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nkogneatho · 2 years

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𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘

— 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

#series m.list #m.list #taglist #tip me

—word count: 1.5k

—cw: fem!reader, semi-public sex, cunningulus, fingering, protected sex.

—A/n: was rubbing my thighs while writing this. Anyways. Enjoy. Send feebacks.

—Reblogs are appreciated.

You know how there's always a man that people find annoying, but somehow you're the only one ridiculously attracted towards him? Yeah. Gojo Satoru was like that to you.

Don't get me wrong. Girls loved him. A lot of them in fact. And why won't they? He was rich, tall, good-looking, and known to be extremely flirtatious. A prince charming. But anyone who had met him in real life found him egoistic, immature, ignorant, and annoying. In fact, he had a nickname among the people who back bitched about him. 'Self obsessed whore.' Sounds about right. But these same qualities turned you on. You found that self-obsession and ego laced voice—when he would say something to piss the higher ups off—sexy. So, when the Kyoto School principal ordered you to go to the meeting with Satoru, you almost fainted from happiness.

You had put more than usual effort in your makeup. Made sure your shirt missed a few buttons to flaunt the bare skin that might catch his eyes. You even shaved. You felt like a clown because what were you expecting? The leader of the Gojo clan would be interested in fucking me? Haha. Yes. Maybe I should've put on a clown makeup. You thought. But you shaved anyway. Who knows? Perhaps you'll get lucky.

The whole time in the meeting, you were staring at him. He might've thought you were seriously invested in what he had to say, but all you could think was of those lips. They were glossy. Maybe he had a lip balm on. And if he did, you badly wanted to know what flavor. Perhaps smell it. Or even taste it—

“So anyway. That brings me back to my point that we're not going to execute Itadori unless it's officially clear that he's a threat to humanity,” he confirmed, fidgeting the matcha tea cup in his hand. “Although even if he was a threat, you know I won't have any trouble to put Sukuna in his place.”

God. You hated that you blushed at that. And you hated it even more knowing that it was clearly visible to him. But it all went away when you saw a faint smile appear on his face. You couldn't see his eyes, but you knew they were staring right at you.

“Thank you so much for your assistance. I'll confirm this with Principal Gakuganji. We shall look forward to carrying out the concluded plan,” you said as you shook hands with him. He had this slightly firm grip on you and send shivers down your spine. Wow. I am holding hands with Gojo Satoru. When what you were actually doing is having a professional handshake at the end of the meeting, just like how any other person would.

“Well, if you may, I shall leave.” But he didn't. Instead, he was staring at you with an expression you couldn't comprehend. Then you looked down and realized that you hadn't let his hand go. Shit. You dumb bitch. Now he might know you have eyes for him. You felt embarrassment creep over you, but Satoru saved you and just laughed it off.

You both left the room together. He headed towards his car and you towards yours. You both once again noticed each other in the same place. Apparently, he had his car parked next to yours. You gave him a warm smile, which made him say something totally unexpected.

“I thought you just had a crush on me. But now you stalk me too?” He laughed. Your brain did a 180° after processing what he had just said. He knew?

“Wh–what? I wasn't stalking you. My car is parked here too,” you stutter.

“Oh. So, I am only right about the crush part then.” Dammit. You knew it was a joke. You knew this was his nature. And wasn't this exact thing why you liked him? Then why did it piss you off?

“I— ugh. No wonder they call you a self obsessed whore,” you mumbled. It was supposed to be inaudible. You didn't realize you were thinking out loud.

“Come again?”

“What? Nothing. It wasn't about you—”

“I am a self-obsessed whore. You knew that then, why the heart eyes in the meeting, baby?” He got closer and closer. It was becoming difficult to breathe. Shit. He is an asshole. But people should emphasize that he is also hot, flirtatious, attractive, and tall. That same tall body was towering you now.

“Please. If you come any closer, then…”

“Then what, baby?” he held your chin, making you look up at him.

“Then I will end up kissing you.” Your breath was heavy.

He took in all the air you had exhaled, before consenting a “then fucking kiss me.”

That was all that it took for you to lose control and crash your lips on his. He didn't budge, letting you do everything you wanted. After some minutes, he wrapped his arms around the waist, lifted you off the ground, and placed you on the bonnet of his smoke gray car. He then started pushing his tongue through, rubbing his hands on your back. You found yourself moaning into the kiss. He did have a lip balm on. And now you could taste it. It was a mix of blueberry and mint.

“Need you.” You pleaded, breaking the kiss and catching a breath.

“Right here?”

“Mhm. Please.” And there it was. Something he can't resist. A kind request from such a pretty person. And there is no way in hell he was gonna miss a chance of fucking you in an empty underground space, which was apparently also a parking lot for the abandoned school.

Gojo quickly went inside his car and pulled out a condom and all the other needed things. When he came back to the front, he saw your hands reaching between your thighs. Your eyes closed. You looked so sexy.

“Baby?” He whispered. “Hold on to this for me, please.” He pleaded, tugging the hem of your shirt between your teeth. He inserted two wet fingers that he spat on, stretching you out nicely. You whimpered, feeling erotic. The hands that you were thirsting on earlier were now into you, fingering you.

“Need to feel those lips.”

“They are already on your lips, baby” he assured, kissing you, but you pulled away.

“No, no. Uhm—fuck. Need to feel them—” your hands traveled between your legs, pointing on your pussy, “right here.” All those feelings he was holding back emerged from his body as he bent down, kissing your pussy. Thank god I shaved. Your drooling cunt was fluttering at how good those lips felt on your wetness. He pushed his tongue, rubbing them harshly on your clit. He was so passionate. You loved the feeling.

A few licks later, your orgasm came crashing down on you. He held your legs when they were shaking from the pleasure. He crawled up to your lips, trying to hear your moans clearer. They felt like music to his ears.

“I wonder how blueberries lip balm and my cum tastes together?” You grinned.

“Why don't you taste it yourself?” His lips once again crashed yours. It tasted surprisingly good.. Fruity, but a little sour. You loved it.

Satoru wore the condom. He gathered your wetness, teasing your clit before pushing past your hole. “Holy shit,” you moaned so loud. His length was long enough.

Halfway through the sex, you were losing your grip, but he held your hips tightly, guiding you on his cock. He brought one of his hands to your clit and started rubbing it. You once again closed your eyes, feeling another orgasm approaching you.

“Fuck, baby. Ah! You're so hot. So fucking tight. Wanna cum.” His hips thrust hard into you.

Satoru was close too. It was one of the reasons he wanted to make you cum while he does, so you milk him dry.

Your legs shivered and wrapped tightly around his hips. “Ah! Fuck. Oh shit, baby.” He groaned, stopping his thrusts. With a stuttering hips, he came while being inside you. There was a barrier if rubber, but you could feel how warm his cum was.

“Well, that was…” he wiped the sweat off your forehead. “—amazing. I was good.”

You laughed at his comment. “You really are a self-obsessed whore.”

“Never denied it, baby.” He pressed his forehead against yours.

You both were just looking into each other's eyes. Just two half naked bodies in a parking lot. But it didn't feel cold. Your hearts warmed up at how fondly you gazed at each other. How gently your body was pressed against each other. That's something you never wanted. Yet needed.

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saerayofsunshine · 2 years

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Two Times; One Time

Summary: Two times Naito hated her, one time were he just couldn’t get enough of her, even when they were destined to fight each other. TW: Brief mentions of blood and death, but nothing too detailed. Word Count: 2.5K A/N: Enjoy the ride, enjoy the ride (final A/N also at the end of the chapter because I don't wanna spoil anything)

feel free to reblog + like + comment if you liked my writing and enjoy the reads!

cross-posted on ao3

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three (current chapter)

The development of one’s life was fascinating. How someone could be affected by one’s environment so greatly, even if certain genetics had been inherited by the parents; how circumstances seem to affect a person more deeply than they might let on; how a child’s mental process changed with the flow of time, maturing alongside the physical vessel…such elements had a great influence on one’s being, or so Naito had learned.

Circumstances, whether those be good or bad, made him grow up faster: countless battles gave him scars that he wore as accessories, though that experience also made him wiser, which was useful as a teacher. Whether he had won or lost, Naito made it his mission to learn something out of the (mis-)fortune.

He had matured. He grew up both mentally and physically, expanding his knowledge and craving his own path. Whether that path was the right or the wrong one that couldn’t be known, but Naito knew was that it was the path that he chose to follow.

His principles, his choices, his actions. After so much time wasted, he understood what it was to stand for what represents his choices as correctly as possible.

With this realization came the flow of question that had no clear answer, other than his own opinion on the matter:

Could a momotarou and an oni ever love each other in earnest, as it was between lovers? Would it be possible for them to overcome the rotten history that stemmed in between them, for them to see the person who they are for, to cherish each other’s presence and find home within the other’s arms?

Was there potential for growth, for change?

So many questions and no clear answer.

Naivety was not a trace Naito possessed, for every trace of that had left him with his growth, but it wasn’t naivety that made Naito answer with a ‘yes’. Hope bloomed within his heart for the next generation: with every year that passed, with each school year he taught in the academy, he could only wish that the youth had a chance to spur this change.

Was it so wrong of him to want change? He liked the thought of not discriminating someone because of some physical (or psychical) attribution his partner might possess. The thought of not discriminating someone because of some physical (or psychical) attribution his partner might possess sounded rational, right to him. Why would he, or other people, care about such trivial things in the first place, when all that should matter in between lovers was the feeling they awoke within each other?

To love a person was to love them along their flaws they might possess, to gently right their wrongs, to tenderly take their hands into their own and walk the chosen path they craved for themselves. To be with a person requires effort, effort Naito was willing to give, instead of ignoring the butterflies that had been churning inside his stomach for ages whenever he thought of her.

Her face. Her voice. Those plush lips that curled upwards so deliciously into a wicked smirk whenever she was ready to spout a witty remark back at him. Her bright eyes, so contrast to her comments and practically a window to her soul, revealing the true feelings, showcasing her pain and suffering she continuously went through, her joy, her amusement, her love she was fortune enough to continue to experience.

She was like a book for him, easy to read and get lost in, and he was already too invested in her story long before he realized.

Sometimes, Naito questioned when his attraction even started. How he didn’t realize her ensnaring hold she had on his mind ever since they met each other for the first time had been beyond him. All he could recall was the churning within his stomach as he first laid his eyes upon her sauntering figure, black eyes crashing into her own eyes, unable to tear his gaze away anywhere else; all he could think of was the following adrenaline rush he experienced when he realized she was on pair with him, matching him in every step in their dance of death.

As much as it had disturbed him for harboring such strong intrigue towards his enemy, Naito tended to respect those who had worked to achieve the power they yield now.

Though, no matter his personal feelings or thoughts about her, one thing had always been clear to him: they were on the opposite sides in this endless war. That much had been apparent to him when he first encountered her, though the reality of their circumstance became more clear as he watched countless oni fall by her hand that second time they had met at the basement.

What a shame it had been, to see her on the other side of the board whenever they had an fateful encounter.

On rare occasions, when he had a moment to himself, Naito had ask himself, could they have been friends if it weren’t for this endless struggle, this continuous war they found themselves to be a part of?

In his younger days, Naito would ask himself such bizarre questions, and the answer and conclusion would come find him whenever he saw a glimpse of her blood smeared appearance, shamelessly looking him in the eye, a decapitated head gripped tightly its hair.

As much as she had effortlessly captivated his attention, Naito remembered the growing hatred he had felt towards her, remembered the anguish she had caused him by just doing her part of the job.

At that time, Naito had convinced himself that there wouldn’t, couldn’t, be anything between them. Considering their history and the emotional pain they had inflicted on each other (even if it was unintentional on their part most of the time), the damage had been long done.

Time flies and opinions (even hardheaded ones) change, like a leaf slowly transforming its color from green to brown with the change of season. Admittedly, Naito hadn’t thought this would apply to him as well (like the oblivious youngster he had been), but with growing up and learning to become an adult, starting to teach the next generation of onis within the academy, a change of heart was soon to follow him after.

Holding on to hatred that the conflict had been causing, on to rotten believes some of the older generation might desperately try to clutch onto was irrational, and Naito was anything but irrational. Being rational and efficient was one of his top priorities, and if holding onto principles some old geezers were trying to uphold, he would make the effort to escape those clutches.

And what a decision it had been. Definitely for the better, if he could say so himself.

It had been hard, at first, to not react he way he had been used to react, the way it was expected of him to, but a change of heart was what he desired, which required a change of structural changes in his thoughts and behavior; growth and patience for the process was needed to achieve such goal, something Naito was willing to practice.

Lost in his thoughts and unaware of his surroundings, Naito hadn’t heard the approaching figure, getting startled from the sudden question directed to him: “Hey, what are you doing?”

He slammed the notebook shut, quit to hide his scribbles and thoughts from the woman who had approached and wrapped her arms around him from behind, nuzzling into his neck. He felt lips graze his throat, softly traveling up and down the path of his neck. It was tingling wherever her lips touched, like a feather was softly grazing his skin. He sighed at the sensation, eagerly craning his neck to give her more space to place kisses across, basking in the loving bliss his partner showered onto him.

“Nothing concerning. Just got lost in my thoughts. Why are you doing up so late? It’s past midnight already,” he mumbled, gently squeezing the hand that rested on top of his shoulder.

He held his breath as the kisses traveled painstakingly slow from his neck, to the underside of his jaw, to his cheek, paying special attention to the tattoo on his cheek before she placed her chin on his shoulder. “Well… if a certain someone didn’t decide to leave the bed, I would probably still be asleep,” she whispered, tugging at his hands, coaxing him to get up from his office chair and leave the office behind for tonight. “I can’t have you walking around tired all morning tomorrow, love. What would you students say, hm?”

“They would have to deal with it, simple as that.”

“…That sounds incredibly inefficient for you, my love. You need to get some sleep in.”

Midnights were especially hard for him, his mind overflowing with memories that he was eager to note down. Nonetheless, he complied easily as his partner led him towards their shared bedroom and helped him get comfortable on their bed, eagerly joining him after and resting her head on his shoulder, shamelessly cuddling into his side. She was especially cute tonight, he thought as he shivered not only because of the cold, but because of the anticipation.

“What were you writing about?” she whispered curiously, as to not disturbed the quiet between them too much, tracing different shapes on top of his chest. The continuous coos of owls that lurk in the nature, along with the soft tingles of her finger wandering all over him was sure to lull him to sleep. “Something I should worry about? You won’t make me have to go through your stuff to know, right?” she added teasingly, leisurely moving her index finger over to the left side of his chest – right above his heart.

“Not at all,” he mumbled, slightly adjusting his position so he could play with her hair. “Just thinking about past evens and alike, you know how it is,” he confessed, nuzzling into her hair before placing a short kiss on top of her head.

“Oh, about what, exactly?”

“About our past…” he uttered vaguely, glancing down to the woman snuggling close to his chest. She looked at him, unblinking, urging him to spill the beans. He smiled down at her, slowly rubbing circles on her shoulders. “I just thought about all the events that brought us here. Kiyomizu Temple, to be precise.”

She huffed, squirming at the thought of the happenings. “Not really a bedtime story I like to think about, to be honest. It’s more like a nightmare.”

Naito hummed in agreement, still rubbing comforting circles on her shoulder and down her upper arm. “I know, but I just remember being surprised seeing you there all of a sudden. If it weren’t for Kyouya, who knows what would have happened.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t attack me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you didn’t but nonetheless, I was surprised.”

“Kyouya helped explaining the situation to me but even then, seeing you help the injured onis definitely helped me keep a cool head and not jump to conclusions,” he explained, his hand slipping from her upper arm to her hip, caressing as much naked skin as he could reach, before tugging and pinching at her, urging her to lay on top of him, which she complied happily by swinging her leg over his waist.

