#Go High Level experts

[elicit-digital]

GoHighLevel Pricing & Automation: What You Need to Know in 2025

Unlock the full potential of your business in 2025 with GoHighLevel’s powerful pricing plans and cutting-edge automation tools. Whether you're a marketer, agency owner, or consultant, this guide breaks down everything you need to know—from CRM features to sales funnel automation—so you can choose the right plan and scale smarter. Discover how HighLevel’s all-in-one platform streamlines operations, boosts productivity, and maximizes ROI with expert insights and support. Ready to automate your growth? Dive in now and transform your workflow!

[gohighlevelexpertteam]

The Funnels Guys

A GHL (Go High Level) agency helps businesses automate their marketing, manage leads, build websites and sales funnels, run email and SMS campaigns, and streamline client communications — all in one powerful platform.

Visit Our Website

[megamog]

All the gym leaders have been defeated! I have two Team Star bases left and one more Titan and then the Elite Four. I’m getting there!

I have also been naughty and not attended a single class. TRUANT COMING THROUGH! 😂

[hosenseo1]

I will create high quality white hat profile creation backlinks

SEO Expert and Backlinks Creator

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[hotdoghowitzer]

Friendly reminder that 1: believe it or not there are humans on this planet that currently exist *and* use the internet who do not speak English as their mother tongue, and 2: even native speakers don't always have the best grasp of the language, especially here in the US where our education has been gutted by politicians (however bad you think it is, make it about ten times worse and you'll be in the ballpark)

Reblogged bc the meme is so fucking good though, now you're communicating for realsies!

weary and wary are not the same word and have very different meanings and if i see one more person use wearily when they mean warily I’m gonna combust

[funnelexpert247]

I will be your gohighlevel expert for go high level website and sales funnel

Hello,

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[mariacallous]

The Ocean Sciences Building at the University of Washington in Seattle is a brightly modern, four-story structure, with large glass windows reflecting the bay across the street.

On the afternoon of July 7, 2016, it was being slowly locked down.

Red lights began flashing at the entrances as students and faculty filed out under overcast skies. Eventually, just a handful of people remained inside, preparing to unleash one of the most destructive forces in the natural world: the crushing weight of about 2½ miles of ocean water.

In the building’s high-pressure testing facility, a black, pill-shaped capsule hung from a hoist on the ceiling. About 3 feet long, it was a scale model of a submersible called Cyclops 2, developed by a local startup called OceanGate. The company’s CEO, Stockton Rush, had cofounded the company in 2009 as a sort of submarine charter service, anticipating a growing need for commercial and research trips to the ocean floor. At first, Rush acquired older, steel-hulled subs for expeditions, but in 2013 OceanGate had begun designing what the company called “a revolutionary new manned submersible.” Among the sub’s innovations were its lightweight hull, which was built from carbon fiber and could accommodate more passengers than the spherical cabins traditionally used in deep-sea diving. By 2016, Rush’s dream was to take paying customers down to the most famous shipwreck of them all: the Titanic, 3,800 meters below the surface of the Atlantic Ocean.

Engineers carefully lowered the Cyclops 2 model into the testing tank nose-first, like a bomb being loaded into a silo, and then screwed on the tank’s 3,600-pound lid. Then they began pumping in water, increasing the pressure to mimic a submersible’s dive. If you’re hanging out at sea level, the weight of the atmosphere above you exerts 14.7 pounds per square inch (psi). The deeper you go, the stronger that pressure; at the Titanic’s depth, the pressure is about 6,500 psi. Soon, the pressure gauge on UW’s test tank read 1,000 psi, and it kept ticking up—2,000 psi, 5,000 psi. At about the 73-minute mark, as the pressure in the tank reached 6,500 psi, there was a sudden roar and the tank shuddered violently.

“I felt it in my body,” an OceanGate employee wrote in an email later that night. “The building rocked, and my ears rang for a long time.”

“Scared the shit out of everyone,” he added.

The model had imploded thousands of meters short of the safety margin OceanGate had designed for.

In the high-stakes, high-cost world of crewed submersibles, most engineering teams would have gone back to the drawing board, or at least ordered more models to test. Rush’s company didn’t do either of those things. Instead, within months, OceanGate began building a full-scale Cyclops 2 based on the imploded model. This submersible design, later renamed Titan, eventually made it down to the Titanic in 2021. It even returned to the site for expeditions the next two years. But nearly one year ago, on June 18, 2023, Titan dove to the infamous wreck and imploded, instantly killing all five people onboard, including Rush himself.

The disaster captivated and horrified the world. Deep-sea experts criticized OceanGate’s choices, from Titan’s carbon-fiber construction to Rush’s public disdain for industry regulations, which he believed stifled innovation. Organizations that had worked with OceanGate, including the University of Washington as well as the Boeing Company, released statements denying that they contributed to Titan.

A trove of tens of thousands of internal OceanGate emails, documents, and photographs provided exclusively to WIRED by anonymous sources sheds new light on Titan’s development, from its initial design and manufacture through its first deep-sea operations. The documents, validated by interviews with two third-party suppliers and several former OceanGate employees with intimate knowledge of Titan, reveal never-before-reported details about the design and testing of the submersible. They show that Boeing and the University of Washington were both involved in the early stages of OceanGate’s carbon-fiber sub project, although their work did not make it into the final Titan design. The trove also reveals a company culture in which employees who questioned their bosses’ high-speed approach and decisions were dismissed as overly cautious or even fired. (The former employees who spoke to WIRED have asked not to be named for fear of being sued by the families of those who died aboard the vessel.) Most of all, the documents show how Rush, blinkered by his own ambition to be the Elon Musk of the deep seas, repeatedly overstated OceanGate’s progress and, on at least one occasion, outright lied about significant problems with Titan’s hull, which has not been previously reported.

A representative for OceanGate, which ceased all operations last summer, declined to comment on WIRED’s findings.

[kashverse]

yuji and papamin would probably collect a bunch of flowers for mamamin during their walks🥹💞

evening walks were sacred in the nanami household. they were as essential as brushing your teeth, drinking water, or nanami sighing dramatically at the state of the world. but tonight, you had to sit this one out, thanks to your monthly. yuuji, however, refused to let this injustice go unchallenged. "don’t worry, mama!" he declared, fists on his tiny hips. “i will walk extra for you! double! no, triple!” nanami, already anticipating the inevitable "papa, carry me" halfway through the walk, merely nodded. "that’s very kind of you, yuuji."

“yeah! and i will bring you back something nice!” 

with that, your brave, noble knight and his weary father set off into the cool evening air. 

it didn’t take long for yuuji’s side quest instincts to kick in.

"papa, look! flowers!"

nanami followed his son's pointing finger to a random field of wildflowers. pink, yellow, blue, purple—the whole place looked like a painter sneezed on it. yuuji marched in with purpose, stopping every few seconds to pick a flower, inspecting each one with a level of intensity that made nanami slightly concerned. "this one is pink, like babykuna's hair!" he beamed, twirling a tiny blossom in his fingers. “this one is soft, like your bread, papa!” nanami raised an eyebrow. "my bread is much softer."

"yeah, but I can’t pick your bread from the ground."

nanami opened his mouth, then closed it. fair point. but then came the hardest challenge of all. 

choosing colors.

yuuji, ambitious as ever, decided he needed every color that reminded him of you. which, apparently, was every single color known to mankind. and so, overwhelmed by his own high expectations, he dramatically plopped down in the middle of the field, arms spread like a fallen soldier. "papa, it's too hard," he whined. "mama likes all the colors. i can't pick them all. the world is too big."

nanami, who had not signed up for a philosophical crisis in the middle of an evening walk, sighed and crouched beside his son. "then take a little of everything, yuuji. that way, you won’t have to choose."

yuuji's eyes widened in awe, as if nanami had just revealed the meaning of life. "papa… you’re so smart."

"i try," nanami muttered, gathering some flowers and carefully helping yuuji tie them together with a sturdy piece of grass.

by the time they got home, yuuji stormed into the bedroom at full speed, launching himself onto the bed like a small, enthusiastic meteor. "mama, mama! i bringed—i mean, i brought you something!"

you barely had time to react before a very serious bouquet of wildflowers was shoved into your face. "i picked them just for you!" he beamed, chest puffed out with pride.

"oh, yuuji, they’re beautiful!" you cooed, admiring the colorful mess of flowers and slightly bent grass. meanwhile, nanami, who hadn’t even taken off his walking shoes, was already settling into place beside you, effortlessly resuming his official foot massager duties.

"you went through all this trouble just for me?" you asked, smiling down at your little boy. yuuji nodded furiously. "yep! i walked extra, i picked flowers, and i almost got lost in the big big world."

nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “he sat down in a field for five minutes.” yuuji pouted. "it was a long five minutes."

you giggled, reaching out to ruffle his soft pink hair. "thank you, sweetheart. this is the best bouquet I’ve ever gotten."

yuuji grinned so wide his cheeks almost swallowed his eyes. "i love you, mama!"

