be an overall bad person. Have you ever resorted to vandalism because you didn't have a voice? No. Have you ever egged someone's house? Wow, no. Do you want to egg someone's house? Also no because I'm a fucking adult. Have you ever seen a piece of graffiti that you are thankful for? What an odd question. I mean, no? Name three people who hurt you and didn't care. I am quite positive Colleen doesn't care about the many times she did considering she's always right. Was your first crush sexual, or no? No, I was just a kid. What would you do if you got pregnant right now? I honestly can't say I know. If I was God forbid raped, I'd probably have an abortion because I psychologically could not handle that without being scarred for life. If it was by my own stupidity, I feel I'd probably have the baby but give it up for adoption. I just can't raise a kid. Do you have a medical condition that you are embarrassed or ashamed to tell people you have? No, I don't think so. What do you get asked the most? Hm. OH, WAIT, THAT'S EASY. I get asked a lot if my lip piercing hurt. Have you ever stood up for someone else who was being bullied? I know I have before, but I don't remember the occasion. What tragic news stories that you've heard has touched you the most? Man, that's a lot to think about. You see news articles on Facebook all the time, and a whole lot of them touch me, so I dunno. What is your favorite thing to order at Taco Bell? I like the cheese quesadillas, and whatever those cinnamon bites are called are really good. I'm still tilted they got rid of the fiesta potatoes, because I adored those. Where do you have cutting scars (if you have any)? I only ever had them on my wrist, but you can't see them anymore. Do you like cotton candy? Not very, but I mean, I can have a bite or two. It's way too sweet to eat a lot of it. What's the best piece of graffiti you've ever seen? I'm unsure, but I've definitely seen beautiful work, especially online. Do you like tattoos? "Like" is a colossal understatement. Do you like piercings? Yep yep yep. Have you ever made someone so mad that they broke something? No. Those are not people I hang around with. Who is the last person you slow-danced with? Slow-danced? I don't think I've done that since Jason.

[prorevenge]

I end up working for the scammer who conned my parents.

So, this tale starts twelve years ago in 2007. Both my parents had retired at the same time and had received a large cash lump sum and would have a decent pension income for the rest of their lives. Dad was ex-Army, doing his national service and staying for another 8 years before travelling the world. He served with the Royal Engineers and moved into an engineering/maintenance role when he returned to the civillian life. Mum was a teacher, and with careful savings and multiple pensions they had more money coming in individually than I did in a salary.

The first thing they did was to renovate their house. They got several quotes for new windows, some minor building work, a new kitchen and a block-paved driveway. I helped them with researching the companies involved and with all the information at hand, they settled on a local company that we'll call Bad Company. Bad Company had membership of all the relevant professional bodies, had some good feedback and importantly was not the cheapest but their sales guy explained to my parents why a cheaper quote wasn't always better. They agreed on the £35k work and paid a 10% deposit. Work started, and they weren't asked for a single penny more until it had been completed. There were a couple of minor snags which were easily corrected, and it went £500 over budget due to the bad drainage of the house (something that had been mentioned before) but it looked satisfactory.

As it turned out, the windows had massive gaps in them that leaked water when it rained and you could actually hear the wind whistling through. Heating became expensive. Within a month, weeds and grass started poking through the block paved driveway and the electical work that was done in the new kitchen caused blown fuses if both ovens and the hob were turned on together. If you touched the plate around the light switch, you'd get an electric shock. After three months, water burst through the newly laid kitchen floor and the "Secured By Design" doors could simply be lifted out of their frame even when locked. We also noticed that they keys to the new doors were not the originals, and they were extremely difficult to lock especially as both parents had arthritis. The icing on the cake was that most of the windows were supposed to be argon filled, but the seals had already blown allowing air inside and condensation on the inside was apparent.

Dad asked a friend, Bob, to estimate the extra cost of fixing it. Bob said that to correct the now evident defects would cost nearly £20k as almost everything would have to be ripped out and re-done. Dad immediately contacted Bad Company, and the guy they sent round was rude, arrogant and blamed everything on the builders who had originally constructed the house doing a bad job. He wrote a report stating that none of the defects were down to the work carried out as the work had been done according to current best practices. That evening, one of the window frames fell out.

Dad spent a month after that trying to get Bad Company back to fix the issues, then he called all the regulatory bodies to find that Bad Company wasn't a member but just used the membership logos on their documentation. Around a year after the work was originally completed, Bad Company simply vanished. Phone numbers were disconnected emails bounced back and their office was now a conservatory showroom. Dad had already paid a well estabished window company £3k to fix the immediate window and door issues, and was left to pay another (much better) company £22k to fix the issues. This time we checked everything and made sure they were registered. We even got a warranty.