“I wasn’t expecting you to help anyone. I think that was the first time I saw you look so compassionate, and I think that was also the first time I admitted to myself that you weren’t just a momotarou trying to destroy all of us. You were just as lost as I was, I can see that now.”

“Hmm…” placing a peck on his nose, she teased, “That sounds like love at first sight to me.”

“Not at all.”

“It’s unnecessary to lie to me, I can tell when you’re lying or not, darling.”

Naito grumbled quietly under his breath, though a small smile was slowly etching into his face at her antics, far more amused and relieved than he liked to show. It would bother him far more if he saw her hung up on the past and lose her self-confidence and happiness because of it; he would rather have her annoy and tease him than her mopping around, overthinking all the fights and situations they had to go through to become who they are now.

“I thought of how different you looked compared to all the other times I saw you. I’m still curious on what exactly made you change your mind and help us out that day, but I’m grateful, nonetheless,” he said, absentmindedly caressing her cheek with his thumb, feeling her skin getting warmer as seconds passed by. “You were so gentle with Mei, I felt like it was the first time you dropped the pretentious act you seemed to put on around everyone.”

They looked at each other, unable to look away. Why would they, even? After witnessing such ugly events for a long time, he learned to appreciate the beauty in the smallest things, and her eyes, her eyes that were on him, the lovely crimson that slowly spread from her cheeks to her ears, was the prettiest thing he had the fortune to admire.

“Children have no business in this conflict. I’m just glad I could somehow, someway help… glad to have the opportunity to prove my worth.”

“You don’t need to prove anything,” he said, the intense stare practically daring her to disagree with his statement. “Anybody who can’t see your worth is a fool in my eyes.”

She smiled at him, his words meaning far more to her than she could ever try to describe.

Painstakingly slow, they inched forward, unabashedly making their intentions clear to each other.

She was eager to have his lips on her own, eager to reliving the excitement she knew he could give to her, her eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and lips for any sign of discomfort, but founding none. On the contrary, the small smirk told her just how much he wanted her, as well.

Kissing her didn’t feel like fireworks going off; it felt familiar and smooth as she gently pressed her lips onto his, like a river that flowed nonstop, the current powerful enough to sweep him up alongside. He wouldn’t mind getting lost in it, more than happy to be swept away. Eagerly reciprocating, he moved alongside her, feeling his heart beating and fluttering like crazy with each drag of her mouth on his. His hands inched towards the back of her neck, and she gasped as he jerked her forward, pulling her impossibly close. Their bodies pressed together, breathing heavily, but unwilling to stop the shared passion. Her lips were soft, moving passionately against his, fueling his own desire.

Everything she was willing to give, he unabashedly took.

Naito couldn’t really answer the question of whether onis and momotarous could leave their dispute behind and love each other as they all deserve to be loved. Hatred was always going to exist, the past was hard to forget and even harder to forgive, but he was glad that he had found his own path, pleased that hatred hadn’t overpowered his heart and mind.

He couldn’t answer the question with certainty, but, tangled up in his lover’s arms and having her in his arms as well, he could say for himself that yes, it was a possibility, indeed.

A/N: Thank you all for reading my fic so far! Hope you have enjoyed my writing. I had something completely different planned for this fic because when the idea first came to my mind, I thought of a scenario where Naito and MC meet again (as the third time) but instead of fighting him, she helps him, which is them 'becoming lovers' part. So the first two chapter represent the enemies part (the first and second time they met each other) and the third repesents the lovers part.

I also had this idea in mind that with each chapter, the character are going to grow up and mature. So the first chapter represents the youngest Naito and him doing the things that is expected of him, the second chapter where he start to question everything a bit, and the third chapter where he is already on his own path. So yeah, I thought writing it like this would be fun and interesting.

Thank you all again for reading!

#mudano naito #naito mudano #tougen anki #naito mudano x reader #mudano naito x reader #mudano x reader #tougen anki x reader #naito x reader #fanfiction #writing #saeray writes

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j-graysonlibrary · 8 months

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The Xiang Chronicles: Book Two Chapter 11

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Two

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 98k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: With another Xiang in the mix, for the first time in history, Pangu decides to reevaluate his methods and his place in the world. Along with taking his little sister Heidi as his last disciple, he also chooses to take the more political path in his efforts to end the discord throughout the land—particularly within Terra. (And gaining favor from the handsome Lord of Ultimos does not hurt.)

Heidi butts heads with everyone in the group, save Raine, and tensions are higher than ever. There are failed love confessions, in-group fighting, and demons from Kira’s past but that all comes to a head when they meet a servant of Shakti who is more than what she seems.

Could it be that the Mistresses of Shadow are more nuanced than previously believed? Or that the strict dichotomy between light and dark are, perhaps, a touch exaggerated? That and more begin to plague Pangu’s mind and his faith wavers…

Full chapter 11 under the cut

Chapter XI:

Negotiations had, so far, lasted for three consecutive days. The past two days saw Pangu and all of his disciples, along with the lords of Meala and Alf, sitting in a circle on the floor of the main hall, talking through every possible outcome of an alliance with Viren. Sometimes, things would get heated when Evie, especially, raised concerns and worries for the people being forced under new rules and a way of life they did not agree to. Every time, Pangu would sit, silent, and listen while taking notes, promising to add every point to the letter.

The letter, itself, had been written, re-written, edited, and re-written again at least seven times—each version being more fine tuned and precise.

But, there still seemed to be no end so the disciples, having grown tired of sitting around and, essentially, contributing nothing, decided to leave Pangu by himself on the third day. So far, they had seen what the process was like and they knew he would be safe in there without them.

While he was holed up in the lord’s abode, they took to the streets of Kuniser to do some exploring.

Kira was pretty sure Pangu was glad for their absence anyway—he probably got more work done. Or, at least, he did not have to sit there and worry that one of them (Heidi) would say something out of line at any moment. It was almost funny how she had taken that position from the second disciple. Although, when Kira compared the things he had done and said in the past, he started to wonder if his offenses were even really that bad.

At the very least, he knew when to say something catty under his breath.

Heidi’s bluntness and lack of tact regarding social situations was not the only thing on Kira’s mind as he stared at her from across the market plaza.

Since they had, collectively, decided to leave Pangu to his own devices, the woman had been attached to Raine’s hip. She picked out jewelry from one of the stalls, holding each piece up to her own body while Raine nodded occasionally, giving his feedback.

Kira was not alone in his viewing of the two. Baiya stood right beside him, although he was far less invested in the scene across the way.

“You know,” he said as he shuffled through the selection of beads and crafts before them, “if you squint really hard, you can pretend Heidi is just Pangu.”

Kira’s eyes narrowed and he jerked his head over to address Baiya. “That has to be about the dumbest idea I have ever heard. Possibly the dumbest thing you have ever said. Which has some heavy contenders.”

Baiya rolled his eyes and decided not to take the bait and fight him. Instead, he suggested, “Or, you could go over there and join them.”

“You go over there.” Kira did not skip a beat.

“No, you go.”

“No, you.”

The Agni disciple nearly argued back again but then he closed his mouth and crossed his arms. With his scarred eyebrow arched, he subverted Kira’s expectations. “Maybe I will.”

Yet, Kira did not respond with any flavor of surprise. Rather, he seemed quite doubtful. “Last I noticed, you were still pissed at her for the supply town incident.”

Of course, as the Terran menace was the only one Baiya could vent to about the topic, he was the only one who knew. And, while he was technically correct, Baiya did not appreciate the fact being wielded against him in such a way.

“Don’t bring that up.”

“What are you going to do about her knowing your secret anyway?” Kira carried on despite the upset, “Are you not worried she will say it at any moment?”

Baiya’s eyes narrowed until they were practically gone.

He did not especially have anything to say since Kira, pretty much, covered the expanse of his worries. With Heidi’s rather loose lips, it was a constant threat that she would just blurt it out, perhaps even without intending to. Still, he did not like to think about it if he could help it as constant fretting would only give him gray hairs.

“…Do you think she is telling Raine right now?” Kira tossed the idea into the air as they both watched the other pair—talking and sharing a quiet laugh.

Baiya’s eye twitched. “Looks to me like she is just flirting.”

“But your secret is soooo much more interesting.” The tone of Kira’s voice changed to a higher pitch, causing him to look over. In front of the Terran disciple’s face was a child’s toy—some cloth doll with cold, dark eyes that Baiya could only describe as soulless and off putting.

He raised his arm up, in defense, while stepping away. “Get that thing out of my face. Put it back where you found it.”

“Does it bother you?” Kira grinned and bounced the doll around closer. “Do not tell me you are one of those people with an irrational fear of dolls, Baiya. How embarrassing; what would Pangu think?”

To show he had no fear, only irritation, Baiya swatted the doll and, by extent, Kira’s arm away. “You know, I could bring up plenty of your secrets to harass you with too.”

“Plenty?” Kira scoffed. “I only have one left.”

“Only one?” He found that hard to believe.

The other disciple stood his ground, finally setting the doll back onto the vendor’s cart and resting his hands on his hips. “Yeah, just one. I care little about hiding all the people we have thrown in ditches together—I just keep my lips sealed for your stupid sake since you do not want Pangu thinking badly of you.”

“That is—” Baiya attempted to come back with something but was interrupted by a voice at his side.

“Excuse me.” The intrusion caused them both to turn around in sync. It was not often they could be snuck up on but, considering the bustling nature of the market plaza, it was difficult to be aware of every single person. Luckily, the man who called out to them did not seem to be a threat. He held out an envelope and asked, “Song Raine Sei?”

Kira took the letter. “Yeah, that is me.”

The courier smiled and ran off, giving them their privacy back.

Baiya immediately looked down to Kira. “Are you seriously going to open Raine’s mail?”

“No.” he rolled his eyes dramatically. “I plan on taking it to him.”

Even if he said that, he still looked the letter over in his hand. It was definitely an official letter and the seal on the envelope suggested a lord had written it. Upon further inspection, Kira could say for certain it was from the King of Kyrie.

The two walked across the marketplace, disrupting whatever bit of flirting Heidi was sadly attempting in order to hand over the letter. “A courier mistook me for you—looks important.”

Raine’s face twisted in confusion as soon as he took it. “King Din Raime Cast…? Why would he have sent me a letter?”

“Must be urgent, right?” Baiya guessed.

“Oooh, open it,” Heidi enthused.

Raine was clearly reluctant but also too curious not to. He broke the seal and pulled out the parchment inside. There was only one page which, unfortunately, did not clarify whether this would be good or bad news.

As his eyes scanned over the script, everyone else leaned in, a little bit at a time. “Well?” Kira asked after a moment.

“He asked for aid if we have the time,” Raine repeated the general message, although there was not much context to be lost in. In fact, the details of what he needed help with were incredibly vague. “He fears there is an issue regarding a Chaaya but he is not sure…that is why he wants Pangu’s help.”

“I suppose the news of the necromancer has not reached Kyrie,” Baiya muttered.

“Yes, but couldn’t there be another one?” Heidi asked. “Kira was one before, right? What if Shakti is just making some all over?”

Raine sighed—she was not wrong. “I just worry that, if Pangu hears of this, he will immediately want to head for Kyrie. He is so eager to prove his use now that he will undertake anything.”

“A trip to Kyrie could also clear his head,” Kira offered a difference of view. Personally, he was eager for any adventure that took them out of Terra. Even if the scenery and atmosphere in Meala was worlds away from the plains and hills he was used to, it was still Terra and he could feel it on a gut level.

“It would be my first time seeing the country,” Baiya added with a smile.

“Come on, Raine,” Heidi egged, “Road trip! Road trip!”

The first disciple closed his eyes and knew there was no maneuvering around this. Even if he kept the news to himself, one of them would tell Pangu and, once the Xiang was made aware, he would insist on going. At least to check out the situation.

When Pangu was finally released from his meeting for the day, he looked tired but happy. In a serendipitous turn of events, Dio and Evie had decided to aid Viren and they approved the letter Pangu had written and rewritten many times over the course of the past three days. Everything was set up to be sent back to Ultimos and, other than following behind the carrier falcon, there was nothing else for them to do.

He sat down with his disciples in his room at the inn they had been staying at and kicked his shoes off to better relax. Though his head still throbbed with all of the new information he had taken in, there was relief in it being over for the moment.

The things Pangu had learned about Meala, it’s history, and it’s important cultural fixtures that Dio and Evie wished to preserve through any treaty with Viren, were more vast than his old mentors had ever suggested. From their brief and cursory lessons on the region, Pangu would have guessed the indigenous people were simple or, at least, less structured than the rest of the world. He had been proven ignorant and lacking.

A faint thump pulsed in his brain but he hoped it would ease as the information overload settled in. Thankfully, the joy of succeeded in his negotiations helped to take some of the edge off of the headache.

Raine laid out some food in the meantime which was less of a cohesive meal and more of a collection of snacks from the market outside. Kira and Heidi were the first to take their pick while Baiya collected some of the vegetable heavy dishes together to pass to the Xiang.

Dinner was silent and, once the food was cleared out, Raine retrieved the letter from his King. “I received this today,” he told Pangu and passed the paper over. “We do not have to go but I figured you should have a chance to decide.”

The other disciples either leaned in or held their breath as the Xiang read. His eyes scanned over the page in a matter of seconds and his brow started to knit together.

“This is from the King?”

“Yes.”

“It is quite vague.”

Raine sighed and took the page back. “He does not appear to know the details of the situation. Or, he worried about including them in a letter that would pass through another country to reach me.”

That made sense so Pangu started to nod. “It must be a desperate situation for him to reach out to you when he knows your position.”

“I figure he must also believe your power as Xiang would be helpful as well,” Raine added.

He paused but then resumed his nodding. Kira leaned even closer. “So…? What is the verdict?”

“Road trip?” Heidi asked with restrained enthusiasm and then stuck her bottom lip out.

Pangu gave a small smile. “After I send off my falcon for Viren, we can leave for Kyrie. If we come across any miasma we missed on the way over, we can stop and take care of it.”

“You are sure?” Raine asked, regarding the Xiang with concern. Of course, he knew that he would want to go and there would likely be no way to talk him out of it but he still worried. He knew from experience how badly pushing oneself too hard could turn out. He did not wish to see the same thing happen to Pangu.

***

The last three disciples were notably more excited about the trip than the Xiang but that enthusiasm did not last as long once they were on the road. Kira kept having to remind himself that he would soon be out of Terra but the country’s territory just kept stretching out in front of them. Then, the weather changes were frustrating Heidi who could not figure out when to remove her outer robe as it kept swaying from one temperature to the other. Baiya went mostly silent—especially after Pangu kept muttering to himself about his concern for Viren. Knowing that the Xiang’s focus was still on the Ultimos Lord was quite disheartening.

Raine was the only one who had expected this exact outcome. It was because they had not talked through their issues as he had wanted them to. Traveling to Kyrie could not act as a distraction when all of their same problems were traveling with them, in their hearts. It was not as if, once they passed the border, all would be forgotten.

Kira only wished that were the case. As the sun began to set, it became abundantly clear that they would not be escaping Terra’s grips by the end of the fifth day of travel. He had never seen so much of the country before this past week and he had lived there for most of his life.

While he understood they could not simply speed through, pushing their mounts and themselves to the limits, he did feel they were taking a few too many breaks. Heidi’s training could have been cut a little shorter, at least, he considered. She was decent enough with her element and, if Pangu insisted she needed more work then it could have waited until after they passed the Kyrie border.

In the meantime, Kira sparred with Raine and Baiya, keeping in top form and also needing to expend some of his anxious energy into something. The closer they came to the border, without passing it, the more unease started to settle into his chest.

Already, he requested—privately—that Pangu take them a little further north in order to avoid one of his old childhood towns. They would wind up passing through another place familiar to him but, at least, he had never stayed there with his mother.