"i love you too, baby."

nanami pressed a tired kiss to your temple, still kneading your foot with expert precision. "i think I deserve some credit too," he murmured. "i carried him half the way back."

yuuji nodded sagely. "yeah. papa's muscles are the only reason i made it home alive."

you laughed, your heart full, as your two favorite boys settled in beside you—one with flowers, one with strong massage therapist hands, and both with all the love in the world.

[catboybiologist]

I see you talk a lot about hrt and you seem pretty informed. I also see that you have had really good effects from hrt.

So what I wonder is how much you think it is luck and genetics vs you making the right choices. I can't help but be jealous sometimes. I've had rotten luck and ok genetics it seems.

What's your take on this? Do you think you've been lucky or do you think everyone can do it like you have if they just did it the same way?

So whenever I answer an ask like this, I end up getting spammed with a ton of hrt related questions, and it gets a bit exhausting. So here's my usual disclaimer: I'm not a doctor, nor any kind of medical professional. I'm not an expert on this. I have a little more knowledge about the theory behind hrt than the average person, but not the medical practice. I'm just giving my experiences here.

So I couldn't say for sure, but I think the answer is both? I can't say how much luck is a component, but that said, I think that there's a lot that helped me out just from the troubleshooting end.

This answer ended up being long, so here's a tl;dr:

Be liberal on your estrogen, conservative on your antiandrogen. Eat a lot, exercise a lot.

Huge ramble under the cut.

It's hard to say that I looked feminine pre HRT. I had (and still somewhat have) all of the "ultra masculine" skeletal features that make people think their transition is going to go poorly, but the soft tissue changes have reframed how they look and function. I used to think that I would never come close to looking feminine without super intense FFS, and that feeling is almost completely gone now. So I didn't feel particularly lucky going into any of this. Now I do, and I'm finally actually relaxing how good hrt has been to me.

I did several things that I think accelerated my hrt. Unfortunately, I can't have a control group here. I also operated over a short period of time, during a period where hrt has a variety of effects. I have no way to tell for sure if these things did anything, or if it's all just masked by standard hrt progress, which comes and goes in bursts.

Also note: I don't think anything has dramatically affected my "final" results. I think there's a lot of things that have accelerated my results. But with ongoing, years long processes like HRT, the biggest, key ingredient is PATIENCE. I keep seeing 2 years thrown around like it's the end of hrt progress. This is, quite frankly, ridiculous. 2 years is startup and troubleshooting time. Whatever development happens in the first two years is a bonus, not a normal timeline.

So never, ever feel like you've fucked up your transition for good. You can always tweak it. And, you can always wait.

That all said, here's the bulleted list of the things that I think contributed:

Intensely focusing on getting my blood estrogen high. Stop thinking about dosages, start thinking about levels. From anecdotes I've seen, most doctors will underdose your estradiol. You should be shooting for 200pg/mL minimum. Many doctors will use this as a maximum. That is outdated information. Your estrogen should be on the high side of cis women ranges. If you're lost, use cis women metrics as a guide, or the WPATH. Personally, I've been blessed with a fantastic provider that I've never had to push back to or argue with, but I've heard some nasty horror stories.

Note that achieving the level I said above is often difficult with pills. Pills do have a maximum safe dosage because of liver metabolism. This will vary from person to person. But if you're getting past 8mg oral per day, consider switching to injections, patches, or gels. These methods bypass digestion and (somewhat) dodge the liver, making it easier to safely get higher blood levels. Even if you try to take them sublingually, a lot still ends up consumed orally.

HRT methods that allow for large differences between estrogen highs and lows seem to be more effective than steady state HRT. This is completely shooting in the dark here, but from my vague anecdotes from comparing injections with peaks and troughs to more steady (but still lover bypassing) methods, it still seems like injections are somewhat more effective. That is not a scientific assessment at all. But that's the only explanation I could think of that matches a little bit of what's known about hormonal physiology

With everything above: if possible, drop your antiandrogen ASAP. A pattern I've seen over, and over, and over again, is trans women being overdosed on antiandrogens while simultaneously being underdosed on estradiol itself. Remember: sufficiently high levels of blood estrogen are antiandrogenic on their own. If you need a AA to keep your T or other androgens low, your E is likely too low anyways. There's multiple reasons why having too much androgen suppression without raising estradiol is bad, but for a whirlwind summary, there's two things I would break it down to. One, having too low of both T and E is really bad, and is basically one of the only ways you can do HRT "wrong" in a way that's medically harmful (the other being stressing your liver). It has effects both short term (mood, metabolism, and energy) and long term (bone density and general growth). Also keep in mind that cis women have androgens too- and you need to make sure you're not over suppressing androgens to below cis female levels. Two, antiandrogens are rarely just an antiandrogen. As opposed to hormones themselves, which are found in your body anyways and are "understood" signals for your genes (among other things), antiandrogens are operating based on how we develop their effects as pharmaceuticals. Does this mean they're intrinsically bad? No. Don't fall into a "natural is better" fallacy. However, it's worth noting that AAs can have effects beyond just androgen suppression because they're not an endogenous signalling molecule. One of these effects might be overall suppression of growth and development. That is wildly unconfirmed, I know transfemmescience disagrees and has a pretty thorough breakdown, but unfortunately there's too much variability in individual trans women's HRT regimens to have consistent studies on fine details like that imo. Again, this is my opinion as a patient, not as an expert.

Don't start progesterone too early. I'd say delay it more than the general advice. 6 months after good blood levels is probably good. Notably, it's probably not a good idea to start it 6 months after the first pill crosses your tongue. Wait for the levels. Probably not that big of a deal though.

This last one I'm incredibly reluctant to even talk about, but I've been coming to the conclusion more and more that it was a fairly major factor in my progress. I didn't do it intentionally but it 100% happened. And that is weight cycling. From January to August of 2024, I dropped almost 30 pounds from training for backpacking and actually doing rigorous backpacking for 3 months. I've gained back all of that weight since. Most of my notable soft tissue and appearance changes have happened as a function of putting that weight back on. This isn't just about chest or thigh growth. My face was thin at my lowest weight, and when I put weight back on, soft tissue in my face has grown back in with a far more feminine look. I do NOT like talking about this, though. Why? Because I think deliberately weight cycling is more dangerous and hurtful than it is helpful. Diet culture, counting calories, and constantly comparing your weight and progress to others is an easy way to an easier disorder. If you develop habits centered around those things, that will fuck up your life permanently. What would I recommend instead? High input, high output. Eat a LOT, exercise a LOT. Get into a steady state with that. It's much healthier long term. Remember, at best, weight cycling is an acceleration, not working towards better "permanent" results.

And uh, I think that's it? Again, keep in mind that the main ingredient is patience. All of this is about making things faster, not making things better in the long run. If any of this seems unattainable for you, then don't worry! All you gotta do is wait.

And again, not medical advice, not scientific rigor, just anecdotes and what worked for me.

I don't have a better way to end this other than good luck? And also that you're probably being too hard on yourself anyways.

[reasonsforhope]

"Amsterdam’s roofs have just been converted into a giant sponge that will make the city more climate resilient.

The Dutch have always been famous for their ability to control water, born out of the necessity of their homeland, much of which is below sea level.

Now, their expert water management skills are transforming the city skyline in the capital city of Amsterdam from one of terracotta tile, concrete, and shingles into green grass and brown earth.

It’s part of a new climate-resiliency trend in architecture and civic planning known as the ‘sponge city concept,’ in which a garden of water-loving plants, mosses, and soil absorbs excess rainwater before feeding it into the building for use in flushing toilets or watering plants on the ground.

If heavy rains are predicted, a smart valve system empties the stored rainwater into the municipal storm drains and sewers in advance of the weather, allowing the roof to soak up water and reduce flooding in the city.

In this way, the rooftops of buildings can be wrung out and filled up just like a sponge.

In Amsterdam, 45,000 square meters, or 11 acres of flat metropolitan rooftops have already been fitted with these systems, and the contracting firms behind the technology say they make sense in dry climates like Spain just as much as in wet climates like Amsterdam...

A 4-year project of different firms and organizations��called Resilio, the resilient network for smart climate adaptive rooftops, rolled out thousands of square meters of sponge city technology into new buildings. As with many climate technologies, the costs are high upfront but tend to result in savings from several expenditures like water utilities and water damage, over a long-enough time horizon...

All together, Amsterdam’s sponge capacity is over 120,000 gallons.

“We think the concept is applicable to many urban areas around the world,” Kasper Spaan from Waternet, Amsterdam’s public water management organization, told Wired Magazine. “In the south of Europe–Italy and Spain–where there are really drought-stressed areas, there’s new attention for rainwater catchment.”