Cut to 2018, and I'm looking for a new job. Dad passed away quite unexpectedly in 2015 and Mum wasn't too good either (although she's a lot better now) so I needed a job closer to her house than the 2 hour commute to the next city that I currently had. As luck would have it, a local kitchen manufacturing company (lets call them Local Kitchens) was looking to expand and wanted an IT technician/developer. The pay was about £1k more a year than I was currently making, but I didn't have to spend £500 a month travelling to and from work (busses and trains are expensive). I interviewed, liked what I heard, and was accepted for the role. All the time, I thought that I somehow knew the boss of Local Kitchens.

Having worked in factory environments before, I arrived in a hi-viz vest, toecapped boots and with my own ear defenders. No-one else wore any P.P.E. - not even masks and goggles. When all the machinery ran, the factory floor hummed and buzzed along at a noise level of 105dB, well over the required minimum for wearing ear defenders or plugs. The boss, who we'll call John, also attempted to cut corners everywhere. My workstation was barely powerful enough to run the development software let alone the CAD/CAM software required. When the CPU fan died, he said that he couldn't afford to replace the fan. A new computer keyboard took 3 weeks to arrive and although we were paid on the 28th of each month, the pay was often not in the bank until 9pm, well after he had chased people who owed him money.

There were more lies that I uncovered, and bad business practices. It was like John had read a book on running a business then did the exact opposite. I spent the first six months between designing kitchens - something that I knew nothing about but suddenly fell under the remit of IT technician - maintaining the factory machines, driving the forklift (something that requires a specialist license that I don't hold) and doing IT work on his personal home computer equipment and mobile phones of him, his trophy wife, his kids and his parents. I also wrote several small computer programs, wired up the factory network, ensured that machinery could connect to the office computers and re-wrote most of the configuration for the industry specific software he used - which was not only unlicensed but also used on five separate machines despite the single (lapsed) license.

Also working at the company was Dad's friend Bob. Bob was a decade and a half older than me and had served his time "working the tools" making and fitting kitchens, bedrooms, and had spent a good fifteen years as a shopfitter on some very prestigious contracts. Bob was hired originally to do my job but he moved back to the manufacturing side when the expansion started as it was easier to employ an IT tech than it was a shopfitter. Bob had read an eulogy at Dad's funeral and was often round helping mum with bits around the house, so I knew Bob well and he looked after me at work. We got talking one day and I found out that Bob was earning less than me, even though he had a highly skilled and experienced role, and that despite being given more responsibility, John refused to pay Bob what Bob was worth.

Honestly, if Bob wasn't there, most of the knowledge was lost. Bob and I had frequently told John better ways to do key tasks, but John refused simply because there would be a small cash outlay. I should have seen the writing on the wall at that point, but no.

Running up to Christmas, John tells us all that he's giving us all a bonus, and will pay us early for the christmas to new year shutdown period. We soon discover though that the bonus was a £5 tub of sweets - which Bob can't eat because he has type 1 diabeties, and I can't eat because I have this really strange sugar allergy. I was going to mention it to John, but Bob tells me not to as it's Christmas and it will be something for my kids to enjoy. I actually ended up with three boxes of sweets because he over-ordered.

That day, despite being an IT technician, I had to chase an order with a company, order some materials from a supplier, and supervise a fitter as he attempted to install some new showroom units. John is nowhere to be found until just as we're about to leave. He asked Bob for a moment of his time and I go home.

The next day, Bob tells me that he and John talked until 7pm (an extra 3 hours) about the business. Bob was asked to invest £10k for a quick capital injection as winter is always a bad time for people buying kitchens, so income is slow but there are a number of large orders in the pipeline. Bob told him what he thought of the shady business practices and the poor management, and he said that he could walk out of this job today and be earning double before the year is out. He refused to invest. Other things were said, and Bob dropped the first bombshell, explaining that every job they did for a new client was actually making a loss. The new client had been Local Kitchens only revenue stream since mid October. Apparently John was genuinely shocked and didn't realise that it cost him £200 per hour just to run his business, jumping to £300 if the machinery is running.

The day before we're due to finish for Christmas, I get called into the nearly complete new showroom. I thought John was going to show me what needs finishing and which units need designing, but no. He's worked out the finances and states that there's only enough money to keep me on for another couple of months. He even tries to turn it around by saying that he's sorry and that I'm a good employee but the income isn't there, and he wanted to give me enough time to find something else. I felt my entire world crumble. The rest of the day was a daze, but just before I left, I overhear him ordering some materials from a supplier. His exact words were: Yes, it's John from Local Kitchens. You might have us down as Bad Company.