As the less populated border town came into view, Kira gulped regardless. All things considered, he had been living there not too long ago as it was home to one of the first hideouts he had procured after fleeing the military. His saving grace, he hoped, was that he had lost quite a bit of color in his skin and, perhaps, because of that, no one would recognize him.

The wooden shacks of houses were just as he remembered as well as the half paved path winding between buildings—pebbles focused more on the Kyrie side and dirt on the Terran side. Accordingly, there was a Terran flag flying at one end and a Kyrie flag on the opposite. A couple of soldiers, from either military, milled about which was definitely a change from the last time Kira was there although they did not seem particularly militant.

In fact, the soldiers barely gave them more than a weak salute. At least, until they spotted Raine and then their backs straightened and they greeted the group more properly.

“Song Raine Sei,” one of the Kyrie soldiers, naturally, addressed him directly. After a deep bow, he looked to Pangu, “and the Xiang. What I can do for you?”

Raine looked to the horizon, at the disappearing sun and large, pink clouds that were, already, losing their glow. “Point us into the direction of the inn, for the night. In the morning, we can meet with whoever is in charge.”

“I can arrange that,” the soldier easily agreed and then shuffled around, his eyes bouncing from one end of the town to the other, just about able to scan the entire place with that simple motion. “To the inn…follow me.”

“It really is like a power of his,” Heidi mumbled under her breath as she kept her eyes on the star-struck soldier.

They were taken to one of the larger buildings on the main road. Unlike those around it, there were two stories and parts of it were reinforced with newer wood, evident by the brighter hue and lack of tarnish. A balcony wrapped around, up top, and a couple stood there, watching the group as they walked inside.

Kira turned his head away, unsure if he actually recognized the two or if his paranoia was getting the better of him. No one else had noticed as they were most likely too tired to think of anything besides crashing onto a cot and, for that, Kira was grateful.

Just one more day, he told himself.

#the xiang chronicles #my novel #my writing

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lalitsethia101 · 1 year

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Title: "Unveiling the Flaws and Benefits of Instagram Paid Verified Accounts: A Reflection by Lalit Sethia"

I wanted to delve into a topic that has been making waves in the Instagram community - the paid verification feature. As an avid observer of the platform and an advocate for authenticity, I feel compelled to share my thoughts on the flaws and benefits of Instagram paid verified accounts. So, let's embark on this insightful journey together.

Benefits of Instagram Paid Verified Accounts: When it comes to credibility and trust, nothing quite compares to the power of a verified badge. It's like a shining beacon, guiding your followers and potential collaborators towards your genuine self. A verified badge inspires trust by reassuring others that you can be trusted in this vast digital landscape. Improved visibility is another great benefit that comes with the coveted "Verified" badge. With a verified account, your content will get more exposure in search results and research sites. This increased visibility means your posts are featured, allowing you to reach a wider audience and share your unique perspective with the world. As an influencer, the advantages of a verified account are many. Brands and businesses are naturally drawn to verified accounts as they are seen as industry leaders, influencers, or standouts. With a verified badge, you open the door to exciting collaborations and potential partnerships that can take your impact to a new level. Finally, let's not lose sight of the importance of protecting against identity theft. Unfortunately, even in the digital realm, there are malicious actors who want to emulate and damage your hard-earned reputation. However, with verification, you get an extra layer of security that protects your brand image from scammers and ensures that your followers are interacting with you authentically.

Flaws and Limitations: Now, let's address a concern that has been voiced by many dedicated influencers who invest significant time and effort into creating engaging content. It's disheartening for them to witness accounts with minimal followers receiving the verified badge while their own accounts, despite their hard work, remain unverified. This situation highlights a few key issues.

Inequality and Unfairness: The verification process can sometimes appear to be unfair, as it seems to prioritize follower count rather than content quality or engagement. Influencers who pour their heart and soul into creating exceptional content, fostering genuine connections with their audience, may feel overlooked and undervalued when they see accounts with only a handful of followers receiving verification. This creates an uncomfortable sense of inequality within the platform.

Limited transparency: Instagram's verification criteria can be a bit unclear, leaving many influencers unsure of the exact requirements needed to earn the coveted verification badge. This lack of transparency can be frustrating and has influencers wondering what steps they need to take to improve their chances of being verified.

Cost of participation: The current system puts a lot of emphasis on the number of followers rather than the quality of an influencer’s interaction with their audience. In fact, engagement is often a better indicator of an account's authenticity and influence than follower count. Influencers who invest substantial time and effort into fostering meaningful connections and interactions with their followers may feel undervalued when they see less-engaged accounts being verified solely based on their follower count.

Aspirations and Motivation: The disparity between hardworking influencers without verification and accounts with fewer followers obtaining the verified badge may demotivate aspiring creators. It sends a message that follower count, rather than content quality and audience engagement, is the primary determinant of success on Instagram. This can discourage talented individuals from pursuing their passion and may hinder the platform's overall diversity and creativity.

Conclusion: While the flaws and limitations surrounding Instagram's paid verification feature can be disheartening for hardworking influencers, it is important to remember that the pursuit of success is not solely defined by a verified badge. True influence is based on real connections and the impact an influencer has on their audience. Instagram should strive to create a grading process that honors these deeper connections and provides an equal chance to recognize deserving creators. Until then, influencers must remain focused on creating exceptional content, nurturing their audience, and building a thriving community built on trust and engagement.

Join Fast Our Digital Marketing Classes and Visit www.lalitsethia.com

#smo training #digital marketing class #seo training #digital marketing

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im-invisible-erased · 1 year

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So for like the past two days this person has been messaging me on twitch whispers. giving me “advice” on what to do with my channel... and like the advice makes sense but I had to hit them with the “This is too expensive right now, and I’d rather not cheap out on emotes/starting screens/ending screens etc.” Them: Its not expensive you can find cheap. You can always just get cheaper ones to start out with. (my internal perfectionist screaming... if you’re not gonna do it right the first time just don't’ bother, like I had emotes that I made sloppily and didn’t keep any of them except one that I just genuinely like.) But obviously I’m in the process of trying to get to a point where I could commission a friend to do all these things.

And I explained that it just wasn’t in my budget currently. And they just ignored it so I said “You clearly don’t understand the poverty struggle do you? When I say I can’t afford even 50 dollars right now I mean it. Between bills and rent. and Feeding myself and my cats. Without proper income to break even with these cost...I can’t invest anything else into a hobby that makes me 0 dollars an hour currently.”

after that I found the “do not accept whispers from strangers” function on twitch.

Like I understand all these things would make my channel more appealing. Having a proper banner. Having good emotes. Having a good Starting soon/Ending Screens. Cleaning up the panels to be more streamlined. Having a proper BRB screen. (which I actually did the panels and BRB screen downloaded from a free overlay pack)

But realistically I understand that my channel will never even break 15 consistent viewers. I’ve been on Twitch since before it was Twitch. I’ve been a watcher since 2009 [JustinTV days]. And I’ve been a part time/hobbyist streamer off and on Since August 2013. I had to beg multiple communities to open my stream and mute the tab just to get affiliate. I did that for like 3 months streaming over 200 hours each month just to hit affiliate. If I didn’t network to do that. my stream would be forever 1-2 viewers with an average viewer count of 0.5-1. Because unless i get raided by someone else that is my statistics on most days.

I don’t really care about low views. I don’t care that my community is basically just other peoples community that I am also a part of. I got my one goal to hit affiliate back in September and that’s all I wanted. Like I’m just a little invisible stream. which is honestly the vast majority of channels. Streaming to maybe nobody maybe 1-2 people but I still like to stream so I keep doing it. Not because its profitable or because I have like unrealistic goals with it. Just cause.

Like if I put in more effort did more networking and stuff. I would probably grow but I cba with it all. I’m just a part time streamer and nothing more.

sorry this was just stressing me out and needed to write my thoughts down in a place where I'm invisible.

#personal #some people fucking weird man #who the hell just says all these things to someone you dont' even know #and then when the person explains that its a work in progress and will do things later #they ignore it #if you can't listen to the person and their explanations I'm done with you #venting

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danielleverboski1a · 1 year

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ikeepbookkeeping · 2 years

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10 Things Disruptive Founders do Better Than Anyone Else

In case you hadn’t noticed, 7.6 billion people, and counting are going to need more disruptive businesses and there is no shortage of problems for founders to find, address and produce.

What does it take?

Imagination, persistence and integrity are vital, but the best founders I know possess a unique DNA. Looking back to my first meeting with each of them, they were clearly different. I’ve tried to unpack the 10 defining elements. The je ne sais quoi of disruptive founders should not stay a mystery.

Perhaps this article should serve as a self-awareness checklist for a first-time founder. It may motivate you to get past what is blocking you or encourage you to join a team. If your passion is there and you weren’t born to be a Founder, you may find you can nail it one day.

I’m often asked by people, “what do think about this company, should I invest?” Now that’s a sucker bet, as if I’m wrong, and say “go for it” and it crashes I’m bound to be called an idiot. If it dominates and I say, “perhaps not this one”, and it wins big, well that’s even worse. So why do I help people? More on that later.

Unfortunately, there is no Entrepreneur by numbers book, magic bullet or even a course you can take that will make you a disruptive founder.

What is true disruption? The impact must be felt by millions of people.

Disruption might be best described as either creating a brand-new market, or a vastly more efficient process, distribution or logistics methodology to reach millions. But a better product alone is not disruptive, it must change the way the industry works, in fact it is a bit of a win lose situation.

Is Tesla disrupting the car industry, or fossil fuels?

Is Google disrupting advertising, distribution of information or libraries?

Is Amazon disrupting books, the post man, retail or the entire workforce?

Perhaps it is more about the way business is done, than the product. The word itself infers it changes behaviour of consumers. However, it is more than that, it changes the financial model for the participants in the industry.

Radically impacting utility or enjoyment is not the threshold for being disruptive. It is not enough to be better, cheaper or faster it must be fundamental shift in behaviour and market position. Its the habits of the successful entrepreneurs that differentiates them from the rest.

Here are the 10 attributes I have found in successful founders.

1. Competitive Mongrel. (as in fiercely competitive)

“Winning is addictive” my Mum told me when I was 10. The relentless comparisons between sport and business is a convenient way to remind us that if you want to be the best, be prepared to put in a herculean effort. Only then, can you create a market leading position. It’s not where you have come from, but what you are willing to do to get there. Every successful founder I have worked with since 1999, has a unique blend of competitive mongrel, mixed with lashings of the other qualities, but for me, it starts with mongrel.

Matt Barrie, CEO of Freelancer Limited, states the fact that “an A Grade Team with a B grade idea will always beat a B grade team with an A Grade idea”. Emphasis on the word beat.

The first time I met Matt, in 2009, I was quizzing him on his game plan and he reminded me of a well drilled coach, who had prepared the game plan, and I knew he was going to win. Just quietly, he knew he would too.

If you want to change the world, you are going to get some knockers. Australia is famous for its ��Tall Poppy” syndrome. When Matt won Entrepreneur of the Year, the very next day he came to see me, with a copy of the BRW magazine which had emblazoned his picture.

He wrote on it to me “I couldn’t have done it without you (yet)”. Nothing short of relentless effort will do. As competition heats up, the best double their efforts. Watch this space.

Being competitive does not need to be a selfish trait. Helping the community and giving back is a common trait Matt and all disruptive Founders share, but this characteristic is not unique to disruptive founders.

2. They are obsessed with knowledge

Perhaps obsession is not a strong enough word for disruptive founders in this category. Mitch Harper deeply understands the problem. Mitch has lived it, dreamt about it, and is obsessed with it. However, knowledge is not gained for consulting purposes but to execute his game plan.

With this supreme knowledge, that only a few have obsessed over, a disruptive founder will enlighten their team, attain viral growth and sustain that velocity.

They rarefy the group with their knowledge, whether on the art of hiring, managing cash like a well-oiled treasury and allocating resources to provide infinite optionality. Will they need to raise capital? No, they will be hunted down by VCs.

Mitch Harper, Co-Founder of BigCommerce, one of Australia’s world class tech companies, exhibits this quality. I am lucky enough to see Mitch in action, and this guy knows his stuff.

Mitch has gone on to launch a new company that implements the competitive advantage his obsession with knowledge has provided. In building yet another successful business, he has found a major problem and is now obsessed with this problem too.

This desire to attack problems and obsession with detail, or as Mitch calls it, “differentiation by design” is straight out of the Harper playbook. Watch this space for yet another world class company.

3. Ruthless honesty

Whilst I believe ethics are the new black, nice girls don’t have to finish last. Founders who are caught making false promises, treating staff as expendable, or relying on gouging suppliers are destined to fail.

It is the perception of value, rather than the scientific cost benefit analysis, that engages customers exponentially.

Naomi Simson, founder of RedBalloon demonstrated ruthless honesty. The problem with offering experiences in a marketplace is the perception that customers must to be paying more if they buy via a middle man.

Naomi’s clever solution was a fully transparent promise that vendors of experiences will not supply an experience to anybody cheaper than on the RedBalloonwebsite. Naomi told me she turned small businesses into bigger businesses allowing people to focus on their passions, and leave the marketing, back end etc to us. Pretty cool.

The simplicity of treating customers as intelligent consumers worked wonders. I later celebrated with Naomi and some friends over a well-earned single malt, when she went on to share her knowledge on Shark Tank.

4. Curiosity…better again, they just work it out.

The most common question I am by first time founders as a mentor is “what should I focus on?”

“Should I read blogs, books, go do a course, hang out at meet ups?” My answer is “you have to work it out!” “What’s the one thing that would make the biggest difference to your business or knowledge, in 90 days and just obsess about that and get it done.”

Most disruptive founders, know this already. He or she has already worked this out. If you don’t already know this — you are probably feeling the anxiety of the process. Go with what you feel. Go! Be Nike — just do it…

Katherine Pace and Aimee Atkins from ELANATION ask questions of smarter people, and listen intently. The ladies spent months walking around talking to kids asking them impressions of their prototype. “Kids are super honest.” The feedback and research they obtained was worthy of a thesis on child psychology and behavioral sciences. If a kid stopped playing the game or approached it a different way, they learned to iterate by seeing it through their eyes. They worked it from every aspect of the industry including psychology, the best operators, parent forums, school interactions and policies with gaming.

But they didn’t stop there. They scrutinized global trends, pricing, and the type of investor who might like what their team was doing. Nothing was left to chance. “I was lucky enough to mentor them and see them become amazing (by any standard) at pitching, launch their product and now scale — Their products are now sold in 101 stores across Australia and growing.

Matt Dickinson, is a king of arbitrage. He recognises patterns, and has a black belt in research. He is expert at overlaying systems and data, has courage to burn and executes with precision.

Matt is widely regarded as an amazing Growth Hacker. Matt has always been considered one of the best mentors in Startmate, and in fact helped get me started with my obsession with scaling companies upon joining Startmate too.

5. They back themselves

Hardly surprisingly, when hiring, bootstrapping, raising or scaling, disruptive founders have an innate belief that they can nail the job at hand. A backward step is not an option, at least in any exchange.

This should not be confused for arrogance, but in any situation, from asking someone on a date, to merging in peak hour traffic or anything tough, if you believe, people will fall in. I’m not describing a pathological optimist here because the founder will also possess many or even all of the 10 characteristics to back up the confidence.

In one meeting I organised for a new founder, Manuri Gunawardena of HealthMatch exhibited true grit. On that day, seven highly credentialed industry experts, including Private Equity Investors heard her pitch.

Unfortunately, one of the attendees proceeded to tell the founder her silly little start-up had no chance, nor did she. He spent the next ten minutes cutting her down, explaining how she didn’t understand the industry, the process, the costs involved and how she was simply wasting her time and everyone in the rooms too.