Indeed the sponge city concept comes into a different shade when installed in drought-prone regions. Waters absorbed by rooftops during heavy rains can be used for municipal purposes to reduce pressure on underground aquifers or rivers, or be sweated out under the Sun’s rays which cools the interior of the building naturally.

Additionally, if solar panels were added on top of the rooftop garden, the evaporation would keep the panels cooler, which has been shown in other projects to improve their energy generation.

“Our philosophy in the end is not that on every roof, everything is possible,” says Spaan, “but that on every roof, something is possible.”

Matt Simon, reporting on the Resilio project for Wired, said succinctly that perhaps science fiction authors have missed the mark when it came to envisioning the city of the future, and that rather than being a glittering metropolis of glass, metal, and marble as smooth as a pannacotta, it will look an awful lot more like an enormous sculpture garden."

-via Good News Network, May 15, 2024

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - off the record (part one)

part one ; breaking news and breaking points

warnings ; none!

prompt ; in which you’re paired with your insufferably charming ex-academic rival turned coworker to cover a congressional scandal, and suddenly, professional boundaries becomes the only thing holding you two apart.

note ; okay. hi. hello. me again! this authors note is going to be delirious because it is quite literally 2am as i edit this and i am shot. regardless — welcome to off the record! this is my baby. my child. my toddler who can’t walk or speak yet but the concept is there

let’s get one thing straight: i am NOT a politician. i do not work in politics, i do not enjoy american politics and i most certainly am no expert. i almost failed government in high school. i’m not sure of the accuracy of White House journalism but i do know one thing. i tried my very best!! so gold star for ang <3

anyway! welcome to the disaster. this is a rom-com, emphasis on the com because these two idiots are so deep in denial. we’re talking enemies-to-lovers, but in the “we’ve been rivals since college and now sit two rows apart at white house briefings” kind of way. grab some tea. snuggle your cat. scream into a pillow. idk, whatever works for you

playlist here

series masterlist here

The thing about White House press briefings is, if you don’t speak fast, Jungkook Jeon will.

And then you’ll have to watch his stupid little smirk on the screens in the newsroom all night while your editor asks why you didn’t ask the damn question.

You raise your hand, nearly leap out of your seat to deliver the inquiry you scribbled messily in the margins of your notepad. It’s something about a new federal rollout; dry on paper, but a minefield of public and private backdoor deals if you phrase it right. The question is halfway out of your mouth before—

“Secretary Thompson,” comes a voice from three rows back, “can you clarify whether the administration still plans to partner with private sector organizations despite last quarter’s concerns?”

Goddamnit.

You slump in your chair. Of course he gets there first.

It’s a clean question. Sharp. Subtle accusation wrapped in neutral intonation. The kind of question that makes cabinet members pause and choose their words very carefully, which Secretary Thompson now does, leaning forward and clearing her throat, visibly recalibrating.

You don’t have to turn around to know he’s sitting back in his chair like he owns the damn room. The entire Metro ride spent rehearsing that question, complete with dramatic pauses practiced between stops, has been hijacked by someone who waited until your mouth formed the first syllable before swooping in.

You turn slowly, against your better judgement. The muscles on your face achieve that special brand of neutrality that actually translates to: I'm mentally signing you up for a lifetime subscription to minor inconveniences. May your phone forever hover at 1% battery and may your socks perpetually slip down inside your shoes.

Three rows behind sits the human embodiment of your nightmares, looking like he just won a gold medal in the sport of Question Sniping, expression carrying a level of smugness you want to smack right off his face. And like, yeah, it’s fine that he beat you to the punch but you’re oddly impressed by how effortlessly he did it.

He’s sporting a black suit with no tie. Because heaven forbid he follow even the most basic protocols of professionalism. Elbow slung across the chair next to him like this is a casual Monday coffee run and not a federal media gauntlet. He’s already relaxing in his seat like he didn’t just outflank you in broad daylight.

He grins at you from across the pressroom, a perfect display of professionally whitened teeth that makes you contemplate the legality of throwing your pen across the room.

Disgusting.

You whip your head back to the front before you commit a felony in front of a sitting cabinet member. Immediately, you’re pulling your phone out of your back pocket, opening up iMessage.

Okay, count to ten. One, two, three…

Mentally, you’re trying to imagine your therapist's voice saying something about "workplace appropriate responses to colleagues” (although your therapist has never met Jeon Jungkook and is therefore woefully unprepared to provide relevant advice in this situation.)

Physically, your jaw tightens with the force of some unspoken comeback.

He always does this.

And the worst part isn't just that his strategy works consistently, or that Secretary Thompson is now giving a rehearsed answer that will yield exactly one (1) usable quote for his article; it's that microscopic part of you that recognizes the brilliance of his approach.

You learned this the hard way four years ago, during your very first White House press briefing fresh out of Columbia University, notepad filled with questions you’d rewritten five different times, trying not to sweat through your blouse because Jeon Jungkook was five seats away.

You hadn’t seen him since graduation. Not since he walked off that stage behind you; second in your class, already being courted by every network with a pulse. You’d hoped that being hired at competing outlets might mean distance. Space to build your career without having to look over your shoulder every time you submitted a story.

No such luck.

He was already there when you entered the briefing room for the first time. Already seated, sporting that annoying smile when he spotted you in the doorway.

You still remember the way his voice cut through the room like it belonged there. Just the right amount of bite to make the congressman answering the question squirm. It wasn’t even a bad question, but it was sharp enough to make everyone sit up, and that was the point when playing with American politics.

One doesn’t need to be liked. They need to be remembered.

You’d raised your hand right after. You were so determined not to let him win the room that you misread the energy entirely. And when the mic came to you, you fumbled. It wasn’t with the content — you’d done your research, you always did — but with the delivery. You were trying so hard to seem composed, to prove you deserved to be there, that your voice went flat. You didn’t breathe between sentences or really pace the question.

And the congressman, an older man with a short temper and a penchant for being rattled, cut you off mid-sentence. He waved a hand like you were a mosquito buzzing too close to his ear.

“Get to the point please,” He’d said, clearly annoyed.

You had, but the damage was done.

And Jungkook? He didn't even need to smirk — a restraint that somehow made his victory all the more infuriating. He just leaned forward, elbows on knees, lips pressed in a neutral line. But you knew him well enough to spot the amusement hiding in his eyes. He didn't look directly at you because that would've been too obvious, too much like admitting that this little press room dance of yours is his favorite form of foreplay, which is precisely the kind of vulnerability neither of you would ever confess to even under the influence of truth serum.

Either way, Jungkook never needs to gloat out loud. He just waits for you to see that he saw.

That’s how it started. The silent, deadly, professional tug-of-war that is probably so entertaining for onlookers that the White House should start selling tickets.

Four years later and nothing’s changed — except now you’ve learned how to play the game too. How to keep your voice calm, how to pace your brain, how to smile like a threat. You studied your opponents playbook until the pages wore thin.

So you sit there, pen poised, chin high, and let Secretary Thompson drone on for another minute while the reporters around you settle. Jungkook is probably lounging in the back like the cocky bastard he is, no doubt smiling like a motherfucker.

When the next lull in her sentence comes, you speak.

“Madam Secretary, given the administration’s recent walkback on infrastructure spending and the pivot toward incentivizing private sector, can you clarify what measures are in place for companies receiving federal subsidies, especially those with prior violations?”

The room stills like a sitcom freeze frame, where some narrator would quip "it was at this moment they knew..." as your question hangs in the air.

Thompson blinks twice. And then, to everyone’s surprise including your own, she smiles; it’s a genuine reaction, not the wide campaign-trail grin but the subtle acknowledgment that screams, finally, a real question from someone who did their homework instead of skimming the briefing notes.

She answers in detail. All lengthy and thoughtful and some political jargon you’re jotting in your notepad like a madman. Meanwhile your chest burns with the sweet, silent glow of victory, something your overachieving soul has been chasing since you color-coded your first set of flash cards in elementary school.

You know it’s there before you see it — Jungkook’s gaze.

There will be no swiveling of your neck to face him because turning would mean acknowledging, and acknowledging would mean giving away a fraction of this perfect moment; you don't need visual confirmation when you can practically feel him watching, probably chewing the inside of his cheek with that nervous habit he thinks nobody notices, calculating how he missed this angle while the room leans forward collectively, listening harder now than they were during his question.

God, it is tempting, though.

Just one glance. One raised brow. Maybe even a middle finger held discreetly under your notepad.

But you’re better than that.

…Mostly.

Still, the corner of your mouth twitches microscopically.

Game on, Jeon. Let’s see who wins this round.

The next thirty minutes go by just like this:

You raise your hand to try and get another question in, he mirrors you half a second later.