That's when all the pieces fell into place. It finally clicked why I knew his face. He was the one who scammed my parents.

The last day of work before Christmas arrives, and John had taken his family away over the christmas / new year period. We had to ensure that the factory was powered down, locked off and secure. No-one else wanted the responsibility so I volunteered. With only Bob and myself still left in the factory, I set about gathering evidence and investigating his finances. I already know about the losses, but digging deeper I find that the company actually has no cash flow. Everything is done on credit. His house, his wife's Range Rover, his Jaguar and several other assets are registered as company assets but they're all on finance through Local Kitchens. He owed at least £750k in credit, loans and mortgages.

Bob advised me against doing anything rash as it would only come back to me and agreed that John needed to be taught a lesson not just for the way he treated his empolyees, but for conning my parents and several others out of their life savings. Bob had found a set of files from 2005 to 2008 with customer complaints for shoddy work in the name of Bad Company. It was far too late to legally do anything about the complaints, but we could bring down John and his smug attitude. Bob suggested I read up on health and safety over christmas, and perform some observations in the new year.

January and February I spent making notes, taking photographs and researching legislation. By the time the end of February rolled around, I had a thick folder full of breaches of health and safety, environmental issues, data protection (or lack thereof) and the lack of software licensing. John was well aware of the software issue, but he said that "as long as the software keeps running, it'll be ok". I had emals from him to back this up, and requests for purchases of software and hardware that were turned down so he could dine out at fancy restaurants or stay in 4 star hotels.

My last day rolls around. I have a much better development job lined up thanks to some recruiter contacts I have, and as the current day was a Thursday and I didn't start my new job until Monday, I planned on sleeping in on Friday. John is strangely absent all day but arrives just as we're all leaving for the day. HE SAYS NOTHING as he watches me leave. I got the impression immediately that he wanted me to stay until Friday, but he said that my last day was "the end of the month" and not "Friday". Unsuprisingly, the pay is late. It's 10pm before it appears in the account.

I went to see my mum that evening and told her who my boss was, the way he simply cast me aside when he was done with me, and that I wanted to break him as revenge for the bad work and what we have always considered as a scam. Now, my mum is the sweetest lady you could ever meet, and I was completely shocked when she actually said "bury the bastard". She even let me use her garden incinerator to destroy the personal hand-written instructions that Bob and myself had created since I started. The knowledge of how to fix issues with the specialist software now only existed in our memories.

Friday rolls around, and I have no reason to get up early. My phone is ringing constantly becuase John is trying to get hold of me and it's soon evident that things are going south, rapidly. Bob sent me a text telling me that he gave John a final invoice at 8AM and walked out. Now, had this been petty revenge then the tale would have ended here with him not being able to use his business-critical unlicensed software, and hiring new people, but this is Pro revenge and my mother did tell me to "bury the bastard" so despite feeling sorry for the one other genuine employee that I had a lot of respect for, I enacted my totally legal if not a little underhanded plan.

I reported Local Kitchens and John to the Federation against Software Theft for illegal use of licensed software, giving them information regarding which software was illegally used and how. Just to be safe, I also reported them directly to those software companies too. I supplied the emails as evidence where I had explained to John that he was breaking the law by not having the correct and valid licenses.

I then called a friend at the local government Health and Safety team, reporting no fewer than thirty rule breaches, sending him the supporting images and video. One of Local Kitchens professional memberships had lapsed, but John was still using the logo on paperwork, email signatures, website and the company van, in addition to the signage on the building. I reported that to the professional body in question. I honesly considered reporting GDPR breaches, but I don't think that he had done anything that could be considered a breach.

A week later, John sent me a message stating that If I was still looking for work, he would pay me £50 per day to do "IT work" for him. It came across as if he was trying to do me a favour. I told him that I was previously on £90 per day, but as I was now a freelance contractor, the going rate was closer to £200 per day. He didn't send me another message.

Three weeks later, and the showroom saleswoman - who we'll call Jane (the one remaining staff member I respected) called me to tell me that John had closed Local Kitchens and declared bankruptcy owing nearly a million pounds. I asked about fines, and she said that Health and Safety were behind a building closure which stopped production causing the bankruptcy. In the same week, he had legal notices for illegal software.