Just as I said “that’s quite enough mate,” he told me he was finished anyway. Having glanced at the founder to see if she was ok, she gave me a slight nod and added. “I accept your points, but don’t agree it can’t be done.”

Then, in the same order of the 10 criticisms, she articulately recounted how she would deal with each of his insurmountable hurdles. In my view, she sat him on his backside. Needless to say, if I wasn’t already an investor, that sealed the deal. Sure, this wasn’t going to be easy, but a disruptive CEO won over some experts in the health sector that day.

6. They have gravitas and build culture

Culture is often defined as what the business does, but it’s hard to create and maintain a great culture and many people simply give it lip service. “Create a movement, not a job” says Dean McEvoy, Founder of Spreets and now CEO of Tech Sydney. The culture he established in Spreets created a buzz in the office. Camaraderie and equity allocation was spot on. Next stop, hyper-growth and the rest was history. Doing something that will be change the world, disrupt an industry and create excitement in the business is a super power of disruptive founders. Overnight success is a myth. It is by establishing routines, recognising patterns (in multiple contexts), perpetual iteration and audacious tenacity that disruptive founders rise to the top.

Not surprisingly, the members of the team Dean assembled have gone on to so many other successful companies. Dean’s next challenge; reinvent how buildings are valued, produce a guaranteed income for a new restaurant.

Enter Icon Park, the highest grossing crowd sourced restaurant and building in a new type of partnership. Enthusiasm is infectious and so is Dean. The challenge of the unknown, pushing yourself and having fun while you are doing it is winning formula. I love the mantra Ray Dalio mentions in his book Principles, “I’m motivated by doing meaningful work and creating meaningful relationships.” Perhaps this best encapsulates the concept of culture, or at the least is a great blueprint for you to build your own.

7. They imagine a better world — aka Vision

The great John Lennon and Dr. Martin Luther King imagined or dreamt the world into a frenzy. Matt Barrie of Freelancer also nailed this category! “Why should a person in San Francisco or Bucharest, Romania with identical skills, have a 10x difference in living standards?” Matt asked me. “why are they not able to feed their family, or commence a start up without a prohibitive financial hurdle, breach geographical access to markets?” Matt demanded. In disruptive style, Freelancer listed on the Australian Stock Exchange, not NASDAQ. Reinvigorating Australia as a tech hub, attracting talent and slowing the exodus across the Pacific was also extremely out there. Freelancer Limited continues to empower a world without borders and safely settles transactions, managing cyber security risks with their business Escrow Inc.

8. They recognize their blind spots

Access to information, fast, has never been better. Whether for the sake of excellence or a better use of the Founders’ time, this element is a must. Not believing your own B.S. is critical.

Self-awareness of your blind spots takes courage and builds trust with your team. It’s ok to not know everything. A mentor can often help here, but it starts with the truth. Obviously, recognizing the blind spots is the first step to a cure.

I won’t point to a founder here, but frankly no one is perfect. This category overlaps many of the others mentioned and is compensated abundantly by the ability to execute. I will mention myself in this category, and what I do. It’s about strategy, or as I call it CEO as a Service or CaaS. I am typically talking to six founders a day and you get good at asking questions that unlock value.

These blind spots can then be fixed. Common discussions include problems with a raise, the sizzle in a pitch deck, staff concerns (hiring, firing) or pricing.

Other things that need to be addressed are the business model, signing up corporate partners, negotiation with VC and almost always plugging in my network. It’s simply what I love to do. Living it, learning and sharing in equal doses with fellow mentors — yep, I’m obsessed.

9. They are a bit crazy, yep they are whacko.

I’ve heard Niki Scevak, Co -Founder of BlackBird Ventures, and co-Founder of Startmate, say dozens of times, “I look for a founder that’s a bit out there or crazy.” No rational person wants attention for so many dysfunctional reasons. The suffering a founder endures is huge.

Whilst in my experience, it’s almost become “cool” to be a Founder and a Start-up is the old “I have a shell” in public company parlance, it’s not for everyone. If you really want to change the world, take on the big corporates, expose your weaknesses, do more with less, surrender yourself to relentless days, weeks, months, hell — years of torture and suffering you just might have what it takes.

10. They are system and process thinking devotees but they “just get it” too.

Dr Matthew Cullen, Founding CEO of Tonic Health Media is a system or process thinker. The right task, done at the right time by the right person sounds simple in theory. “At the outset of a new business, I have to do everything myself,” says Cullen. Only once a task is done, the process can be mapped. If it critical to be part of the machine going forward, it can then be delegated.

“In the early phase of a business I hire assuming the person has the right skills and is a culture fit for an 18-month stint, if they can evolve, and they stay longer, that’s a bonus.” A common problem in early phase businesses is that founders fall in love with their product, they don’t recognize that their role and indeed that of the CEO requires a different approach, personnel, mindset at a 1, 10, 100 and 1000 employee companies. Cullen says “it’s the same innovative and disruptive thinking but wrapped into a clear process and approach to implement the right activities and strategies at various stages or life cycle of the business. The way I work in the early days is very different as the business progresses from early to mid and late phase. A key dimension in all of this is working out where you add the most value and delegate progressively those areas where you add the least value.”

Dr Cullen was also Founder and CEO of McKesson Asia Pacific which was sold to Medibank Private in 2010 for $140 million. He built the company to a turnover of $75 million with 700 staff across Australia and New Zealand. It is often said that some people can start a company, but different skills are required to scale one. Process thinking with 18 month sprints. Quite simply, it’s something disruptive founders do better than anyone else. Meanwhile, I have observed Dr. Cullen treating his team with respect and all stakeholders with humility he executes double digit growth Year on year at Tonic Health Media.

The Big Picture

Whilst I don’t know if entrepreneurs have different neural pathways, they don’t always come from adversity. It isn’t obvious, or easy to spot one at first. Perhaps the above 10 elements can be used as a ready reckoner/checklist or at least a starting point to seeing yourself as a disruptive founder.

Is this you? Well get on with it.

So, who am I?

“Create the future,” is not coincidentally the name of my new blog. It is what excites me. My own disruptive journey of starting in an age-old business, accounting, was by accident, when I couldn’t decide what to do after school. My stepfather (at the time) said, “Chartered accountants will inherit the earth.”

I had no idea what this meant at 18, but know as a coach to entrepreneurs, I have found my calling. On day one, or perhaps a week into my career, I had decided pure accounting was not for me. I couldn’t see myself adding up numbers and focusing on the minutia. Perhaps otherwise I would have never discovered the world of growing companies, CEOs, negotiating partnerships, developing talent and doing deals. Working with some of the smartest people who have inspired, taught and befriended me has been a blessing. If I haven’t mentioned you specifically, trust me, I have appreciated what you have taught me.

So, whether you are a new founder, scaling or about to IPO, your growth as a person is the vanguard of the prosperity of your company and everyone in your life. The freedom this brings will fulfil you, give you more time for the things you love. You too can build a disruptive business.

The world you envisage won’t just happen, you have to create the future.

If you would like some help, check out setup a time and we can have a chat. Ask us how our Virtual CFO services have helped many entrepreneurs learn how to set up a business goal and maximise growth.

#VCFO Services

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solarstellarstar · 2 years

Text

A Letter Addressed to No One || dialover OC shortfic

Written by Lady Sakamaki Beatrix

Summary: A letter from Beatrix that doesn't have a clear recipient, but a lot of her personal feelings are disclosed. Warnings: none (the fic is SFW but obviously there's a process of how babies are made- it's only implied and nothing is described) Word count: 783 Author's notes: Lore dump time! I find it really fun to reveal tidbits of my OC's backstories by writing them out in little fics (if you can even call this one) of some sort. If you do actually get to read to the end, I'd like to ask you something: did you see this coming? Note that this is heavily edited from canon like all fanfictions are-

No matter how many times I am going to be told that I'm a "filthy courtesan that not even the best man could silence the greed that boils inside me" by that woman, I simply will not believe it. I am not a courtesan and... I'm certainly sure that everyone is greedy deep down inside somehow.

First things first, let me make this absolutely clear: Karl Heinz is my one and only husband. What I did does not (in no way, shape or form) renounce the love and utmost respect I hold for him.

What I did was simply me being nostalgic. Do I regret doing so? Yes. Do I wish I could abandon the thing that was produced of it? No.

I have made many mistakes during my lifetime and by writing this letter, I hope that it can explain (not justify) why I chose what I did to do.

I originally derive from the Kanemoto clan where my parents housed me and my sister. It was quite obvious who held their favour the most. My sister is a very pretentious woman, but she does have her own fair share of talent. Most, if not all, of the men that sought out our family, were just to request her hand in marriage. For some reason, she had turned every single one of them down.

As someone who had grown by her side all my life, I believe I can understand why she did so. Eventually, constantly being overwhelmed by an abundance of marriage proposals can invite unwanted distress.

So when my parents suddenly arranged for me to marry a man, that just supplied me with many more questions than answers. Why me?Why not... her?

Upon meeting this man officially for the first time, he actually was quite a humorous fellow. Although he was awkward and made me question why I was going to marry such a frivolous person, this man actually made me feel feelings of security and affection even though we never met outside of arranged dates and meetings by our family.

You can only imagine how I felt when we found out that he met the unfortunate fate of being murdered. It was really one of the darkest moments I had ever lived. We were only told that by his family, so not once have I ever got to see him one last time. No ceremony celebrating his life was held and his gravestone was nowhere to be found.

Obviously after experiencing such a dreadful loss, I refused to invest any more time or energy into such relationships. I could never love again.

Or so I thought.

It happened when I was still mourning the lost time I had invested into love. "Fantastic, another man that seeks my sister." I thought to myself.

That man turned out to be Karl Heinz.

I will not get into the details, but what happened was like some sort of miracle. Of course, I still had some doubts when I found out he sought out me- not my sister. Why me? Why not... her?

It was like all my grief and sorrow were swept and washed away by him alone. There were a few impediments- but I must not question his choices as I'm sure he has a valid reason why.

Centuries into the marriage and having 2 dear sons, I suddenly received news that my first fiancé was alive.

I am not sure what came over me, perhaps it was desperation for me to live my youth once again (I didn't even question why or how this has come to be) but I immediately set off to meet my first love.

There he was, alive and well. Nothing could make up for all that effort we had lost and was destroyed.

One thing led to another in our reunion and that's how I came to carry my third child.

There was absolutely no way under any circumstances that I would endanger the child by revealing her to the Sakamaki household, meaning I decided to hand the girl over to my sister.

I may have birthed the child but I cannot raise her or love her as my own. As much as I want to love her as the child I had with my first love, she cannot be my daughter.

Which means she cannot call me 'mother' once.

She cannot hold my hand once.

My last wish for my sister is to not make the same mistake I had already made when raising Shu and Reiji. That's all I ever ask for.

My sister decided to give her the name 'Lily', isn't it beautiful? She even has my eyes.

#// aka basically: SCREW KARL HEINZ.#diabolik oc #diabolik lovers oc #dl oc #diabolik lovers fanfiction #beatrix sakamaki #lunar kanemoto #lily kanemoto

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Text

Honey dripping

Yandere! Jumin Han x reader

tw: nsfw, murder, non-con, dub-con, mentions of cheating, mentions of blood, slight sugar daddy vibe, dirty talk, degradation, mention of threats

Summary: Your boyfriend provides everything for you and the only thing he expects in return is your love and loyalty. So of course when you fail to give him that, he gets a little angry.

It was useless - all your struggling and pained little pants. Nothing could stop the brutality unfolding before your eyes, glossy with tears. They were red and sore from the crying, but your despair wasn’t enough to melt his cold black heart. You knew that it was your fault and now someone had to pay the price. You couldn’t deny it, not when it was obvious to the outside gaze exactly what had happened while your loving caretaker was away, working hard to support you and give you anything your heart desired. The bed was messy with the white sheets all crumbled and the smell of adultery in the air still heavy and thick. No pretty words and sweet talking could get you out of the sticky situation this time around.

“Please, tell them to stop!” You whispered, looking at Jumin with the big doe eyes you used when you wanted something to go your way. You even gently touched his hand, trying to wrap your fingers around his to calm him down, only to be met with a cold empty stare of disgust in return. It pierced through your heart like a thousand sharp arrows and your throat tightened in fear as you watched the bussinessman’s bodyguards beat your lover into a sweaty mess of flesh, snot and blood, weeping on the floor. The poor unfortunate soul was two punches away from the afterlife and there was no one to blame, but yourself. Shivers ran through your body from the cold and you realized you were still half - naked, the only thing protecting your most intimate parts being the oversized shirt of the dying man. Jumin glared at you for a long moment, studying the soft features of your delicate face before making an important decision.

“Kill him.” He finally ordered, voice monotone and unbothered by the inhuman whim. With a quick snap of his slender fingers the CEO-in-line had your paramour lifeless, dead on the ground. It happened so fast you found it hard to process down the murder, despite seeing clearly the unmoving figure and all the red sticky liquid he was drowned in. A hard lump stuck at the back of your throat, making it hard to swallow or even breathe, but the panic rising in your chest went unnoticed by Jumin, who was ready to turn his full attention to you, pining you with his cruel gray eyes. “I thought you were different.” He started off slowly, moving closer to you. “You were always so sweet and innocent I almost fell for your little tricks.” The man smiled bitterly, the sadness reflecting in his pupils as he took another step towards you. Now you could feel his big hands grabbing at your hips, drawing you in, and his hot breath on your neck - but he didn’t bite just yet. “I should have known better, that’s on me. After all you are just like those women who use my father for his money and status.” He whispered into your ear as he dig his nails deep into you bare thighs, squizing the naked flesh roughly. “You may be a cheap lying whore, but I still love you.” The bussinessman scratched at the vulnerable skin on your lower body before placing a small wet kiss on your collarbone. “I have invested so much in you, darling, but you seem to have forgotten that.” Jumin finally raised his head, smashing his lips onto yours, pushing his tongue all the way in, leaving you breathing hard and brushing off the saliva running down your chin. “I will teach you what happens when you forget your place, kitten.”

WIth that the man dragged you towards the unmade bed, a harsh reminder of your betrayal, and despite all your squirming and pulling away, begging him to let you go, soon he had you pinned onto the mattress with your wrists trapped beneath his. The director wasted no time in ripping apart the clothing, soaked with the smell of another man. The swift aggressive move left you fully exposed and bare in front of the hungry lustful monster, the fear and andrenaline in your veins turning everything into a hazy mess of ugly emotions and silent sobs. You tried to close your legs, but the attempts to cover yourself were fruitless as the rich man simply tied your thighs, spreading you all to himself. Jumin couldn’t help running a finger up your slit, circling the small sensitive bud in the center until he felt your walls clench around his forefinger, and eventually it came out wet.

“How interesting.” The director stated, smirking with malice. “I thought you didn’t love me anymore, but your body is pointing otherwise.” You whimpered at his words, but your body gave you away as your hips rocked in the air in hopes of finding more stimulation. “I just killed your lover and your wet little pussy still wants me to fill it up, kitten.” Jumin started undoing his belt, taking out his member, hard at the sight of you so open and flustered, ripe for the taking. With one hand he groped your breast, messaging it gently, pulling slightly at the stiff raspberry tip, while the other kept fingering you in a steady pace.

“J-jumin!” You cried out in pleasure despite your best efforts to stay quiet while he played with your body like it was just another one of his possessions. It was humiliating, infuriating even, but there was nothing you could do except lay there and take it like a good little doll. You couln’t even fight off the moans coming out of your scarlet lips because his touch felt so good in such a wrong way. “Please, I am sorry! D-don’t do this to me.” You sobbed, letting the logical part of your brain speak as your cunt twitched in the upcoming orgasm that soon washed over you in one powerful wave. It was painfully satisfiying and left you panting heavily, trying to catch your breath.