You jot down a quote, he glances up like he’s writing the same one faster.

You whisper something to the correspondent next to you, and he makes a point to become the world’s friendliest man.

By the time the briefing wraps, your notepad is full, your recorder has thirty solid minutes of good material, and your blood pressure is only slightly elevated — which you’re going to count as a win. Secretary Thompson gives her usual nod, the press secretary calls it and the room begins to scatter in that chaotic shuffle unique to people who have five minutes to rewrite a headline before someone else beats them to it.

You pack up, shoving pens and postits and a mildly passive-aggressive question list into your leather tote. It’s not like you’re in a rush. You’ve got what you need. Jenna — your editor, manager, queen of never being impressed — will actually be pleased for once. Last week she told you your questions were “good, not great” which you’ve translated to mean “where’s the political bloodshed?” But today, you’ve got enough edge to headline the next two cycles.

You’re halfway to the exit, steps quick against the marble floor, when you hear it—

Shoes.

Nice ones. Expensive, but already too broken-in to be new.

And they’re moving quickly like the fire alarm just went off.

Your eyes don’t have to spare a look. Your spine already knows who it is.

You sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder, and keep walking. If you ignore him long enough, he might combust from the lack of attention.

“Smooth question.”

You blink up at the hallway ahead of you. What was that counting trick you were doing earlier? Oh, right.. four, five, six....

A sigh heaves from the depths of your lungs. Quite loudly it echoes off the walls.

“Jungkook.” you begin, not slowing your pace, “If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask the intern to print it out and shred it for recycling.”

He laughs at that amusedly.

“Come on,” he retorts, falling into step beside you now, “You stole my topic and framed it better. That was… mildly impressive.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s got his press badge tucked half into his blazer pocket like it’s too cool to wear properly, and the top button of his shirt is now undone.

“Oh no,” you deadpan. “Mildly impressive? Should I frame that statement and hang it next to my degree? My… valedictorian degree, perhaps?”

He leans in, a little too close for comfort. “Don’t worry. Mine’s right behind yours.”

You bite back a smile that threatens to show face. “And don’t you forget it.”

“You know, you’re lucky I didn’t ask a second question just to steal the narrative out from under you,” Jungkook sticks his hands in his pockets, pulling out a packet of gum.

Your eyes roll back into your frontal lobe, “Oh, I’m counting on it. Watching you try to top yourself is half the fun.”

Your feet betray you before you have a chance to stop them, and they stop walking, finally turn to face him. “Are you like this with everyone? I’m starting to get a little flattered.”

He looks at you for a second longer than you like. No smirk this time, just that stillness he gets when he’s thinking. Or, worse… he’s about to be really, really honest.

He shrugs, pops the gum in his mouth, smile creeping back into place like it never left. “Nah,” he’s already walking backwards toward the exit. “You’re the only one who bites back.”

His body disappears into the hallway crowd as if he knows exactly when to exit a scene, melting into the Washington ecosystem of power suits, security earpieces, and polished shoes on marble.

Jeon Jungkook is an insufferable bastard — one of the best-of-breed kind of bastards, possibly the best one you’ve ever had the pleasure (or displeasure, depending on the angle) of going to school with. Decidedly not bad on the eyes, which is unfortunate. Counterproductive, really. Because it’s hard to maintain a healthy level of hatred toward someone when their jawline could headline a fashion campaign and their smirks come pre-loaded with cinematic timing.

And yet, somehow, you manage.

Ever since freshman year when he walked into your public policy seminar and had the audacity to sit in the front row — the seat you always took, the one closest to the professor, the one with the best lighting for scribbling down notes. He didn’t even glance at you when he took it.

You clashed immediately. Over literally everything. Theories and tone and comma placement. Who should’ve been chosen to moderate the midterm debate and who had more credible citations in their annotated bibliography. You can’t even remember the first real argument anymore; all you know is it escalated quickly, something about a poorly formatted slide deck and a long-winded tangent on federalism that he thought was charming and you thought were grounds for expulsion.

To your luck, that turned into this.

Into years of mutual loathing, thinly veiled behind professional respect that makes your coworkers say things like “you two should interview a senator together!” while you fantasize about pushing him down a flight of stairs and then writing his obituary out of spite.

You can’t describe your relationship with Jungkook without sounding emotionally unstable. It’s not just because he got that one A+ in International Relations. It’s not some awkward sexual tension. It’s whatever exists in that middle ground between admiration and provocation.

Listen, you recognize his intelligence. He definitely recognizes your ambition. He’s just always been naturally, effortlessly good. Jungkook doesn’t have to rehearse or over-prepare or go through mental flowcharts in the mirror before a press event.

And the only thing worse than someone who always competes with you is someone who doesn’t have to.

That’s what always gets you. You’ve spent your entire career building scaffolding around every step forward and you are nothing if not methodical. And then he waltzes in with gel in his hair and throws out a line you write down immediately to send to Jenna.

You push the briefing room door open with your hip and walk in, tote clutched tightly.

Emma doesn’t look up. Her fingers are flying over her laptop, nails clacking against keys in short bursts of aggression. Brows furrowed, glasses slipping slightly down her nose, and her tongue is poking between her teeth the way it always does.

“Any luck?” you ask, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl that you’re 98% sure was only restocked because Emma guilt-tripped the White House kitchen staff with that one story she wrote about USDA budget cuts and “the symbolic death of the American apple.”

She grunts in response, closing her laptop quickly and swiveling to face you in her chair.

You bite into the apple, placing your heavy bag down on the floor beside your desk, which is conveniently always placed next to hers.

“How was Jungkook today?” She asks casually as if it’s not one of the most emotionally loaded questions a person can be asked. It’s a routine part of your dynamic at this point. Morning coffee, afternoon sarcasm, and one post-briefing debrief where Emma asks you how Jungkook was, and you pretend he wasn’t Jungkook.

“Obnoxious,” you shrug instantly. “Duh.”

Emma snorts while you continue on, rotating your apple to take another bite. “He was wearing this stupid smile today. I lowkey feel like he was more smug than normal.“

Emma hums knowingly. “That’s your favorite one.”

You ignore that. Just Emma being Emma.

“And of course,” you exhale, “he asked my question.”

That gets her attention.

She scoots her chair toward you slowly, like she’s gearing up for the best tea of her life. “Wait. The question? The one about partnering with private sector organizations?”

“The very one,” You sigh dramatically.

Emma gasps, places a hand over her chest. “He didn’t.”

“Oh, but he did,” you say, taking another bite of your apple, chewing long enough to build suspense. “Fell for it and beat me to it by two seconds.“

She clutches her heart like she’s just witnessed a murder. “War criminal. Both you and him.”

“It’s fine,” you snicker to yourself. “Took the bait like always. Already texted it to Jenna.“

So… there’s this minor (major) thing you do that if anyone finds out, you’re absolutely getting the boot off the Hill. You leave notes around the newsrooms with concepts that you plan to ask at the press briefings and your initials on the paper, and when Jungkook inevitably picks one up and asks them, you send the answer to Jenna. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Emma groans and throws her head back, dark brown hair cascading down her shoulders. “God, how do you come up with this? It’s diabolical.”

“I know.”

“You’re evil.”

“I know.”

She looks at you, tilts her neck, considers. “One of these days I’m gonna get it out of you… why you hate him so much. I swear to god, if the White House ever releases security cam footage, it’s over for you.”

You scoff, leaning against your desk. “Because he’s annoying.. and arrogant and—”

There’s a pause while your narrow your eyes like you’re compiling a legal case. “He’s allergic to shirts that fit.”

Emma just blinks at you.

“It’s not complicated,” You wave her off.

“Mmm,” she says unconvinced, already spinning back toward her laptop. “Sure. Not complicated. That’s exactly what people say before saying something really complicated.”

You flip her off.

She blows you a kiss, raising her watered-down iced latte as a toast, “I wish you a very get well soon.”

It’s nice having Emma. Someone who gets it. She was the only one who didn’t blink when you got hired straight out of school, the only one who didn’t second guess it when you worked your way into every White House event rotation. She never asks why you work late or why your standards are too high.

Emma’s seen you at your most terrifying and your most tired and knows they’re usually the same thing.

You finish your apple, toss the core into the bin, and stretch your neck. You’ve got a headline to punch up, an editor to impress, and a man to destroy.

Before you even have a chance to settle into your uncomfortable chair, Jenna, woman of the hour, bursts into the room like she’s just outrun a breaking news alert.

She’s breathless, auburn hair slightly windblown like she sprinted down the hall, which she probably did — Jenna’s never walked a day in her life. She’s powered exclusively by the adrenaline of publishing scoops before Politico can even spellcheck theirs.

“There you are!” she gasps, practically skidding to a stop beside your desk. Almost like you’ve been playing hide-and-seek instead of sitting where you’re supposed to be.