As this unfolded, I kept Bob in the loop and Jane kept me informed. As of the start of July, the final figure for fines was levied. £932k debts to the business, £876k fines too. On that same day, purely by chance I was helping a friend deliver pizza and John placed an order My friend was driving and doing the shop work, and I was going to the door to hand the food over, so I actually got to deliver his food. He was nice enough to me when he opened the door, and stated that if I had done the extra "IT Work" for him then I wouldn't have to deliver pizza. I told him that it was what it was, and questioned the fact that there was only enough for 1 meal - didn't his wife like pizza? He told me that she'd left him and taken the kids back to her parents, and that he wasn't OK with that but he had no choice. I agreed, an then decided to twist the knife even more.

I told him that it was a good job he got rid of me when he did, because I now had a fantastic well-paid job that I'm good at, and that if I had stayed, then I would have brought myself down as well as him. That's when he realised that I had called in all the agencies that had eventually shut him down. He demanded to know why, as he had "given me everything" and "taught me how to work in the kitchen industry". I simply replied with my parents address and the year 2007. I saw the colour drain from his face as he realised that his past had caught up with him. Then I told him how much he had to pay on his pizza, and he threw £40 at me and snatched the food out of my hands, slamming the door in my face. His food was only £21.50, so I got a nice £18.50 tip from him that night.

(source) story by (/u/tac-21a)

[things2mustdo]

The Ascent Of Money by Niall Ferguson is an introduction to modern finance and the rise of money lending, presenting a favorable view of their effects upon the world.

…financial innovation has been an indispensable factor in man’s advance from wretched subsistence to the giddy heights of material prosperity that so many people know today.

…poverty is not the result of rapacious financiers exploiting the poor. It has much more to do with the lack of financial institutions, with the absence of banks, not their presence. Only when borrowers have access to efficient credit networks can they escape from the clutches of loan sharks, and only when savers can deposit their money in reliable banks can it be channeled from the idle rich to the industrious poor.

…approximately $1 of every $14 paid to employees in the United States now goes to people working in finance. Finance is even more important in Britain, where it accounted for 9.4% of GDP in 2006.

The book gives an interesting history of some of the world’s most famous bankers and the power they accumulated, particularly the Medicis and Rothchilds, who brought value by facilitating trade and commerce while reducing transaction prices. It also described the role of European bankers during the American Civil War.

Though others had tried before them, the Medici were the first bankers to make the transition from financial success to hereditary status and power  They achieved this by learning a crucial lesson: in finance small is seldom beautiful. By making their bank bigger and more diversified than any previous financial institution, they found a way of spreading their risk.

One of the biggest financial innovations was fractional reserve banking, pioneered by the Swedes. Other European countries improved finance while the Spaniards, still obsessed with silver and gold in their American colonies, kept defaulting time and time again, not understanding that the true nature of money lay in debt and not mineral reserves. One of the more interesting parts of the book was its description of the bond market and its powerful stranglehold on world governments.

…the bond market is powerful partly because it passes a daily judgement on the credibility of every government’s fiscal and monetary policies. But its real power lies in its ability to punish a government with higher borrowing costs. Even an upward move of half a percentage point can hurt a government that is running a deficit, adding higher debt service to its already high expenditures.

…countries that defaulted on their debts risk economic sanctions, the imposition of foreign control over their finances and even, in at least five cases, military intervention.

While the book paints a rosy view of finance, it also highlights cases where the abuse of it through hook and crook caused problems for entire economies, particularly through price inflation. A recent example of that was Goldman Sachs’ commodity manipulation that caused the price of common foodstuffs to rise. On the other hand, ignoring finance and having inflexible monetary policy can turn recessions into depressions. He suggests that Helicopter Ben Bernanke actually did the right thing in showering Wall Street with money to prevent a depression. He also thinks Alan Greenspan is a great man for admitting he shouldn’t have kept interest rates so low.

Economies that combined all these institutional innovations—banks, bond markets, stock markets, insurance and property-owning democracy—performed better over the long run than those that did not, because financial intermediation generally permits a more efficient allocation of resources then, say, feudalism or central planning. For this reason, it is not wholly surprising that the Western financial model tended to spread around the world, first in the guise of imperialism, and then in the guise of globalization.

You’ll also read about:

The abysmal effects of Britain’s weflare system on their economy

Argentina’s failed destiny to become an economic superpower due to bad economic decisions and poor leadership

How the “risk free” LTCM fund imploded and almost took the world economy with it

My problem with the book is that his explanations were too light. He glossed over tough concepts like sovereign bonds and other financial instruments without providing much in the way of examples, unlike a writer such as Matt Taibbi who explains the most complex concept in a way that laymen can understand. I felt like I had to read this book in front of Google so that I could look up things he mentioned only in passing.

The book also seemed hurried with its historical research, especially towards the end when it become a jumbled mess. Overall it’s an okay book but I don’t recommend it for the neophyte.