“You want me to stop?” The bussinessman suddenly pushed the head of his throbbing member into your entrance, but stopped to look you straight in the eyes. There was no sight of defiance in them, only guilt and desperation - and to him you were the prettiest when needy, broken down and obedient for him. The tears were streaming down your face leaving a salty red trace on your puffy cheeks, and he licked it, running his tongue slowly and teasingly on your hot skin. “If you hate it so much, then, perhaps, you won’t come all over my cock like a little slut, yeah?” Jumin replied huskily, sucking and biting at your neck until several lovebites in all shades of blue and purple were formed, like a collar. The man then forced his lenght into your responsive hole without giving you the time to get used to it properly. Your expression changed from pleasure to pain and you whimpered in agony while the CEO-in-line shoved himself mercilessly into your heat, hitting the overstimulated nervs over and over again. Despite the initial discomort and shock your body managed to relax under the rough treatment and after a few minutes you started to arch your back to meet the harsh punishing thrusts.

“Look at you.” He spoke out, the coldness in his voice piercing your skin while you watched the sweat cover his pitch black hair. “ You are moaning like a dumb little slut while I fuck you silly even though you should be fighting be off. ” The director squeezed your tits, rocking his hips faster and faster - he was very close. “And now I am going to blow my load into you and mark you as mine.” The bussinessman kept hitting your sweet spot, abusing the sensitive place with his manhood. “We will do it together, I will count. You are not allowed to come before me.” The man commanded sternly without losing speed or strenght, staring at you with an intense gaze filled with lust, obsession and adoration. “One, two...” He lowered himself onto your tight hole as he kissed you passionately, invading your mouth with his wet tongue. “Three.” Jumin thrusted lastly before releasing the white thick liquid into your pussy. “Cum for me, my love.” He whispered softly into your ear while playing with your hard nipples. “Cum while I fill you up with my seed.” The bussinessmen kept stirring you up, teasing you, until he felt your cunt clench down, throbbing with need. You finally orgasmed, throwing your head back during the high of the terribly delightful sensation. You closed your eyes - there was nothing left to do or say after the violation.

“Your punishment has come to its end now.” You heard his cold voice from far above you and it felt awfully distant but at this point you didn’t care. You just wanted to qucikly fall asleep and drift away to a different place. Somewhere warm and cozy where no one could hurt you. Unfortunately, his last sentence caught your attention. “But if you ever betray me again, I won’t be so loving anymore. What goes around comes around. Beware, darling.”

#male yandere x reader #yandere jumin x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere mystic messenger #yandere jumin han #yandere male x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere fanfiction #yandere smut #yancore #yandere one shot #yandere prompt

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wildingrose · 3 years

Text

spilt tea

dark alley help part 10

part 9: care

word count: 2.8k

》 ignored kink, cunnilingus, oral sex in office

- ✿ -

You sat on the desk in your office cabin while Cindy watched you hold the pile of documents. Your eyes scanned over the lengths of the legal sized papers that contained detailed information on the clients and their wishful properties. Flipping through them and resting the reviewed next to you, your heart froze when coming across the name of one particular client.

Facing the paper her way, you asked, "Him? He's our client?"

Cindy squinted her eyes to read the inked name and nodded. "Yes, it's your fiancé. He's been our loyal client for a long time."

You groaned at the unofficial title. "He's not my fiancé. Never was." That made sense as to how your mother found him and why she really liked him. "Doesn't he have a gazillion properties? Why does he need more?"

"He mentioned that this one was for... a reunion, I believe. It's a new property under construction and will be underway for closing soon."

Your head pounded painfully and your fingers went up to relieve it in circles. Raymond was purchasing a property just for a reunion instead of holding the event at one of his currently owned hotels. That guy was just flexing his money through property ownerships. "Whatever," you mumbled and took a quick glance at the company name that was responsible for the construction. Then, your eyes immediately fixed on where it was located.

It was the block where Taeyong mentioned that he was working at. You hadn't seen the structure yet, and now you were overjoyed to.

"Oh my God," you muttered and hopped off the table, your hand flying to your mouth in utter shock before your shoulders shook and a loud sinister laugh escaped from you.

Cindy watched you in concern as you jumped gleefully in your spot. "Um, Y/N, are you okay?"

While you weren't hundred percent positive for what his reaction was going to be, you couldn't wait to rub it in Raymond's face that he had purchased something where Taeyong had contributed to building. You waved Cindy off with an ecstatic smile. "Yeah, don't worry. I was just thinking about something."

She stared at you for a moment longer before letting it go.

Shortly, a knock on the door was heard, followed by a head popping in. "Can I come in? I have your tea," Chris smiled, shaking an acrylic tumbler with iced tea. "This should help with your headache and slight nausea."

"Thanks a lot. Of course, come in," you waved him in.

He nodded and strode over to you. You retrieved the drink and took a long sip of the tea, humming happily. "Perfect."

"Hope it helps. Also, there's someone waiting for you outside."

"Really? Who?" Your lips connected with the straw and sucked in another long sip.

His brows furrowed as he tried to recall the name. "I think his name is... Taeyong?"

You spurted out your tea in surprise that he came to your workplace in the middle of the day and set the tumbler down on the desk. "It's Taeyong? Bring him in!"

Chris nodded and went to fetch for your man while Cindy eyed you curiously.

Chris stepped into the main area where Taeyong stood by the desks, more specifically by Shannon's desk who wordlessly stared at him. "Hey man, come on in!"

Taeyong straightened his back and cleared his throat, avoiding the gaze of the young woman drilling a hole in his head. Her gaze remained on his retreating figure with a slight frown creasing her forehead.

Your colleague reappeared with the man that you were looking forward to trailing behind. Taeyong smiled subtly as you jogged over to him with a bright smile.

"Baby," you chirped and wrapped your arms around him. He faintly chuckled and held you close, pecking your forehead. You turned around in his arms and found Cindy's jaw hanging low and Chris whistling in amusement. "He's Taeyong, my fiancé-to-be," you introduced him, mainly for Cindy. Taeyong was stunned by the unexpected title but happily accepted it, wanting nothing more than to be bonded with you in the utmost ways possible.

Chris quirked an intrigued brow. "Now that's some real tea right there. Have fun now," he said and with a salute, he walked out the cabin.

Cindy closed her mouth and reminded you of an important task. "Mr. Riley is expecting a call in..." She glanced at her watch. "... about a few minutes. Should I stay here to help you?"

You shook your head. "It's pretty straight forward so I'll be fine. Thanks though."

She nodded and headed to exit the cabin, closing the door behind her to give you privacy.

You pulled away from Taeyong and asked, "I love seeing you here, but how? Don't you have work?"

He pointed to the window in your office. As if on cue, the light droplets shifted to pouring rain outside. "It started onsite, so we had to stop working. Thought I'd come here and see how you're doing."

You hummed. "Good thinking. But I have work to do, so no funny business," you warned with narrowed eyes.

He exhaled out of his nose and nodded, seeming disinterested by your words as he shuffled his feet towards your desk and hopped on. His eyes landed on your tea and picked it up, taking a huge sip and frowned at the bitter taste before setting it back down. Taeyong then scanned his eyes around the cabin, making observations of how clean and polished the walls were with modern design.

You arched an eyebrow at him to which he didn't catch. Was he really going to sit there and not do anything? Good for you. You strolled over to pick up your client's portfolio and cell phone from the desk. "I have an important call to make. Do not make a sound, and no distractions. Understood?"

Taeyong merely shrugged in response, and you began dialing your client's number. While you waited for the call to be answered, you glanced at Taeyong and noticed that he wasn't doing anything except for swinging his leg.

"Hello, this is Riley speaking."

Startled, you fumbled with your greeting. "Oh hi! Good afternoon, Mr. Riley. I'm Y/N L/N and am calling on behalf of my father regarding your interested properties. I'll be taking his place so it will be a pleasure to work with you," you spoke with politeness.

Taeyong huffed and mumbled, "Only I give you pleasure." You smacked his arm.

"I'm sorry? I didn't hear the last part well."

Your eyes widened. "Nothing!" You gave Taeyong a glare and moved away from him, balancing the folder on one hand. "So, I see your investments and interests..."

Taeyong watched you as the call droned on, getting immensely bored without your attention on him, and so he decided to make himself comfortable.

You took a sneak peak to see what Taeyong was up to and did a double take. "I'm sorry but could you please hold on for a moment, sir?" Pressing the mute button, you gritted your teeth. "Taeyong, why are you unbuttoning your shirt?"

He kept moving his fingers downward, undoing the buttons slowly and pushed the flaps to the side for his handsome torso to be on full display. "I'm feeling hot," he said with his voice laced in pure boredom.

You gave him a pointed look. The air conditioner was blasting in your cabin, therefore having no reason for him to feel uncomfortable. You ignored him, turning your back on him and resumed your call, but now you were partly distracted by replaying his beautiful skin in your head.

Taeyong sighed when seeing you ignore him again and hopped off. He rounded the desk and plopped down into the massive leather chair, putting his feet up on the table and rummaged through the drawers to look for anything that could entertain him.

Your ears picked up on the soft sounds of drawers sliding open and shut. There was a brief moment of silence followed by a container lid clicking open. The faint chewing sounds made you turn around and your heartbeat stilled before kicking into full racing mode. You were paying almost zero attention to your client as you watched Taeyong bite into a cherry, the juice spilling out of its flesh and past his lips, traveling down his chin. He made no efforts to wipe it off as he finished the fruit off, spitting out the seed and discarding the stem onto the lid. Picking up another one, he repeated the action, making more of the sweet red juice coat his chin.

You wanted nothing more than to lick his skin clean, and then straddle yourself on his lap to have a heated make out session with him. But you held yourself back and blinked a few times, shaking your head and focused on the reason why you were doing all of this.

When the cherries were all done, Taeyong huffed out in frustration from having nothing else to do, your phone call seeming to run way longer than anticipated.

Just then, his lips curled into a smirk as an idea hit him.

He stalked over to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and you didn't notice his approaching presence from behind until he swiftly bent down to grab your waist from the front and hoisted you over his shoulder, holding you effortlessly by your legs. Your hand lost balance of the folder and it crashed to the floor, and your eyes bulged out as he carried you over to the desk.

He put you down on the table and shoved everything aside with his arm, not giving a glance as to what was being knocked over. Taeyong positioned you until you were laid flat on the sturdy desk and crawled on top of you, bringing his gaze to meet yours. With your mouth agape, you stared at his dark eyes as you were no longer processing a single word that your client spoke.

"Ignore me," he mouthed without a single sound and then he began.

He unbuttoned your shirt enough to expose your bra. Your heart crashed in your chest, fearing for what he had in mind when being in the office with a client on the phone and the door to your cabin left unlocked. But you were thrilled to see what Taeyong was going to do while you 'ignored' him.

His tongue poke out to coat saliva over his cherry-dried lips and dipped his head in between the valley of your breasts, sucking on the skin there with his soft lips sending excitement down to your core as you began producing your own sweet juice. Your hand came up to cover your mouth, stopping your sighs from reaching the speaker. You could have muted your voice and took full advantage of the situation, but this was 'ignore Taeyong' game and you were going through with it to see its end.

"Miss Y/N, are you still there?" Your client's voice snapped you back to your main responsibility.

"Oh sorry. Yes, I am." And with that, he resumed talking.

Taeyong pulled back and observed the faint colour of the fruit transferred onto your skin, and you nearly sighed aloud when he took long strides of his hot wet tongue to lick it clean, your grip on the phone tightening. When done, he pulled back with a smirk, and your eyes blew up when one of the most insane things happened next. Taeyong leveled his face with the zipper of your pants and grasped onto the small sliding piece with his teeth, pulling it down undone with such ease that you thought was not possible with the difficult task.

His hands yanked your pants down along with panties to midway. To prevent the hassle of taking your shoes and pants off completely, he crossed your legs, keeping enough space to dive his head into the opening from underneath. His hands firmly held your legs in place to stop you from squeezing around his head. His face leveled with your glistened core till you felt his hot breath fanning over it. Taeyong was amused to see you turned on and took a deep breath in with his nose touching your sweet flesh. "Smells nice, doll," he whispered ever so softly that you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't completely focused on him. Your legs quivered around his head as you spilled more juice out.

At last, his tongue strode over the length of your heat and your jaw hung open without a single sound parting from your lips. He repeated the action and after dipped his wet muscle in between your slick folds. You used every muscle in you to keep your hips grounded to the smooth surface of the table while your free hand clenched into a tight fist beside you. It would have been at his head gripping his hair, but you weren't sure if that counted as ignoring him.

Your walls hugged him as he began rolling his tongue. A small hum was felt against your flesh, causing your belly to tighten and spill more of your delicious juice onto his tongue. He hungrily lapped up every drop, his moist muscle flicking against your clit that resulted you to slip a mixture of moan and whine past your deep breathings.

"Is everything all right?"

Your blood ran cold when you had momentarily forgotten all about the phone call. Your ears had completely droned out your client's voice to focus on the squelching sounds that your man made in your cunt. Your brain quickly tried to come up with a sound excuse. "Oh um, I spilled something on my desk. I'm sorry about that. Please continue."

Taeyong snickered, sending sinful vibrations throughout your body and further tightened your belly for the incoming orgasm. Unfortunately, another desperate whine escaped from your mouth. Mr. Riley was silent for a moment before speaking up. "I do have another matter to attend. We can end our discussion here for now. I look forward to working with you, Y/N."

Finally! "I see. I will too. Have a great day-" and you quickly ended the call before a pathetic moan could travel through the speaker as Taeyong began having a make out session with your cunt, sucking your throbbing clit in between his lips. Chucking your phone aside, your hands lightly played with the wisps of his dark hair. "Oh Tae," you choked out a quiet sob. Your legs ached and trembled the longer it was forcefully kept open.

"Look at me, doll," he whispered.

You looked down at the sinful view of his head in between your legs. His gaze heavily burned into yours and gave a few harsh sucks, resulting in the final snap of the coil in your stomach. Your vision blurred as your back arched off the surface to generously cum into his mouth. He hummed as he sucked up every drop of your essence, still lapping over your heat even after it was over, and the sensitivity caused you to push his head away. "No more," you weakly whispered.

He kissed your cunt two times before completely pulling his head out, helping you put your pants back on. "You taste so good, doll," he drawled seductively he licked his lips clean.

You smacked his chest, feigning anger as you buttoned up your top. "We would have lost one of our biggest clients if he figured out what I was up to."

"But he didn't. You did a good job ignoring me... for the most part anyways," he snickered.

A series of knocks was heard and the door flew open, revealing an unsuspecting Cindy. Her eyes went on a tour as it scanned over the dropped portfolio on the floor, your shocked eyes on her, Taeyong's disheveled state and open shirt, and the mess on the desk.

She huffed out at the sight of drenched documents. "If you were going to have fun, couldn't you have done it without getting anything spilt on the documents?"

Your brows scrunched, confused with what she meant until you spotted the acrylic tumbler tipped onto its side with the tea no longer in its container as the papers soaked the liquid up. "Oh shit," you muttered and shot a look at Taeyong who simply shrugged and feigned innocence as if not his fault.

Cindy sighed. "We'll just have to prepare all those again."

"I'll prepare them myself. It's my fault anyway."

She shook her head. "It's fine. I'll help too. You owe me a drink for overtime," she cracked a smile and winked.

You breathed out in relief that she wasn't too mad at you. "Of course."

Taeyong turned to you with bright eyes. "I'll help too." Not only would he be able to spend more time with you, but also receive a free drink, your drink, while at it.