Emma startles, half-spilling her iced latte.

You don’t even look up from computer that you just rebooted on to life. “Hello to you too, Jenna. Everything okay?”

“Better than okay.” She’s already tossing her phone onto the nearest desk, face alight with manic glee that usually only happens when your publication beats everyone else to the punch. “We published first. That question you texted me. I’m already having it run the evening slot with a featured quote box and a goddamn infographic. Do you know how rare infographics are on pieces like this?”

Emma perks up immediately. “Infographics?”

“Motion animated ones. And it’s outperforming by like 400%. Who fed him that question? I know that was you. Don’t lie to me, you little minx.” Jenna’s eyes are sparkling, hazel flecks in her eyes popping out more than normal.

You blink at her, expression calm, the exact opposite of the excitement living beneath your ribs. “Hm. Was it me?”

“Was it?” Jenna nearly falls over the desk. “You literally texted it to me two seconds after he opened his mouth so I have my suspicions. I watched the tapes back.”

You shrug, sipping from your water bottle. “What can I say? Quick fingers. Predictable men.”

Jenna stares at you. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Well, I have noticed… if I leave a well-worded, question lying within reach, he’ll take it. Should I be reporting him?” Your degree was in Political Science, but right now, it’s sounding a lot more like Lying.

Emma coughs on her coffee. “Oh my god.”

“He delivers it perfectly. He never even changes the phrasing!! Almost like he wants me to know he found it,” You mimic a toddler who got pushed on the playground, all false petulance.

Jenna groans, facepalming. “Jesus, that’s terrifying. Worse than finding out you’re doing it on purpose.”

Emma gapes and plays along with it, your trusty sidekick. “He’s using you like a human press puppet.”

You smile. “Whatever. I got the best answer out of Secretary Thompson today anyway.”

You’re not wrong. Not entirely. In fact, you’re opening up Google Docs as you speak to start typing before any person beats you to the punch.

“Well,” Jenna begins, “Great job today.”

Mission accomplished.

Despite everything, you’re pretty pleased with yourself. Emma’s shoulders sag a little with those three words, though you hardly notice.

You sit back in your chair, fingers hovering over your keyboard.

Another question, another quote, another game won.

It’s not cheating. It’s journalism, baby.

Later that night, the building hums like it’s finally exhaled after holding its breath all day, kind of peaceful in the way only Capitol Hill can be when it’s past five and most of the egos have gone home. The usual bustle has evaporated into a familiar sound of click-clacking keyboards and the hum of vending machines that will forever only take singles.

You’re probably the only person left. Well. You and Jenna. But Jenna doesn’t really count — you swear to god she pays rent here.

She exists in this windowless purgatory like it’s her personal loft. Her desk is still lit, hair up in a claw clip. There’s a cold coffee sweating beside her keyboard and an unopened granola bar that’s been sitting there since at least noon. Her coat is slung over the back of her chair in a way that implies she might leave. News flash: she won’t.

Meanwhile you’re cross-referencing quote attributions for the day’s coverage when it hits.

Ping.

You barely register it at first. Just another email in the never-ending trickle of nonsense from Washington’s most noisy inbox.

But the subject line awakens something in you, jolts you back onto earth after being a zombie for the past three hours.

From: pressroom@cnnpolitics.com

Subject: URGENT — CONFIRMED LEAK: Rep. Monroe / Rep. Delgado

Your heart skips and then sprints to catch up. You open the email, trepidation bleeding into your every movement like it might bite. Skimming it at first glance, you see a bunch of buzz words: late night, caught, office, intern.

And then you're up out of your chair like you spotted free coffee in the break room before anyone else, your demeanor shattered by what's glowing on your screen.

“Jenna.”

No answer comes from your editor, who's apparently developed selective hearing after years of people bringing her stories that are "definitely going to change everything."

“Jenna!”

Her chair swivels, eyes already squinting. “What.” she says, less a question and more a verbal eyeroll.

You motion her over. She groans, wheels her chair two feet, and reads over your shoulder.

She doesn’t speak for a full five seconds, a silence so profound you’re starting to think you misinterpreted the email.

“Holy shit.”

Your head bobs up and down once. “Yeah.”

Both of you stand. Stare at the screen like the text might dissolve if you blink. The email is brief but pretty brutal. Something about a late-night vote hold, a closed-door committee session, and Monroe being seen leaving Delgado’s office at 1:43 a.m. by a very chatty intern with no understanding of political discretion. It’s like the equivalent of catching Romeo leaving Juliet’s balcony.

“Please tell me we’re already writing this,” Jenna breathes, pulling her phone out and typing. “Tell me we’re not about to get scooped.”

You’re already closing your laptop. “We’re not. I just got this a minute ago.”

“Crap, okay,” she undoes her claw clip, runs a hand through her tangled locks. “You think NBC and Fox got word too?”

“Probably,” You tuck your laptop into your bag. “But… we can figure out what the other teams are saying. If you’re game for it.”

There’s a knowing look you two share, an unspoken understanding that comes from years of working in close quarters.

Just like that, with only a few words shared, you’re both gone — shoulders brushing in the hallway, shoes scuffing in sync as you pass the security desk and head toward the press rooms. Tiny, overcrowded hives filled with correspondents from neighboring organizations who all know something but never enough, all refreshing Twitter, all waiting for the official statement that will inevitably say nothing and everything at once.

You pass two staffers whispering near the elevator, some dude pretending not to be texting frantically in the corner, and a communications intern standing so still you’re not sure if he’s waiting for an answer or just buffering.

Walk faster, you repeat to yourself. No shot you’re losing this battle.

This is it. Every correspondent’s wet dream. The moment when instinct meets information. When knowing the right people and knowing how to read them becomes everything.

Fortunately, you’re good at this. Like, really good at this.

Jenna tugs on your arm as you turn a corner.

“Remember what I said in March?” she mutters. “I told you, these senators get more scandalous by the second.”

“Well, yeah, but that was about the comms director’s divorce and a broken espresso machine,” You remind her.

“Still counts.”

A grin is suppressed from your face. Technically, it is true. In this building, nothing stays quiet for long. Rumors and gossip spread quicker than a high school hallway.

Even though CNN is the top news source in the world — objectively, indisputably, and according to your network’s annual conference PowerPoint — your rivals over at Fox, NBC, and a handful of other outlets you don’t care to name are often your best sources.

Everyone loves to talk and you adore talkers.

The Hill is built on whispers, and your favorite kind of people are the ones who don’t know how to keep secrets in the same breath they use to ask for anonymity. There’s something about long hours and winding hallways that makes people careless with information. Or maybe it’s the sense of power, that euphoric high of having access to things you shouldn’t, stories that haven’t broken yet.

Right now, you’re chasing one of them.

You and Jenna waltz into the Fox press room like you own it (which you don’t, but that’s never stopped you before.)

It’s mostly empty, except for a few people quietly panicking over the situation in that journalist way where they sit very still while their eyes scream.

It’s a solemn few feet of space, lit by flickering fluorescents and decorated with the same kind of soul-crushing government chairs that squeak if you so much as fart. Someone left a takeout container open on one of the desks and you do your best not to inhale near it.

A quick glance of the room tells you all you need to know and then, to your dismay — you see him.

Jungkook.

Hunched over his laptop at the far end of the room like he’s doing important work but probably just rereading something you published earlier to find holes in it. His blazer from the briefing is gone, slung somewhere out of sight, white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows, sleeves creased and casual and — God help you — revealing the tattoos on his right arm.

You’ve only seen it a handful of times. Most people on the Hill haven’t seen it at all. It’s not exactly Capitol dress code.

But he’s Jeon Jungkook so rules were always more like suggestions when it came to him.

Whatever. Not what you came here for. You focus on his colleague, Sana. She’s sharp as hell, desk always covered in four phones and three half-charged battery packs.

Most of the time, you like her. She’s blunt. She doesn’t pretend to like you more than she does, and she gives enough if you know how to ask.

“Sana,” You say, all business-like, sliding into her personal space like this is a casual catch-up and not an intel sweep. Jenna lingers behind you like a henchwoman.

Sana glances up and sighs. “What now?”

“Looking for background on Monroe and Delgado,” You busy yourself with your nail beds, pretending to be focused on the fact that your polish is chipping slightly.

“I know that’s not true,” she says, still typing. “You never ask for background. You ask for the stuff that makes our lawyers sweat.”

You smile, full canines on display. “Come on. You know I’d never get you sued. Fired, maybe.”

“Not funny.”

“A little funny.”

Sana rolls her eyes. “What do you want?”

You’re about to lean in with the next carefully worded ask when he speaks.

“You could just ask me, you know,” comes Jungkook’s voice from the corner of the room.

You don’t dare turn around.