…it’s not owning property that gives you security; it just gives your creditors security. Real security comes from having a steady income.

Read More: “The Ascent Of Money” on Amazon

https://www.returnofkings.com/10595/there-is-no-hedge-against-inflation

You’ve seen him: an older man sitting next to a roaring fire or maybe  walking the grounds of his ranch or he might be  in a suit facing the camera. The messages are all the same: something about  “troubling times” and “safety and security” —maybe they mention the  federal reserve or money printing. Times are bad and could get worse, but  they can help you. They have the answer. What is this company selling? GOLD.

Why would you want a gold coin or bar? It doesn’t earn interest and it  doesn’t grow or produce anything. It is vulnerable to theft. The price can  move down with astonishing speed as we saw last April (as of the time of this writing it has retraced over 50% of that selloff). But could it go up in value, could it “skyrocket” as the gold shills say?

Keep in mind that gold has already gone up a lot recently, about  fivefold  in the past ten years. And to simply say that gold is a hedge against inflation is misleading. If you compare the price today, let’s say $1500 per oz, to the average price in 1974, about $150/oz, it actually exceeded  inflation. Using CPI over this period gold’s value increased at about double  the rate of inflation. However, if you bought gold in 1980, average price that year about $600/oz, you’d have to wait until 2006 for the price to come back to that level and not inflation adjusted dollars either (inflation destroyed about 65% of the purchasing power in that timeframe – and this is using CPI which notoriously understates real world prices). Gold prices and inflation are not as closely correlated as the gold sellers would have  you think.

But what about “these troubling times”? It’s different now, right? It might be. This is basically what they’re talking about: the federal government and the federal reserve have been acting in tandem to recapitalize the U.S. economy after the 2008 crisis. The government has been spending like crazy and running huge deficits (and buying lots of votes, funny how that  works out for them). These deficits are financed by the issuing of bonds of which the federal reserve bank has been the main buyer under the guise of  Quantitative Easing  and the Zero Interest Rate Policy. This what they mean by printing money –  the fed can buy whatever it wants and it has been buying these bonds that are loans to the government.

The Fed doesn’t need money, rather, it creates it. It is the central bank and it can just put the bonds on its balance sheet. A lot of people, this author  included, think the government and the Fed are nuts to think that this course would enable economic growth and it will probably only lead to  inflation which could become severe and maybe uncontrollable. Without turning this into a financial doomer article, let’s just say both sides make their case and we won’t know which one is right until this QE and ZIRP experiment is over.

This is what it comes down to: if the price of gold in dollars goes exponential in a hyperinflationary situation everything else  priced in dollars is going to do the same. You can’t expect that your gold coin will buy the same goods that it would buy now if this happens. The actual purchasing power of your gold will surely decline as day-to-day essentials  become prioritized. Put another way, if 1500 this week buys you one gold coin or 250 basic meals, in a hyperinflationary situation that gold coin might exchange for the equivalent of 100 meals or maybe not even twenty. Of course, 1500 in a bank account or your mattress would be worth much less – maybe not even one meal. The possible hyperinflation scenario is the most compelling reason to hold gold now. It’s not about getting rich. It’s about retaining some savings in the face of a massive financial collapse.

In reality, nothing keeps up with inflation like you will want. Agriculture futures are seasonal and your position has to be rolled over every so often costing you fees and changing your cost basis. Your  inflation hedge could get destroyed by a good harvest or weak global demand.  Stocks are typically seen as an inflation hedge but in a real collapse your brokerage company or even your local bank might not even exist anymore. You may eventually be made whole on the companies you own but this will take years.

Outside of a financial crisis the case for gold is weak. If you’re holding gold the best case scenario is unclear. Perhaps the price rises faster than inflation but that’s probably a longshot. Consider that if  interest rates start to rise, if the Fed sees the light on the harm ZIRP is doing, and if inflation is mild then those holding gold are going to be screwed as many decide to sell, preferring actual cash. Expect gold to lose at least 30% from today’s prices and it could happen in a day or two. Don’t  expect your dealer to give you a good price or even answer your call or email if everyone comes in selling.

The risk of gold losing value in the face of an improving economy is something you need to be aware of and in a crisis it won’t provide the kind  of financial safety that the gold bugs allege. If you still need a place to park your savings you might consider silver. It’s incrementally cheaper to get into and has more industrial value than gold though it is historically more volatile. Or what about booze? A case of good whiskey or rum is highly barterable, doesn’t spoil, tracks inflation as well as anything, and if times get better (or worse), you can always drink it.