Your jaw slacked, aware of his underlying intention, and pushed him out the cabin with all your strength. "No! You're leaving, mister!"

tag list: @cosmiclatte28 @mel-yjh @johnnysuhisnotmyproblem @kttyongie @chantellsievert

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #taeyong smut #lee taeyong #taeyong x reader #taeyong imagines #taeyong scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Too Good for Grey

A/N: Sooo this is a fic that I’ve had in mind ever since I first posted my list of Imagine Ideas a while ago! Though I know Charlie’s decision not to play the role of Christian Grey is what was best for him, part of me will always be heartbroken that we all missed out on 50 Shades of Hunnam 😭💔 In this fic you’re his girlfriend; he’s considering the role and you let him... practice in the bedroom 😏

Pairing: Charlie Hunnam x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, dom!Charlie, blindfold, bondage, punishment, light flogging (just with his belt, nothing too intense) Request: No specific request, but there’s been demand for a Part 2 of Red Carpet Rogue and I decided to write this fic as a sequel to it!

Word Count: ~3.4k

[Please read Red Carpet Rogue first if you haven’t yet! Otherwise the second paragraph won’t make much sense without that reference...]

You love mornings like this one. Lazy weekends with your boyfriend, hottest man under the sun. Completely chill and easy and carefree, nowhere to be. No work, no plans. You’re seated in his lap feeding him pancakes from your fork, since that’s the only way to get your man to focus on his breakfast. Charlie’s hands are fully occupied, roving and reckless, moving all over your robe and deep inside. Clearly still riding high from such a scandalously sexy night.

You push another forkful past his lips, then playfully lean in to lick some syrup from his chin as it so sweetly drips. His stubble tickles, causing you to giggle, while he growls and tightens his grip on your hips. “Mmm...” he hums, digging into your skin with his thumbs. “You know I still can’t get over just how fucking awesome last night was, Y/N. Thinking we should invest in a stretch of red carpet to relive it over and over again.”

“Hmm, I like the way you’re thinking...” you respond, settling deeper in his lap and slowly sinking, till you feel your man’s enormous cock grind up against your cunt. Heat burning through your silk robe and his sweatpants. “God, you were so fucking dominant. More than you’ve ever been.”

“That a good thing?” the bastard asks you, as if he has to, bursting into laughter when you shoot him a glare of the fuck do you think?!? Your dom/sub dynamic is not a new thing. “Well, chalk it up to this new script that I’m considering. Came my way yesterday before we headed out for the evening.”

He gestures at the stack of papers on the counter behind him just now, which you hadn’t noticed all morning somehow. You blink at the title printed on the front page and cannot believe what you’re seeing. Basically stop breathing. “Oh, wow...”

Charlie flashes a cheeky grin as he gets off on your reaction. Can’t resist making a stupid dirty pun, ‘cause he’s the worst. Rubbing his crotch harder against yours as he says the words. “Yeah, who could’ve seen that coming.”

“Now if you’re gonna start talking dirty to me, Mr. Hunnam... you’d better be ready to act on it,” you warn him, well aware he’s been ready and raring to go all damn morning. “I know you’d slay this role but don’t know if you really want it, to be honest.”

He shrugs as he kisses stray drops of maple syrup from the corners of your mouth. “Yeah, I’ve got my doubts. But haven’t ruled it out. Think some part of me wants it. Luckily I’ve got the greatest girlfriend in the world to help me work through my decision-making process.”

“Well, should we call it work...” your lips curve into a seductive smirk, “...or play?”

At those words, Charlie’s cock fucking jerks. That’s your answer, of course. Better than anything he can say.

And you’re so fucking ready to meet Mr. Grey.

***************

“You sure about this, babe?” he asks as you hastily finish your pancakes. You’re hungry for something quite different, for fuck’s sake. Your pussy’s so wet that it practically aches. “It’s not like we have a red room...”

“But we do have a very nice bedroom,” you tell him. He’s trying to stall and you’re not gonna let him. You’re ready to go. “Plus we’ve got, you know—silk scarves and ties, a closet full of all kinds of hardware supplies. So I’m sure you can... improvise.”

Charlie’s still acting as if he has to think twice. Blinks twice, with an excited little twinkle in his eyes. “Somebody’s eager...”

“Somebody? Both of us, baby. You know you can’t wait for this either.”

“I just want to make sure you’re ready...”

“Charlie, I know you’ll take things slow and steady. I trust you completely,” you reassure him as you kiss his cheek softly and sweetly. “Besides, we’ll rely on the traffic lights code. Red for stop, yellow for ease it up. Green for go. They used those safewords in the books, right? Never read them so I don’t really know.”

“Then how do you know what—”

“Know what Fifty Shades even involves? Love, I’m not some kind of pop culture idiot,” you interrupt, taking his hand to guide him down the halls. You’re really not about to let him stand and stall. “And I may have looked up... a few things on Google. Being such a kinky bitch and all. Brainstorming new ways to play the role of your submissive little slut.”

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he grunts as he finally gives in to what he wants, suddenly slipping into dom mode all at once. Changing his tone, making you moan, slamming you up against the wall. Towering over you so big and strong and tall. “Who would’ve thought... who knew that’s what my sweet little girl is up to when you’re clicking away on your laptop? Googling filthy ways for me to fuck you up?”

You groan in desire as his dirty words start a fire. “Ch-Charlie...”

He reacts just as you knew he would, and his dominance feels so damn good. Last night he scolded you just the same, when you called him by name. “What the fuck do you call me?”

“Sir,” you instantly answer. Obviously. Filled with the urge to say more, like a good proper whore, since you feel more submissive than ever before. Thirsty for fifty shades of Charlie. “Thank you for reminding me, sir. I’m so sorry.”

“You better be,” he chides, sliding his hands down your shivering sides, then swiftly untying your robe and letting it fall open wide. His touch upon your skin is hot as hell and fucking heavenly. “Your place in life is to obey. Do as I say. To serve and pleasure me.”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, breathing heavily, as he cradles your face in his dominant fingers. “I promise I’ll always remember.”

You’ve known it to be true, since the day you first met him: Charlie Hunnam owns you, and you fucking let him. You’re fated to live for his pleasure and love him forever.

He reads all of the thoughts in your head as he slowly lets go of your face, slaying you with his blazing blue gaze. Though you moan at the loss of his fingers, the power and passion of his touch still lingers. You can feel it all over your sensitive skin. Fifty shades of pure sin.

And you love it. Want every damn shade of it. Already so addicted to the deep submissive state you’re in.

The next words that he speaks... make you so fucking weak. Mr. Grey has most certainly come out to play. And he is here to stay. To make you fifty shades of horny. “That’s a good little whore. Gonna give you the punishment you’ve been so desperately hoping for. Now run off to the bedroom and wait for me... facing away from the open door... naked and down on your knees.”

****************

Yes, sir. Yes, please. You’re pretty sure your cunt is leaking all over the floor as you obey your master’s orders, flinging your robe off your shoulders, stripping down and sitting back upon your heels.

It’s not the first time Charlie’s ordered you to kneel—but this right now... just hits different somehow. He’s so hot it’s unreal, too dominant for you to even deal. And you’re obsessed with how insanely good it feels.

You’ve already lost track of just how long you’ve waited. Heart racing, breath bated. How much time has passed? It may have been two minutes or two hundred. You just know that once your man arrives at last, he’ll be all set to give you everything you’ve wanted.

The moment when he finally comes... you feel his presence from across the room. Exuding vibes of absolute alpha male dom. And you’re so desperate to receive all of that energy from him. You can’t believe how blessed you are to be his woman. Here experiencing fifty shades of Hunnam.

Though you’re dying to turn behind you toward the door to see how good he surely looks right now, you stop yourself somehow. Keep both hands resting on your thighs, with lowered eyes, head bowed. Still and silent, though self-conscious that you are breathing incredibly loud. You’re so fucking aroused.

As Charlie takes a few deliberate steps toward you... rests his hand against your head, stroking your hair and tenderly twining his fingers through... you already feel dead. Can’t stop some smutty sound from slipping out your slutty little mouth.

He then reaches around, to trace his thumb across your bottom lip, shifting his grip before you can even attempt to kiss his fingertips. Needs you to know that you are not to make a sound, till he allows. That he owns you without a fucking doubt.

He’s owning you now with the tone of his voice and the touch of his hand. “Y/N. I need you to understand... that you are mine to command.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathlessly answer. And the slut in you compulsively reacts, tilting your head back, in an effort to make eye contact. Dying to look up at his gorgeous face, to meet his gaze, as you profess the shameless fact: that you belong to him, in every way and always...

And yet your man has other plans. Prevents you from catching a glimpse of him before you even can. He had arrived with something in his hands—a strip of cloth, some kind of tie or scarf, silken and soft. He masterfully fastens it around your eyes the moment that your head tilts back, and suddenly your vision fades to black.

“Now that’s no way for a good little slut to act,” Charlie scolds, as he tightens your blindfold. “Shifting from your position? Moving without my permission?”

Ugh God, he’s so hot you could die. “I...”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I’m sick of your worthless apologies. High time I teach you a lesson in proper submission.”

“Ohh, sir—” you moan as he pulls you closer, till the back of your head rubs against the huge bulge in his crotch. The prize that you crave so fucking much. The object of your dreams. You can tell that he’s wearing your favorite jeans, and his cock is so hard it’s obscene, bursting out of the seams.

Then he effortlessly hoists you onto your feet, the bare skin of your back sliding up against his upper body—shirtless, naturally—so that you can feel every firm ridge of his muscles and all of his raw carnal heat. “Now I know what you want... but what’s much more important... I know what you need.”

Those words murder your cunt, and it feels like time stops. Then the next thing you know Charlie has you facedown on the bed, both arms over your head. And he’s tying you up. Binding both of your wrists to the bedposts, with some fucking serious rope.

This is everything your inner slut ever hoped. And you can’t even cope.

He’s just getting started and already this feels so damn perfect you just want to cry. Fucking magic. You’re fucking ecstatic. Tears of pure euphoria rise to your eyes, fighting at the blindfold he had tied, dampening the fabric.

Charlie picks up on all your unspoken emotions, as he always does. He can tell that you’re buzzed and just wants to make sure that this isn’t too much. Leaning in near, to whisper sweetly in your ear. “How’s the traffic?”

“Huh...?” you reply in a hazy sigh, taking a moment just to realize what he means. “Oh—green. So green.”

“Mmm, good to know,” he smirks against your cheek, as you revert to being too horny to speak. “But we can always take it slow. Just let me know if we’re approaching yellow—”

All of a sudden you’re able to speak again, just then. The words are somewhat muffled as your face is partly burrowed in the pillows; you make sure that Charlie hears you loud and clear, though. “Hell no. Green means fucking go.”

“If you say so...” he smirks once more, kissing your cheek before he lifts off of your back, all fucking ready to attack. You both can’t wait for what’s in store.

Charlie has spanked you countless times before. With you facedown in bed, you would’ve guessed that’s what he had in mind—to slap your slutty ass red, then to fuck you from behind. Remind you that you’ll always be his dirty little fucking whore.

Today you’re hoping for a little something more.

And that’s exactly what he’s giving. This time around... the punishment’s bound to hit different.

You can hear the faint rustle, telltale sound of metal and leather as Charlie undoes his belt buckle. Oh, shit—surprise, surprise—for some of these supplies, he didn’t even have to venture in the hardware closet.

Everything he needs to exert his total dominance, he’s fucking got it.

And it’s everything you’ve ever fucking wanted.

“Know just how much this pretty ass loves getting punished...” he teases, taking your bare naked cheeks in his hands with a few tender strokes and squeezes.

If you had to guess—without being able to witness—he must’ve looped his undone belt around his neck to free both hands for just a minute. He must look so fucking hot right now. An absolute sex god like nobody’s business.

“This sweet ass will look even prettier in pink by the time we’re finished,” he says it like a promise, and you really hope he keeps it, to be honest. “You know I would say prettier in red, but...”

“Oh, no, that’s a bad word,” you murmur in playful laughter. Repeat the right color to make sure he feels reassured. “Green, sir. Want you to let loose and get fucking mean, sir.”

“Ugh fuck,” he murmurs, as you hear him smile while he slides the leather belt off of his shoulders. You can just imagine what the sight of you in such submission has done to his denim-clad cock. “You’re killing me, love...”

“But that’s your job. I’m the sub,” you remind him, well aware you’re coming close to topping from the bottom. Sort of. Whatever it takes, to get Mr. Grey to come out to play, to feel comfortable falling into his role as your absolute dom. “Now go crazy and get rough. I promise I want it, sir. Honest. I can’t get enough.”

“Such a good fucking slut,” Charlie rasps, slowly grazing the edge of the leather across the soft globes of your ass. “Once we’re done with your punishment... you know I’m gonna fucking wreck this perfect little cunt?”

“Yes, sir. Please punish me and use my pussy for your pleasure.”

“Motherfucker...” you hear him quietly mutter, scrambling to strip out of his jeans, because his cock is probably straining in pain against the denim, harder than it’s ever been. No surprise since your cunt’s also wetter than ever. It’s just so perfect that you two are getting off on this together. You love the way your dirty words have this effect on him, just as his do on you. You’re such a slut for Mr. Hunnam; the best thing is that he’s such a slut for you, too.

Once he’s finally naked and gets in position behind you, he takes a few seconds to soak in the view. Psyching up for what he is about to do: whip the shit out of you. Just as you want him to.

“Now with each lash that comes down, I want you to keep count. And need you to repeat the color. Loud. You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you swear, yielding to his command, instinctively arching your ass up in the air, because you’re desperate for your punishment. “Yes, sir, I understand. Green means hit me as hard as you can.”

“You fucking greedy little cunt,” he taunts with a dominant sneer. “Who makes the rules here? I’m gonna go just as hard or as soft as I want.”

You realize you were stupid to think he would go so hard, right from the start. Charlie knows where your limits are, even when you don’t. He reads your body and your mind and sees into your heart. Knows just what you need even when you’re too focused on only what you want. That’s why you have no doubt that he’ll dish out the most perfect punishment.

And so he does.

From the very first lash on your ass... your breath halts with a heart-stopping gasp. You have never felt such a damn buzz. From the way the sensation bursts onto your skin, underneath the smooth leather, a blossom of sin, pain blurring into pleasure... you want this to just go on forever and ever.

Your master had given you orders, you somehow remember. “One...!” you scream, as you sink deeper into submission, so desperate for him it’s obscene. “Oh God, thank you, sir. Green.”

“Good girl,” he mutters, just before he treats you to another. Each hit makes your fucking toes curl. You are the luckiest bitch in the entire fucking world.

“Two! Fuck, thank you...” you wholeheartedly thank him again and again, with each serving of perfect pain, grateful to your dom for how fucking awesome it feels. It’s unreal. And you keep screaming green on repeat, to give him all the safety and comfort he needs.

He’s enjoying this, no doubt—his cock’s standing rock hard and proud—but this first time around, with each strike that comes down, Charlie is much more focused on reading your signals. Respecting your limits, especially when it’s so tempting to test them a little. You don’t really seem to have any with him, as far as he can tell. Which is epic on some level, but also scary as hell.

He decides when you’re finished, with getting punished, since you’re taking it too fucking well. All you want is more of it; you love it and can’t think of anything else. On your end it’s exquisite. Excruciating ecstasy fulfilling your every fantasy. All because it’s pain coming from him. Fifty shades of Hunnam. All because of how deeply you worship and love him.

If there’s one thing you love more than taking these whips from his belt, the sweetest sting you have ever felt... it’s getting ripped to pieces by his massive cock. Playing your lifelong role as a slut for Sir Hunnam to fuck. Taking him in your soaking wet cunt, letting him ravage you just as hard and as fast as he wants, rough and savage, dishing out some serious damage, till you both explode deep inside and all over each other at once.

Something about the hard passionate sex today, the way he wrecks today... feels even hotter after how you got to play.

Apparently he really likes it when you tap into his inner Mr. Grey.