Begrudgingly, you sigh, loud enough for him to hear. “Didn’t realize you were qualified to speak on matters you didn’t fabricate.”

Behind you, Jenna snorts.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat.

“You wound me,” he fires back. You can smell the sarcasm in his voice. “Especially after I gifted you that question earlier.”

You spin your body slowly to glance at him. He’s already looking at you, fingers paused over his keyboard, head tilted, one brow raised like he’s genuinely curious how you’ll respond.

Sometimes he does this. Pretends you’re having a conversation when you’re in the middle of ignoring him. Like he’s the main character and you’re just the supporting plot that hasn’t fallen for his clown act yet.

“I’d say thank you,” you retort, “but I think you’re confusing mediocrity for generosity.”

His mouth twitches, doesn't quite reach his eyes but manages to rattle something in your chest like a perfectly aimed pebble against a window, making noise without breaking glass.

“Well,” he stretches slightly in his chair, ink on his arm catching the overhead light, “I guess we’re both useful to each other, aren’t we?”

Verbally, there’s no response you can come up with. Almost like you’re trying to capture a complex emotion with an emoji.

He refuses to look away from you. All you can muster up is meeting his gaze, forcing your eyes not to back down from his own deep brown ones.

Which is stupid and arrogant of him.

And deeply, profoundly annoying.

One day, you’ll create a PowerPoint presentation documenting all the reasons he should be knocked down several pegs.

But, also, he’s kind of—

No.

No, not going there.

You turn back to Sana, who’s watching the whole exchange with the vaguely interested expression of someone who’s seen this movie before.

“Anyway,” you say, tone firm, “back to the real work.”

Jungkook chuckles under his breath sadistically.

Sana raises a brow. She adjusts her posture, closes out of whatever she was doing, and gives you that look. Sneaky one, might you add.

Jenna settles into the empty seat next to Sana with a soft thunk, all amusement and quiet observation, as if she’s pulled up to a live podcast and knows better than to interrupt the good part.

You lean in just a little, palms firmly planted down on her desk.

“You’ve always had great instincts,” you begin sweetly, “Way better than that guy over at NBC who thinks ‘no comment’ is an acceptable answer. And honestly? You’re usually two steps ahead of everyone in this room, including me.”

Sana’s face falls flat. “Flattery’s not free.”

“I’m just stating facts,” you reply, twirling your hair around your finger. “But if you happened to know anything about where Monroe actually was during the vote delay, and with who, and if that info happened to fall into my lap by accident…”

She taps her desk once.

You pause for dramatic effect. Jenna says nothing.

You know it’s working. Cross your heart and hope to die, Sana’s resolve is softening enough to consider it. This is the rhythm you’ve lived and died by for the past four years: collect the whispers, push at the edges, find the person who wants to feel a little important, and let them talk.

You hear the chair scrape before the words follow.

“Okay, you’re scalping her,” Jungkook says flatly, rising from his area like he’s decided to intervene on moral grounds — which is rich, considering he spent last week casually rephrasing your own coverage on-air without blinking.

You don’t even bat an eyelash in his direction.

“Boohoo,” you briefly flip through your mental Rolodex of dismissive expressions, “call the ethics board, Jeon.”

You hear his footsteps. He’s walking over like someone about to cut the red wire, like this is a bomb he’s been called in to defuse.

“Seriously,” he now stands a few feet away, arms crossed, that infuriatingly amused expression plastered across his stupidly symmetrical face. “You’ve got her in a journalistic chokehold. It’s not even subtle.”

You peer over at him and flutter your lashes innocently. “You’d prefer subtle? That’s funny, coming from the guy who once baited a senator with free Red Bull to confirm a time stamp.”

“That was different.”

“That was illegal.”

“It was unofficial.”

You scoff. “Right. Just like your fact-checking process.”

Jenna leans her chin on her fist and sighs. “Hereeee we go.”

Sana barely spares a look up. “Can you two keep it down? Some of us are trying to break a government scandal before midnight.”

Your lips are formed tightly in a line. “I’m so sorry. He just follows me everywhere.”

“This is literally the Fox pressroom.” Jungkook spits out automatically.

“And yet somehow I’m more valuable here than you are.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

You turn fully now, squaring your shoulders like this is war and he just stepped onto your side of the trench. He’s close enough that you can smell his cologne — something citrusy and woodsy that makes your thoughts inconveniently disorganized. Jaw set in that infuriating way it does when he thinks he’s being reasonable.

“You know,” he tilts his head slightly, “at some point, you’re gonna run out of tricks.”

“Jungkook, you still fall for all of them.”

Sana mutters something about noise levels.

There’s a smile on your face you do not mean. Jungkook’s watching you intently now, clearly waiting for the moment you lose your cool, which you won’t. You don’t lose your cool. That’s your thing. Your signature move. You’re composed, unbothered if you will.

If the others are tired of it? Too damn bad.

Both of you will continue to respectfully decline to flinch first.

“You’re exhausting,” he says, half-laughing, which would be charming if it weren’t directed at you.

“Good,” you snap, “I hope it costs you sleep.”

“I’ve started taking a higher dose of melatonin to account for that.”

Luckily, before you can retaliate with something that will absolutely haunt you in the shower later, Jenna cuts in, phone screen brightly illuminating her face. “Guys…?”

Neither of you turn. You’re in this weird standoff. First one to look away loses.

She’s louder this time. “Um. Guys?”

“What?” You and Jungkook say in unison, like children caught throwing hands in the sandbox.

She blinks at her iPhone once, then twice, and stands slowly, holding her phone out like it might spontaneously detonate.

“I just got the alert,” she swallows deeply. “CNN got invited to a press pool.”

The room stills. Nothing has technically changed, yet somehow everything feels different, like the universe just rearranged its furniture while no one was looking.

You snatch the phone from her hand without a second thought, scanning the email with speed, stomach already dropping because you know what this means.

Fox. NBC. CNN. Wall Street Journal. Pool assignment. Limited access. Confidential source briefings. Strict cooperation protocol.

Jungkook steps closer to read over your shoulder, and you can feel his body heat like a threat. You edge away out of pure spite.

Sana exhales, “Oh, that’s gonna be fun.”

“No,” you murmur, half to her and half to God, “it’s not.”

Jenna sits back down, hand outstretched waiting for her phone back, probably mentally forwarding the email to your entire team with ten exclamation points and the subject line ‘URGENT: PRESS POOL.’

But all your brain can focus on is the last line of the memo: PRESS POOL ASSIGNMENTS WILL BE FINALIZED BY MORNING.

You swallow, jaw setting in place. Currently, you’re trying not to imagine the absolute hell of being locked into a room with Jungkook and being expected to collaborate. Or even worse, share credit.

Press pools are the bane of your entire existence. It’s lazy reporting dressed up in exclusivity, a dog and pony show where no one’s allowed to ask real questions, just “coordinate coverage” and “represent their outlet professionally,” which basically means sit down, shut up, and don’t make your network look like a dick.

It also may have a tiny, minuscule detail to it that you deject everytime; it’s always you and Jungkook they send. The two best damn correspondents on the Hill, which everyone knows, even if they pretend they don’t. You’re the ones they trust to get the job done. To ask the things no one else will.

And that would be flattering — if it didn’t mean getting locked in a room with him, breathing the same recirculated air, trading quotes and knowing exactly which angle he’s going to try and spin. It’s not a compliment anymore. It’s a punishment dressed up in prestige.

Now — if you’ve read that email right (and you have, because you always do) — you’re going to have to share that twenty minute slot with the one man on Earth who treats interviews and policy like some sick game.

You lower the phone slowly, handing it back to Jenna in a daze.

Jenna looks at you, eyes gleaming. “If it makes you feel better, this is gonna be amazing for us.”

“Who’s us?”

You’re already praying for divine intervention. Or a natural disaster. Or a scheduling conflict. Or a press badge malfunction. Literally anything but this.

Really, there should be no surprise when Jenna is showcasing a small smile on her face, the words already forming on the tip of her lip-glossed tongue.

You beat her to it. “Let me guess. You’re going to ask me to go.”

She blinks, then nods sweetly, too sweetly for your liking.

“I mean,” she says, clasping her hands, “you’re the sharpest we’ve got. You’re strategic. Respected on both sides of the aisle—”

“C’mon, I’ve gone to every single one. Can you please send Emma?” You may as well get on your knees and beg at this point.

Jenna disregards that completely.

“I want you to own the scandal,” she corrects, beaming now. “Control the narrative. Just, you know… professionally.“

You roll your eyes so hard you see your own childhood trauma. Turning to Sana, you’re already half-defeated.

“Thanks for your help,” you sigh, giving her a nod. “And for not actively reporting me to HR during that conversation.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “It was close.”

You’re halfway out the door, already planning what stress snack you’re going to inhale before opening a shared Google Doc with 45 other correspondents when it happens.

“See you Thursday, then. Three o’clock.”

You freeze. Actually, scratch that. You malfunction.

Your body halts so fast you nearly swing into the doorframe. You swivel on your heel, well aware of how the universe personally loves to torment you.

Jeon Jungkook is smiling, cheek to cheek.

He’s leaned back in his own chair now, one leg crossed over the other like he’s settling into a fireside chat, phone lifted lazily in the air, Gmail open and illuminating.

You can only assume his own boss forwarded the press pool email to him. God isn’t exactly subtle when he wants you to suffer.

“They letting just anybody in now?” You muster up the insult.

He shakes his head. “Didn’t even have to ask. Must be fate.”

No part of you falters. You stare at him. “Or a curse. It’s also not even confirmed yet, dimwit.”

“I don’t make the rules,” He raises his hands in mock defeat, and somehow you know that’s a lie. You’re almost certain he knew this was coming and bribed someone.

Jenna pats you on the back as she walks past. “Think of it as a growth opportunity.”

You glance at her like she just told you to do trust falls into oncoming traffic. “I don’t want a growth opportunity. I want a restraining order.”

Jungkook hums solemnly. “You’ll miss me.”

“Like a migraine,” You quip.

You step into the hallway and exhale, followed by a brief intermission where you regret every life decision that led you here.

A few distant feet away, Jungkook calls out all bright and cheerful, like this is a fun little reunion instead of your personal hell, “Should I bring the talking points or are we winging it like last time?”

Not a fiber in your body stops. You just keep walking, steps fast, fury simmering beneath the surface like a pot that’s about to boil over.

Of course you’ll be stuck sharing air and quotes and probably a goddamn printer with him.

Like you said, press pools… bane of your entire existence.

masterlist + ask

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[elicit-digital]

GoHighLevel Pricing & Automation: What You Need to Know in 2025

In the fast-paced digital marketing world of 2025, automation and CRM integration are not just helpful—they’re essential. Whether you're a startup, an agency, or a consultant, platforms like GoHighLevel (also known as GHL) are transforming the way we work. From HighLevel’s marketing automation tools to GoHighLevel CRM experts, there's a lot to explore.

If you're wondering about GoHighLevel pricing, automation tools, and how it can power up your sales and marketing strategies, this guide will walk you through everything you need to know.

What is GoHighLevel?

GoHighLevel is an all-in-one CRM and marketing automation platform designed for agencies, consultants, and small businesses. It combines features like sales funnel builders, email/SMS marketing, workflow automation, booking systems, and more into one user-friendly dashboard.

Think of it as a powerful toolbox packed with GoHighLevel tools that replace several standalone software solutions—while offering white-label services that allow agencies to brand it as their own.

GoHighLevel Pricing in 2025: Plans That Fit Every Business

Understanding GoHighLevel pricing is key to choosing the right plan. In 2025, the platform continues to offer flexible options:

Starter Plan – $97/month

Perfect for freelancers or small businesses:

1 Account

GoHighLevel CRM

Funnel and Website Builder

Booking tools

GHL workflow automation

Agency Unlimited Plan – $297/month

Ideal for growing agencies:

Unlimited sub-accounts

GoHighLevel automation tools

Full access to gohighlevel sales funnel builders

Branded desktop app

SaaS Mode Plan – $497/month

Great for scaling and reselling:

Everything in Agency Unlimited

GoHighLevel white label features

Full SaaS reselling tools

Priority Go High Level support

There are also annual billing options with discounts. Many GoHighLevel experts suggest going for the Agency plan if you're looking to scale faster and offer white-labeled services to your clients.

Why Marketing Automation Matters in 2025

Marketing automation is the key to saving time, improving conversion rates, and increasing efficiency. With GHL CRM integration and workflow automation, you can:

Nurture leads automatically

Trigger personalized emails and SMS

Create advanced sales funnels

Assign tasks to your team without manual work

With Go High Level automation, businesses can build smart systems that work 24/7, giving you more time to focus on strategy and customer relationships.

Powerful Automation Features in GoHighLevel

Let’s dive into some of the automation features that make Go High Level software a game-changer:

GHL Workflow Automation

Design custom workflows for lead nurturing, sales follow-up, appointment reminders, and more. It's visual, drag-and-drop, and easy to use.

Sales Automation

From email drips to SMS triggers, sales automation helps close deals without the constant back-and-forth.

GoHighLevel Funnel Builder

Use drag-and-drop functionality to create conversion-focused sales funnels and marketing funnels. Capture leads, upsell offers, and schedule appointments all in one place.

AI & Smart Triggers

2025 brings even smarter automation. With AI-based triggers and lead scoring, GoHighLevel automations are more intelligent than ever.

CRM and Funnels: The Heart of HighLevel’s Power

A major reason businesses turn to Go High Level is its powerful CRM and funnel capabilities. Let’s break them down:

Go High Level CRM

Manage leads, pipelines, tasks, and customer conversations in one place. Many gohighlevel CRM experts highlight its simplicity and effectiveness.

GoHighLevel Funnel Builder

Easily build pages for lead capture, upsells, or webinars. It's similar to tools like ClickFunnels but fully integrated with your Go High Level platform.

GoHighLevel Website Builder

Need a landing page or full site? No problem. The built-in website builder makes it simple to create branded, mobile-optimized websites quickly.

GoHighLevel Support & Community

A big plus is the growing community and resources available for users. If you're stuck, Go High Level support is responsive, and you can also connect with a GoHighLevel consultant or Go High Level experts to help you implement your systems.

Want to see how it works? Book a Go High Level demo to explore features before committing.

Why Agencies Love GoHighLevel

Agencies especially love GHL for these reasons:

White-label options to resell as their own CRM

Automate onboarding, follow-ups, and client management

Custom dashboards with agency branding

Affordable pricing compared to stacking tools like Calendly, Mailchimp, ClickFunnels, and HubSpot

With a single login, you manage multiple client accounts—making Go High Level company setup incredibly scalable.

Is GoHighLevel Right for You?

If you're looking for a:

Centralized CRM with automation

Powerful sales and marketing funnel system

Affordable and scalable pricing

White-labeled software solution

Platform backed by growing support and expert consultants

Then yes—GoHighLevel could be the perfect fit. Whether you're a GoHighLevel consultant, freelancer, or digital agency, there’s a plan for every stage of your business.

Conclusion: 

As automation, CRM, and funnel-building become more essential in 2025, GoHighLevel stands out as an all-in-one growth solution. From marketing automation and sales automation to CRM integration and white-label services, it’s everything a growing business or agency needs under one roof.

Looking to implement GoHighLevel for your agency or startup? At Elicit Digital, we specialize in setting up, customizing, and scaling GHL systems for maximum performance. Whether you need a custom GoHighLevel website, optimized GHL workflow automation, or expert-level funnel strategy—we’ve got you covered.

Ready to automate your growth? Contact Elicit Digital today and let our GoHighLevel experts show you what’s possible.

For more information:

Visit: https://www.elicit.digital/

Email: sales@elicit.digital

Call us: +91-9111555876

[gohighlevelexpertteam]

Unlocking Business Growth with a Go High Level Consultant: Why The Funnels Guys Are Your Best Choice

In today's digital world, every business — whether a startup or an established enterprise — needs a streamlined, automated system to manage leads, nurture relationships, and drive sales. But with so many tools and platforms available, figuring out where to start can feel overwhelming. That’s where a Go High Level consultant comes into play — and when you want results, you turn to the experts at The Funnels Guys.

What Is a Go High Level Consultant? Go High Level is an all-in-one CRM and marketing automation platform designed for businesses and agencies who want to centralize their operations. It handles everything: lead capture, SMS marketing, email campaigns, appointment scheduling, sales pipelines, and more.

However, while the platform is powerful, unlocking its full potential takes knowledge and experience. That’s exactly what a Go High Level consultant offers — professional expertise to tailor the system to your unique business goals, saving you time, money, and frustration.

Why Businesses Need a Go High Level Consultant Setting up Go High Level isn’t just about connecting a few apps and sending emails. It’s about creating an integrated ecosystem where every step of your customer journey is mapped, optimized, and automated. A Go High Level consultant understands how to:

Customize workflows to match your sales process.

Build landing pages and funnels that actually convert.

Set up automation that feels personal, not robotic.

Integrate your CRM with existing marketing strategies.

Maximize lead generation while minimizing manual labor.

Without the guidance of a consultant, you could be leaving leads — and revenue — on the table.

Meet The Funnels Guys: Your Go High Level Experts At The Funnels Guys, we specialize in helping businesses harness the true power of Go High Level. We’re not just another agency that sets up templates and walks away. We partner with you, providing a hands-on, customized approach that transforms how you operate online.