You both come harder than you ever have, as his huge shaft unloads inside your hole and feeds your soul and breaks you right in half. Breathing in shallow gasps as you feel him fucking collapse, your naked back slick from the sweat off of his sculpted chest and his firm chiseled abs. His face is buried in your hair, and though you know how much he wants to unfasten your blindfold and unbind your wrists, so he can turn you over for a heartfelt kiss, and shower you with hours of loving aftercare... right now your man’s just laying there and praying for some air.

He’s just so perfect it’s not fair. You know he’ll spend the whole rest of the day talking through all your feelings, treating you to every form of healing. Endlessly obsessing over every mark upon your skin, like he committed some ungodly sin, compulsively asking you whether you’re really okay. And he’ll keep on asking no matter what you say. Although he also loves to play this way... deep down he’s doing it for you, because his love is pure and true.

And that was when you fucking knew: this man is way too good to take the role that he was offered yesterday. You’re here to help him though each step of his decision-making process, to respect him if he wants this, and support him either way—but you already feel quite sure after today that your man Charlie is quite honestly... too good for Grey.

***************

Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did!! 🤗❤️

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lalitsethia101 · 1 year

Text

Title: "Unveiling the Flaws and Benefits of Instagram Paid Verified Accounts: A Reflection by Lalit Sethia"

Benefits of Instagram Paid Verified Accounts:

When it comes to credibility and trust, nothing quite compares to the power of a verified badge. It's like a shining beacon, guiding your followers and potential collaborators towards your genuine self. A verified badge inspires trust by reassuring others that you can be trusted in this vast digital landscape.

Improved visibility is another great benefit that comes with the coveted "Verified" badge. With a verified account, your content will get more exposure in search results and research sites. This increased visibility means your posts are featured, allowing you to reach a wider audience and share your unique perspective with the world.

As an influencer, the advantages of a verified account are many. Brands and businesses are naturally drawn to verified accounts as they are seen as industry leaders, influencers, or standouts. With a verified badge, you open the door to exciting collaborations and potential partnerships that can take your impact to a new level.

Finally, let's not lose sight of the importance of protecting against identity theft. Unfortunately, even in the digital realm, there are malicious actors who want to emulate and damage your hard-earned reputation. However, with verification, you get an extra layer of security that protects your brand image from scammers and ensures that your followers are interacting with you authentically.

Flaws and Limitations:

Now, let's address a concern that has been voiced by many dedicated influencers who invest significant time and effort into creating engaging content. It's disheartening for them to witness accounts with minimal followers receiving the verified badge while their own accounts, despite their hard work, remain unverified. This situation highlights a few key issues.

1. Inequality and Unfairness:

The verification process can sometimes appear to be unfair, as it seems to prioritize follower count rather than content quality or engagement. Influencers who pour their heart and soul into creating exceptional content, fostering genuine connections with their audience, may feel overlooked and undervalued when they see accounts with only a handful of followers receiving verification. This creates an uncomfortable sense of inequality within the platform.

2. Limited transparency:

Instagram's verification criteria can be a bit unclear, leaving many influencers unsure of the exact requirements needed to earn the coveted verification badge. This lack of transparency can be frustrating and has influencers wondering what steps they need to take to improve their chances of being verified.

3. Cost of participation:

The current system puts a lot of emphasis on the number of followers rather than the quality of an influencer’s interaction with their audience. In fact, engagement is often a better indicator of an account's authenticity and influence than follower count. Influencers who invest substantial time and effort into fostering meaningful connections and interactions with their followers may feel undervalued when they see less-engaged accounts being verified solely based on their follower count.

4. Aspirations and Motivation:

The disparity between hardworking influencers without verification and accounts with fewer followers obtaining the verified badge may demotivate aspiring creators. It sends a message that follower count, rather than content quality and audience engagement, is the primary determinant of success on Instagram. This can discourage talented individuals from pursuing their passion and may hinder the platform's overall diversity and creativity.

5. Conclusion:

While the flaws and limitations surrounding Instagram's paid verification feature can be disheartening for hardworking influencers, it is important to remember that the pursuit of success is not solely defined by a verified badge. True influence is based on real connections and the impact an influencer has on their audience. Instagram should strive to create a grading process that honors these deeper connections and provides an equal chance to recognize deserving creators. Until then, influencers must remain focused on creating exceptional content, nurturing their audience, and building a thriving community built on trust and engagement.

#on page seo #smo training #off page seo #seo training

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spookypotato · 3 years

Text

Leo - Just Leo 2

Characters by @lumosinlove

Thank you to elisa my beta <3

And thank you everyone for being invested! I did not expect people to care that much, but I'm happy you did :))

part 1

TW: coming out, anxiety, stess

He started sobbing. This is ridiculous. Everything was alright. Nothing had gone wrong. He could cry if they rejected him. He could cry, if everything he feared for became reality. He should not do it now. He had no reason to.

Finn’s hand on his back and Logan’s on his knees, drawing small circles with his thumbs, grounded him a bit. He tried to focus on his breathing. Leo knew the process. He counted things in his head, took a few more deep breaths and the tears pretty much stopped again. He could feel a hand on his cheek.

Finn wiped away the wetness there and Leo had to actively hold back the new ones that were threatening to roll down. He inhaled deeply.

“There you go.”, came in Finns voice from next to him. “Are you alright, baby?”

Leo only nodded. He didn’t trust himself with words just yet. He should take a few minutes to calm himself down and then tell them. Bursting into tears in between his words wouldn’t be good for any of them.

Finn’s hand stopped on his back, feeling the muscles underneath it relax. He slowly got up and went to the kitchen.

“He’ll just get you some water. Can I do anything else for you, Nutty?”, Logan asked as he also got up to move next to Leo, his hand replacing Finns.

Leo shook his head. He could feel his throat getting less tight and letting more air through. Maybe even enough to start the conversation, the one he wanted to have for quite a while now.

He hadn’t practiced. He still had no clue what to say, but he had his boys next to him and his determination had returned.

Leo downed the glass Finn had brought him. It helped, he was positive, he would get out more than a sentence without crying again. He could do this.

“So”, he croaked out the same fucking opener he wanted to use less. Now was not the time to try to change his habits.

“So”, he tried again. Fuck it. “I have something I wanted to talk about with you.”

Both of his boys looked at him. He felt less nervous now that he had started and was still feeling their hands on his back and knees. He turned a bit to face them both more fully.

Just start in some way.

“I don’t want you to call me your boyfriend anymore.”

And damn. He could have said anything else and it would have been less stupid. He needed to fix this. Logan’s hand was no longer on his back and Finns had simply fallen to the ground next to his feet. He looked over to Logan, who’s eyes were beginning to become shiner than usual. He looked hurt.

Of course he looked hurt dumbass, you basically told them you want to break up with them. He hit himself mentally for his poor choice of words.

“Leo, do you not want to be in a relationship with us anymore?”, Finn asked softly, his bottom lip worried between his teeth.

Seeing both of them this distressed at once seemed to snap him out of his paralysis.

“No! No, no, no, no, no. I really, really don’t. I would never. You two are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you so much I meant it differently. I’m sorry.”, Leo had forgotten to take a breath in between. He needed to correct his mistake. He needed them to know how much they meant to him.

Finn’s expression turned into a more relaxed one, which quickly became confused. “I love you, too. Why don’t you want to be called our boyfriend anymore though?”

Finn left the question open ended. He provided no potential answers. He didn’t try to guess what was going on, he just asked and Leo was grateful for it.

He started again. “If I’m going to say this, I need to say it all at once. So until I’m done with the main part, please don’t interrupt me, yeah? I don’t know where this bravery is coming from, but it’s bound to leave at some point. Can you do that?”

He looked at Finn, who nodded. They both looked over at their boyfriend. Logan was clearly still not over the fact that, Leo almost told them he wanted to end their relationship. A few tears had rolled down his cheeks and Leo moved his hand to wipe them away, tilting his head up so green eyes met blue.

“Can you listen to me, sweetheart?”

Another tear rolled down Logan’s face and Leo wiped that one away too. He saw the brunet nodding.

Okay, here goes ... everything, he thought to himself.

“I’d like you to use they/them pronouns for me, please.”, Leo saw things click behind Finns eyes, but they both knew Leo wasn’t done, so the boys listened as they continued. “I’ve thought about this for a good amount of time and I’m not completely sure how I feel, but I don’t feel like I’m a cis man. I know I’m trans. I figured that out, but I don’t know what label would fit me best yet. I do however know, I’m not a man and I’m not a woman. That’s why I’d like to try out they/them pronouns.”, their stare was fixed on the ground. Leo couldn’t bear to look their boys in the eye. They couldn’t bear a rejection. Curiosity got the better of them though, and dragged their blue eyes slowly off the ground and into brown and green ones.

Leo knew, their eyes must look stressed, nervous or even desperate, but they needed some kind of reaction.

“If I call you Leo, are you fine with that?”, Logan’s voice came from beside him. Not disgusted or distant, just as loving and considerate as it always was. Hope bloomed in Leo’s chest.

“Yes.”, they answered the question. “Leo is perfect. It’s gender-neutral and I like it. It makes me feel comfortable. Thank you for asking.”

This didn’t feel real. Neither Logan nor Finn had moved a muscle in an effort to get up or scream at them or push them away. They were both simply sitting on the couch next to them, listening.

Finn must have seen the distressed expression on Leo’s face and moved closer, his thigh touching the blonds. At least Leo now knew he couldn’t be that disgusted with them, that he couldn’t even bear to touch them. That wasn’t a lot, but it was a piece of hope Leo didn’t want to let go.

“Peanut, baby. We love you.”, Logan moved closer to them as well, putting his hand back on Leo’s back, “We love you for you. That will never change. I don’t care what your gender is, the thing I care about is that you are you. That you’re comfortable in your own skin and feel understood and accepted and loved. Unconditionally.”

Leo was so close to tears again and when one slipped down their cheek, they couldn’t help but let the rest stream down as well. They weren’t sad, but the pure relief they felt was enough to coat their cheeks with tears.