Here’s what sets The Funnels Guys apart:

Deep Go High Level Expertise Our team knows Go High Level inside and out. We've spent countless hours mastering the platform, building everything from simple pipelines to advanced multi-step automations. Whether you need a basic setup or a complex multi-channel marketing system, we have the know-how to deliver.

Strategy Before Setup We don’t believe in a one-size-fits-all solution. Before diving into setup, we work with you to understand your business, your audience, and your goals. Then we design a Go High Level system that’s strategic, not just functional.

Conversion-Focused Funnels As our name suggests, funnels are our specialty. We create sales funnels that are more than just pretty landing pages — they are designed to drive action, nurture relationships, and increase your ROI.

Complete Support and Training We don't leave you stranded once the system is live. The Funnels Guys offer ongoing support and training, so you and your team can use Go High Level with confidence. We empower you to manage and scale your system long after the initial setup.

Proven Results Our clients consistently see dramatic improvements in lead generation, customer engagement, and sales after working with us. Why? Because we treat every project as if it were our own business — with attention to detail, care, and a relentless focus on results.

The Funnels Guys’ Go High Level Consulting Services When you choose The Funnels Guys as your Go High Level consultant, here’s what you can expect:

Customized Go High Level Setup: Tailored CRM, pipeline, and automation configuration.

Sales Funnel Creation: High-converting landing pages, email sequences, and upsell systems.

Workflow Automation: SMS, email, voicemail drops, appointment scheduling — all synced to perfection.

Campaign Management: Help creating and optimizing marketing campaigns inside Go High Level.

Integrations and API Support: Smooth connections between Go High Level and your other business tools.

Training and Ongoing Consulting: Personalized sessions to make sure you’re maximizing your platform.

Why Now Is the Time to Work with a Go High Level Consultant Every day without an optimized system is a day you're losing potential customers. Automation is no longer a luxury — it’s essential for growth. Whether you're an agency, a service provider, or a local business owner, working with a Go High Level consultant like The Funnels Guys can dramatically simplify your operations and supercharge your results.

Instead of wrestling with tech headaches and half-baked solutions, you could have a team of experts at your side, turning your vision into a well-oiled marketing and sales machine.

Ready to Get Started? If you're serious about scaling your business, it’s time to partner with The Funnels Guys. As your trusted Go High Level consultant, we'll help you automate smarter, market stronger, and grow faster.

Contact The Funnels Guys today to schedule your free consultation — and see how powerful your business can become when you level up with the right team behind you.

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to having a younger s/o

Requested by @whrryuu : helloooo can u make ot13 reactions to a younger s/o with tooth rooting fluff plsplspls u r one of my fav authors and i loveee all ur works <33 thank yeww

A/N: Hiiiii angel!! Thank you SO much for the sweet words, I’m smiling so hard!!

Also, I wrote this while waiting for my call to the doctor's office, and the amount of time I giggled... in public 😭 I'm pretty sure the assistant there wanted to write my name to see the psychiatrist 💔 I really enjoyed writing this one!!

Seungcheol: He calls you baby so much, it’s comical atp. Wraps you in his big strong arms, shielding you from the entire world. He high-key spoils you: buys you snacks, jewelleries, designer bags, tucks your hair behind your ear, even ties your shoes sometimes. If anyone teases you for being younger, he’s like, “And? She’s mine.”

Jeonghan: tease. level. expert. He’s constantly poking fun at your age. “Aww, are you even old enough to be out this late?” “Are you even old enough to use your pretty mouth like this?” “Is my baby old enough?” But then he’s doting lol. Pulls you into his lap during movie nights or when he's feeling freaky, strokes your hair when you're sleepy, gives you forehead kisses and says, “You’re too cute. What do I do with you?”

Joshua: Such a gentleman it’s unreal. Always checking on you, opening doors, holding your hand when crossing the street. Calls you sweetheart or baby with the softest smile. “Did you eat? Want me to walk you home?” He loves listening to you talk about little things like your classes or shows, eyes full of admiration, which makes him even more eager to protect you from the outside cruel world.

Jun: Younger? He’s taking that as a challenge to be the ultimate younger boyfriend. I mean he's old but, in your relationship, he's the kid. But don't forget, he's Jun: he’s playful and flirty but super doting whenever he feels like it. “You’re so smol, it’s adorable,” he coos, pinching your cheeks. He buys you keychains, kisses your lips when you pout, and tucks your hand into his pocket when it’s cold.

Hoshi: Calls you my baby with a proud grin. Carries candies in his bag just for you. Sends you selfies like “miss you~~” even if he saw you ½ an hour ago. He shows off a bit in front of the other members. “Look at my cutie! Isn’t she the cutest??” Will not shut up about you. Ever.

Wonwoo: His affection actually runs quite deep. Always watches you with fond eyes when you ramble about your day animatedly. Reads books with you on his chest, lets you doodle on his arm with pen. Will buy you random gifts throughout the week. He doesn't really see you as a kid but definitely thinks it's cute that you're younger. His favorite thing is seeing you in oversized hoodies aka his hoodies.

Woozi: Pretends he’s unaffected and acts superrrrrr nonchalant but yk Jihoon lol. He’s so shy about PDA, but his ears turn pink when you kiss his cheek or nose or forehead or lips or... anywhere actually. But he sneaks cuddles when no one’s looking. Writes you little melodies on his guitar, gives you USBs like, “I made this… it’s for you.” Deadly soft. D.E.A.D.L.Y. S.O.F.T. I'm telling you, the nonchalance bullshit doesn't go too far with him around you.

Dokyeom: Literal sunshine™ boyfriend. He thinks your every reaction is the most adorable thing ever. “Look at you getting shy! You’re so cute I could cry!” Will deadpan compare you to toddlers and say you are cuter... infront of the kid's parents 💀 Makes silly faces to make you laugh [he loves making you laugh], sends voice notes of him singing songs before bed. Never stops telling you how much he loves you.

Mingyu: Always holds your bag, opens your drink, wraps his arms around you in public like a warm wall. “You good, baby?” Loves it when you act bratty—it makes him grin like crazy and turns him on. Carries you over puddles, cooks for you everyday, and looks like a proud boyfriend when you compliment his food. He'll definitely marry you one day, that's how smittenly in love he is with you.

Minghao: So gentle, holds your face when he kisses you. Buys you art supplies and writes little notes in the margins of your sketchbook. If you’re overwhelmed, he’s like, “Come here,” and pulls you into his arms in total silence. You’re his soft spot, no matter how calm he seems. He really loves that he can be your protective figure, not that he thinks you're any less capable to protect or defend yourself but he loves it that in general sense, he's the one. Note: he coos you all the time

Seungkwan: Panics over every little thing because you're his baby [in a romantic sense]. “Are you cold? Are you hungry? Do you need water?” Cups a hand on your cheeks , “You’re too cute, I can’t take it.” and have cuteness aggression every five minutes. Will 100% hide his face when you kiss his nose. Loves showing you off—“This is my girlfriend, the cutest woman in the whole world!” Yeah, he still calls you a woman, because you are!

Vernon: Our Vernon can be so so so so so so soft. Tugs you into his hoodie with him, lets you nap on his chest. Blushes when you hold his hand first, but won’t let go the whole day. He thinks you being younger is the cutest thing ever. Just wants to sit next to you forever, playing with your fingers. If he could, he'd keep you inside his pocket.

Dino: He tries so hard to be ‘the man’ but ends up being an adorable mess because of you. “I’m older, I’ll take care of you,” then trips over nothing after you smile at him. You make him flustered constantly 24/7, but he’s serious when it counts—“You can count on me, always.” and you can. Will dance with you in the kitchen because he's romantic.

[hosenseo1]

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[sayruq]

As Gaza spirals toward full-scale famine, displaced civilians and health workers told CNN they go hungry so their children can eat what little is available. If Palestinians find water, it is likely undrinkable. When relief trucks trickle into the strip, people clamber over each other to grab aid. Children living on the streets, after being forced from their homes by Israel’s bombardment, cry and fight over stale bread. Others reportedly walk for hours in the cold searching for food, risking exposure to Israeli strikes. Even before the war, two out of three people in Gaza relied on food support, Arif Husain, the chief economist at the World Food Programme (WFP), told CNN. Palestinians have lived through 17 years of partial blockade imposed by Israel and Egypt. Israel’s bombardment and siege since October 7 has drastically diminished vital supplies in Gaza, leaving the entire population of some 2.2 million exposed to high levels of acute food insecurity or worse, according to the Integrated Food Security and Nutrition Phase Classification (IPC), which assesses global food insecurity and malnutrition. Martin Griffiths, the UN’s emergency relief chief, told CNN the “great majority” of 400,000 Gazans characterized by UN agencies as at risk of starving “are actually in famine.” UN human rights experts have warned “Israel is destroying Gaza’s food system and using food as a weapon against the Palestinian people.”