Logan and Finn knew. Both of them just moved closer and hugged Leo. It was grounding and it actually slowed the sobs down that had started escaping their lips again. Just as Finn pulled back and kissed them on the cheek, Logan whispered in his ear, “Sweetheart, we love you for you, not for your gender. Nothing can change that.”

~~~

The following Monday, there was luckily no practice, so they all slept in. The doorbell was what woke them up at about 9 am.

Finn grumbled something an got up, kissing them both, Leo on the shoulder and Logan on his cheek, maybe whispering something, but Leo was still to sleepy to care.

What they did however care about, was Logan getting up as well, leaving them alone in their bed, cold and with no body heat to snuggle into.

After a few minutes of rolling around, trying to get comfortable again and failing, they reluctantly got up as well.

“Leo!”, he heard a shout from the main room.

Answered by Finn in an almost scolding tone. “Let them sleep, Logan. They had a few stressful days.”

It warmed Leo’s heart to hear them use their pronouns correctly, even after only a day.

Their boys were in the living room, grinning at them like they knew something Leo didn’t. They probably did.

Leo was almost in front of them as they pulled out, what had been behind their backs.

Light blue, pink and white was staring back at them. Logan and Finn had bought them a trans pride flag.

Both of them were beaming and Leo couldn’t help themselves from covering their faces in kisses. They really were loved.

“We can get another one, if you decide on a label, you like more, but we got you this. You also don’t have to keep it, we just thought you might like it.”, Finn told them.

“And it’s a part of you and as we in this household love all things Leo Knut related, we wanted to have a symbol for that. For you figuring out your feelings.”, Logan added. He got a bit quieter at the end, like he was questioning if they had done the wrong thing.

Leo’s eyes, their fucking eyes, just didn’t want to give them a break. Tears were starting to form again and they had no way of stopping them. Logan and Finn accepted them. Not only that, they embraced Leo’s gender identity. And they had shown them, just like Eloise and Wyatt had.

“Thank you.”, Leo got out through their tears, “I love you both so, so much.”

#lumosinlove #harry potter #sweater weather #leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #o'knutzy fluff #o'knutzy #written by meee #leo just leo #leo just leo 2 #coast to coast #trans character #trans!leo knut #accepting boys #pride #trans pride #tw coming out

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 3 years

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Gold Rush

Finally venturing into writing for Brock, and so excited to put this out there!! Very appreciative of the encouragement I’ve gotten throughout this from @brockadoodles who had (rightfully so, man deserves it) made loving Brock her BRAND. If there was any hockey who’s made to be a dad, it’s Brock Boeser, and I’ve genuinely loved getting to put this together. Love hearing feedback and what your favorite parts were, so reblog and pop into my inbox!

word count: 3.8k+

Brock had loved kids his whole life. Being around them, looking after them, the first day a kid asked him to autograph his jersey was burned into his brain alongside precious few other memories, most of the others involving you. And anyone who had ever seen him with Easton could tell that Brock Boeser loved babies. He had wanted kids since he was old enough to know what being a dad was, and knew so strongly that was a path he wanted — needed, honestly, there was too much love in his heart to not share it with everyone he could — that he wouldn’t ever have let things get serious with you if that wasn’t a life you wanted for yourself. Parenthood wasn’t for everyone, and he never held it against the women he had dated who didn’t want to be moms, but it was for Brock Boeser.

He remembered the day he brought it up with you, his voice soft and hesitant as your head rested on his shoulder, a blanket thrown haphazardly over their laps as Return of the Jedi played on the TV. “Do you want kids someday?” Brock asked. He spoke gently, not wanting to scare you off with thoughts of the future coming too fast for you to handle, wondering if maybe seven months into a relationship was too early to bring up the type of commitment that lasted a lifetime. But he had to, had to protect himself from getting more invested and one more broken heart in a relationship that wasn’t just headed down the wrong set of train tracks, it was going the opposite way entirely. But, as you spoke, it turned out that he never had anything to worry about, and Brock wasn’t sure if he’d ever been more relieved in his life.

“I do,” you said, looking up at his face, trying to read his expression. “Always have. Not sure how many, I’ve always thought two or three sounded good. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Brock couldn’t help the way his heart absolutely swelled, the way you spoke of him in your future, with such ease and certainty as if you weren’t even entertaining a possibility that he wouldn’t be a part of it, that he wouldn’t be the one you would have children with. He twisted his neck, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. “We will.”

So Brock loved kids, and you loved kids, and it had been established over a year before he put a ring on your finger that they were something in your future. You bought a four-bedroom in Shaughnessy, the idea being that one would be a guest room and two would be reserved for the kids, whenever they came along. “We can always add on,” Brock had said as you signed the papers, the real estate agent dropping the keys into your palm with a warm smile. And you knew that he would, you knew that Brock wanted as many kids as you were willing to give him. But you’d start with one. That was the plan. That was the plan, so a few months after you got back from your honeymoon in Scotland you went off of your birth control. Kids would happen when they happened, but you both knew you’d rather them sooner than later, and thus had begun your journey towards starting a family. That was the plan, so a year and a half ago you had swapped the pill for a stock of pregnancy tests, taking one a month and whenever you were feeling even slightly off for good measure, sure that your nausea and headache wasn’t the beginnings of a flu but rather your baby making themself known.

When six months of trying came and went without a single positive test, you both started to get a little antsy, but you knew that these things took time, and you knew that it hadn’t been long enough for there to be any real cause for concern. But you still called your doctor, started exercising more and taking folic acid like she recommended, you and Brock both cutting down on your alcohol. “If you’ve got to do all this, it’s only fair I have to make some changes, too,” he had said. You loved your husband for many reasons, chief among them being the fact that no matter the circumstance, where you were or who you were with or how people were acting, he never made you feel like you were on your own. Everything was a team effort in the Boeser household.

It was six months, and you were doing okay, and Brock was genuinely winning the award for the world’s best husband with how deftly he could calm you down every time you saw the words not pregnant show up on a pregnancy test, but then it hit a year of trying without success and you started to get worried. It was July, and you knew it was common in the NHL to try and time births for the offseason — if you got pregnant in the summer, your baby would have been born in the middle of a playoff push — but you honestly would have settled for any timing. So you visited a fertility specialist at the Mayo Clinic, a quiet recommendation Brock’s mom got from a friend’s daughter. You loved your own mom, but Laurie truly had been your saving grace in everything. A quiet, steady presence who offered more love and support than you could ever ask for, giving her advice only when asked and never once betraying your trust by telling anyone. But Dr. Gonzalez got the tests back, both yours and Brock’s, and said that nothing was wrong. “Unexplained infertility,” they called it. It was nothing anybody was doing wrong, nobody’s fault, not a matter of hormonal imbalances or obvious lifestyle factors or anything that would have let you blame it on yourself. Which, on one hand, was so good and so relieving, so desperately needed. You needed to know that it wasn’t your body, and it wasn’t Brock, that was keeping the two of you from finally being able to grow your family. But on the other hand, there were few things more hopeless or frustrating than hearing that they couldn’t find a cause. That meant that there wasn’t anything you could have done differently, true, but that also meant that there wasn’t anything you could do. It was a waiting game, and you were never good with being patient.

Pregnancy scares were more common than people might know, if the experiences of you and your friends were anything to go by. There were high school boyfriends, college roommates, half of the people you knew had worried they were pregnant or had gotten someone pregnant far before they were ready. But now, when you were settled down and established and were building a life with the most amazing man you had ever had the fortune to love, and you wanted a baby, it wasn’t happening. The clinical definition of infertility was the “failure to achieve a clinical pregnancy after 12 months or more of regular unprotected sexual intercourse.” You had committed the definition to memory over the past 14 months, and whether you knew it or not, Brock had too. You had always been good at tests. Good grades, always the essay the teacher used as an example in class, graduated top of your class at UBC. But this was one test you couldn’t study for, and one you couldn’t believe you had failed time and time again.

Which brought you to December, normally one of your favorite times of the year but one that you had recently begun noticing all the doom and gloom in that others had always mentioned when speaking about the winter months. You still loved the holidays, Christmas and New Year’s and everything in between, but you thought that in your second year as a married couple, you wouldn’t still be a family of two. It was a year and a half since you and Brock had started trying for a baby, and there was still no luck. It was a year and a half, and you had started talking about options. Vancouver had some amazing fertility specialists, and adoption was something you had discussed looking into, but you had both agreed on waiting a few more months before taking that route.

---

Which brought you to almost three weeks later, two days before New Year’s Eve, your head in the toilet and your husband leaning up against the doorway. “God, I feel like shit,” you said, leaning up against the wall when your nausea had finally seemed to subside. “I bet, last time I threw up was our honeymoon,” he said, trying to make you laugh. Brock had insisted on trying haggis in Scotland, saying he needed the “full experience,” but regretted that decision as soon as he spent the better part of the second night of your honeymoon in the hotel bathroom throwing up from food poisoning. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, gratefully taking the cup of water Brock handed you as you leaned up against the bathroom counter.

You caught his eyes searching yours as you set the glass down, his face wearing an expression you had come to know well in the four years you had been together. There was something on his mind, but he wasn’t sure if he should say it. “Yeah?” you prompted, raising your eyebrows.

He gave a tiny shake of his head. “It’s nothing, seriously.”

Now it was your turn to look at him. “Brock, it’s going to eat you up if you keep it all inside. Spit it out.”

“How long has it been since you took a test?” Brock asked gently.

You should have known. God, you should have known that’s where his mind would go, and the worst part of it all, the part that made you feel even worse for getting your husband’s hopes up that maybe this was finally it, maybe it had finally worked, was that you couldn’t even blame him. You had been snappier at Brock the past few days, something both you and he had attributed to your overall weariness about the whole process, you had to practically slap his hands away from your breasts the other night while you were having sex, and this wasn’t even the first time you had thrown up this week. But it was flu season, and you worked with kids, and seemed to catch it more years than not despite taking the flu shot religiously each October. You’d be looking for a missed period, but they had always been light and you had experienced some spotting when Brock was on a road trip the week before.

You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, shaking your head. “I don’t know...A month? A little over? I just hate that it’s getting so clinical, that’s not what it was supposed to be about, that’s never what it was supposed to be about.”

Brock ran his hands up your arms, back and forth, the same way he had been comforting you for years. “I know, baby. And I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel that way, more stressed or disappointed in yourself, because it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. We’re going to have a baby one way or another, because I love you and I’ve never met anyone who’s more excited, and ready, and made to be a mom quite like you. And whether you have the baby yourself, or we adopt, or whatever path we decide is the right one for us, they’ll be ours, and they’ll be so loved.” Brock ghosted a kiss over your forehead, his eyes closing. “You don’t have to take another test if you don’t want to, the last thing I want to do is make you more anxious over all of this. But I think it might be good. I think it might help.”

You breathed out deeply through your nose, shooting your husband a weak smile. God, he was so good to you. “I’ll tell you if I do.”

Brock nodded, stepping towards you and wrapping you in his arms, whispering your name as he leaned his forehead against yours. “No matter what happens — tomorrow, next week, next year, I don’t care — nothing you do will ever make me love you any less. We’re good. We’re gonna be okay.” You could have filled a hundred books with the reasons why you loved Brock Boeser, and this was one of them. The way he loved you, so selflessly and sacrificially, without an ounce of ego and never expecting anything in return aside from your heart. You didn’t know what you had ever done in this life or any past one to deserve him, but there wasn’t a day you didn’t thank God for the privilege of letting you love this man.

---

It was finally New Year’s Eve, festivities having taken over the city — really, they hadn’t stopped since Christmas — and hardly a flat surface was left undecorated with posters or metallic tinsel, or both for good measure, including almost the entirety of yours and Brock’s house. He had volunteered your place weeks ago as the site for the team’s New Year’s Eve party. It didn’t generally draw a crowd as big as the holiday party earlier in the month, which usually had not only the players’ partners, but children and whatever family was visiting at the time, so Brock had asked if you’d be willing, and you agreed easily. You loved getting to spend time with the team, and you were even more inclined than usual to gravitate towards any kind of distraction that would take your mind off of the stress you were under. The stress that you put yourself under, to be fair. So you threw yourself into planning and preparation, pulling out the ice chest from the garage and filling it up, making sure people were bringing enough champagne, cleaning every inch of the house with Brock until it was spotless despite the fact that you both knew you’d have to do the same thing in the morning.

Some two and a half hours into the party and most everyone who was drinking was sufficiently drunk, the TV in the living room flipping back and forth between the broadcast from Times Square and Youtube karaoke that nearly everyone had been roped into at some point or another. You sipped your soda, half-sitting on one of your barstools next to Holly. “You’re not drinking?” she asked curiously.

“I had some earlier, trying to pace myself” you said, waving your hand. “Someone’s got to look after that one.” You nodded towards Brock, who was having what looked to be the time of his life in your living room while badly singing along to One Direction. Holly nodded. You knew she probably wanted to ask more, but she was too tactful to push. “It’s so nice to see them all like this, just letting loose, having fun. It’s hard to remember sometimes that these are just guys in their 20s and 30s when they’re constantly off travelling or away at games, doing things most people their age only dreamed of. They don’t get the chance to be normal hardly ever. And the season can get stressful...It’s just good to see,” you said.

“It is,” she agreed.

You checked your phone. Twelve minutes till midnight. “You want to help me get the champagne ready?”

Holly smiled. “Let’s do it.”

Nearly twenty flutes of champagne later — you had no idea where Brock had managed to find all of the glasses — you walked around the corner, your head poking into the living room. “Champagne’s in the kitchen, everybody. Five minutes till midnight!”

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Brock said, leaning in for a kiss after walking over.

You scrunched your nose. “Babe. It hasn’t even been ten minutes.” The second you had gotten back from refilling your drink earlier, Brock had dragged you into what turned out to be a very endearing but not-so-successful rendition of I’ve Had the Time of My Life in the living room, minus the lift. He wanted to go for it, and you trusted your husband with everything, but you really didn’t feel like spending your New Year’s Eve in the ER after having crashed into the Christmas tree. Dirty Dancing was one of the first movies you had ever watched together, so there was more than a little meaning behind the choice, but you doubted you were exactly making Jennifer Grey proud.

“Ten minutes away from you is ten minutes too long,” he said, nuzzling his head into your neck.

The fingers of your free hand carded through the hairs at the base of his neck; you loved it when he let his hair grow out like this. “Okay, babe, I believe you. How much have you had to drink tonight?”

Brock pulled back, rolling his eyes at you in exaggeration. “Only two beers since the night started. I’m not drunk, I’m not even tipsy, I just love my wife.”

“Could be worse,” you quipped. You squeezed his hand as the two of you walked into the kitchen, after half of the guests had already grabbed their flutes and made their way back into the living room for the countdown. Grabbing your drink from the other side of the counter, you held it in your far hand as you and Brock turned back around, taking your place by the Christmas tree. You glanced towards the TV, where the Times Square ball was slowly inching towards the ground. “Anyone else think it’s a little weird that we’re all staring at a TV waiting for something to happen that already happened 3 hours ago?”

“I don’t believe in tape delay,” Elias said.

Quinn nodded seriously in agreement, but the corner of his mouth twitched up. “It doesn’t exist. That little notice in the corner, saying ‘this is a recording of an earlier broadcast? Fake.”

You snorted into your glass as everyone’s attention turned back to the screen. Three minutes till midnight. “I was a little apprehensive at first when you said you’d put us down to host,” you said, leaning back into Brock’s chest, “but I’m glad you did. This is nice.”

“I’m glad we’ve got everyone around,” he said, looking down at you. “What are you drinking?” he asked curiously. He hadn’t noticed before, too caught up in the euphoria and exhilaration of the night, but the more he looked at it, the more he realized that your glass looked different than everyone else’s.

“Sparkling cider,” you said, your heart rate picking up. “I brought it in case any of the kids came.”

“But there was plenty of champagne left?” Brock questioned. “We’re at our own house, it’s not like you need to be playing designated driver.” You let out an airy laugh, the kind that made Brock’s eyes immediately snap to yours because he knew you so well, he could read even the slightest actions, the smallest shift in tone, and he knew what that particular laugh meant. It was your nervous laugh. “What is it?” he asked, guiding you around the corner to the darkened hallway, the residual glimmer of the lights from the Christmas tree glowing softly on the walls.

You looked up at him, the purest most radiant smile you had ever given him crossing over your face. “You’re not supposed to drink when you’re pregnant,” you whispered, your top lip trembling and letting you know that you were only moments away from tears.

Brock was speechless as he looked at you, the near-silence of the hallway a strange contrast to the growing noise in the living room as the clock ticked closer and closer to the new year. “And you’re...You’re not drinking because…” He faltered.

You gently took both of your glasses, setting them on a side table before taking his left hand in your own, running your thumb over his wedding band. “I’m not drinking because I’m pregnant, Brock,” you repeated, your voice cracking.

“Are you sure?” he asked. You felt a twinge in your heart, but you knew you really couldn’t be upset with him for not being sure. It had been a year and a half and there had been more than once where you both thought it was finally it, that it had finally taken.

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I took a test the other day, after you had asked me if I was going to. God, I wasn’t expecting anything different, Brock. I wasn’t expecting anything,” you said. “But three minutes was up, and I turned the test over,” his hand tightened almost imperceptibly around yours, “and I saw a plus sign. I’ve never seen one before, Brock, it’s never been positive.” You didn’t realize you had started crying until Brock reached up with the hand that wasn’t holding yours, wiping away a tear that had fallen onto your cheek. “But I didn’t want to get my hopes up again. Not until I was sure. So I found a midwifery center online, called — thank God they had a cancellation — and went in yesterday. I wanted to get it confirmed, but I didn’t want to do anything without you. I didn’t even look at the ultrasound, all I had her tell me was that everything looked absolutely perfect for seven weeks along.”

It was your husband’s turn for tears now, neither of you paying any mind to the deafening countdown that was happening just steps away. “You’re really pregnant?”

You nodded again. “We have an appointment again in two days. They’re going to show us the heartbeat.”

That was what broke him, bringing Brock down to his knees in front of you, his hand slipping from yours as he brought it up to rest on your lower stomach. Where his baby was. Where your baby was. “I’m finally going to be a dad,” he said, as if the knowledge that both of your lives would be changed forever come next July was just now hitting him, as if he’d never known purpose and fulfillment quite on the same level until you spoke those words to him.

You knelt down next to him, dropping a kiss on his lips just as the clock struck midnight. It wasn’t like any kiss you had ever shared before, not overwhelmed with passion or desire or want, nor the small, steady sort of kisses you had grown to love in your years as a married couple, the kind that said you’re my best friend in not so many words. This was a kiss of adoration, of devotion, of pure reverence for your husband and the life you had finally created together. “We’re having a baby.”

#hockey fanfic #hockey writing #brock boeser #hockey imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #nhl writing #hockey fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #realized four hours after posting that I never added a title oops

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ikeepbookkeeping · 2 years

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10 Things Disruptive Founders do Better Than Anyone Else

In case you hadn’t noticed, 7.6 billion people, and counting are going to need more disruptive businesses and there is no shortage of problems for founders to find, address and produce.

What does it take?

Unfortunately, there is no Entrepreneur by numbers book, magic bullet or even a course you can take that will make you a disruptive founder.

What is true disruption? The impact must be felt by millions of people.

Is Tesla disrupting the car industry, or fossil fuels?

Is Google disrupting advertising, distribution of information or libraries?

Is Amazon disrupting books, the post man, retail or the entire workforce?

Here are the 10 attributes I have found in successful founders.

1. Competitive Mongrel. (as in fiercely competitive)

Matt Barrie, CEO of Freelancer Limited, states the fact that “an A Grade Team with a B grade idea will always beat a B grade team with an A Grade idea”. Emphasis on the word beat.

If you want to change the world, you are going to get some knockers. Australia is famous for its “Tall Poppy” syndrome. When Matt won Entrepreneur of the Year, the very next day he came to see me, with a copy of the BRW magazine which had emblazoned his picture.

He wrote on it to me “I couldn’t have done it without you (yet)”. Nothing short of relentless effort will do. As competition heats up, the best double their efforts. Watch this space.

2. They are obsessed with knowledge

With this supreme knowledge, that only a few have obsessed over, a disruptive founder will enlighten their team, attain viral growth and sustain that velocity.

Mitch Harper, Co-Founder of BigCommerce, one of Australia’s world class tech companies, exhibits this quality. I am lucky enough to see Mitch in action, and this guy knows his stuff.

3. Ruthless honesty

It is the perception of value, rather than the scientific cost benefit analysis, that engages customers exponentially.

4. Curiosity…better again, they just work it out.

The most common question I am by first time founders as a mentor is “what should I focus on?”

Matt Dickinson, is a king of arbitrage. He recognises patterns, and has a black belt in research. He is expert at overlaying systems and data, has courage to burn and executes with precision.

5. They back themselves

6. They have gravitas and build culture

7. They imagine a better world — aka Vision

8. They recognize their blind spots

Access to information, fast, has never been better. Whether for the sake of excellence or a better use of the Founders’ time, this element is a must. Not believing your own B.S. is critical.

These blind spots can then be fixed. Common discussions include problems with a raise, the sizzle in a pitch deck, staff concerns (hiring, firing) or pricing.

9. They are a bit crazy, yep they are whacko.

10. They are system and process thinking devotees but they “just get it” too.

The Big Picture

Is this you? Well get on with it.

So, who am I?

The world you envisage won’t just happen, you have to create the future.

If you would like some help, check out

setup a time

and we can have a chat. Ask us how our

Virtual CFO

services have helped many entrepreneurs learn how to set up a business goal and maximise growth.

#VCFO Services

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