#What is CPA course all about?

[cpaaccountingcoursetips]

Understanding the Certified Public Accountant (CPA) Course: A Complete Guide

The Certified Public Accountant (CPA) course is a prestigious professional certification designed for individuals aspiring to become licensed accountants in the United States. Renowned for its rigor and comprehensiveness, the CPA course prepares candidates to excel in various critical areas such as accounting, auditing, taxation, and business law.

Whether you are considering CPA coaching in Chandigarh or elsewhere, it is essential to understand the course structure, eligibility, and requirements to successfully navigate the path toward certification.

Education Requirements for the CPA Course

To begin your journey toward CPA certification, a foundational step is meeting the education eligibility criteria. Most states require candidates to hold at least a bachelor’s degree from an accredited college or university. This degree must include a specified number of credit hours in accounting and related business subjects.

While the total required credit hours vary by state, many require around 150 credit hours to qualify for the CPA exam. These coursework requirements ensure that candidates possess a solid grounding in essential accounting principles and business knowledge before moving forward.

The CPA Exam: Four Critical Sections

The Uniform CPA Examination is a pivotal part of the certification process, designed to comprehensively test candidates’ proficiency across four distinct sections:

Auditing and Attestation (AUD): This section evaluates knowledge of auditing standards, procedures, and attestation engagements. Candidates must understand how to prepare, compile, and review financial statements according to professional standards.

Business Environment and Concepts (BEC): BEC focuses on business-related concepts, including economics, financial management, information technology, and business law. This section tests candidates on their understanding of the broader business environment affecting accounting practices.

Financial Accounting and Reporting (FAR): FAR covers financial accounting principles and the preparation of financial statements for various entities. Candidates are tested on topics such as accounting standards and financial reporting frameworks.

Regulation (REG): REG assesses candidates on federal taxation, business law, ethics, and professional responsibilities. It ensures candidates understand regulatory frameworks governing the accounting profession.

Candidates are required to pass all four sections within a state-specific timeframe, highlighting the importance of thorough preparation and time management.

Work Experience: Gaining Practical Accounting Skills

In addition to education and examination requirements, relevant work experience is crucial for CPA certification. Most states mandate candidates to accumulate one to two years of professional accounting experience under the supervision of a licensed CPA.

This hands-on experience helps candidates apply theoretical knowledge in real-world settings, building critical skills that enhance their competence and readiness for professional practice.

Ethics Exam: Upholding Professional Integrity

Many states require candidates to pass an ethics exam as part of the CPA certification process. This exam covers ethical standards and professional conduct expected of CPAs, emphasizing the importance of integrity, objectivity, and responsibility in accounting practice.

The ethics requirement reinforces the commitment of CPAs to uphold public trust and maintain the profession’s reputation.

Continuing Education: Lifelong Learning for CPAs

Becoming a CPA is not the final step; maintaining the license involves ongoing continuing professional education (CPE). CPAs must regularly update their knowledge of evolving accounting standards, regulations, and best practices to remain competent and effective in their roles.

CPE requirements vary by state but generally include completing a specified number of education hours every licensing period to ensure continuous professional development.

State-Specific Requirements: Importance of Local Guidelines

While the core components of the CPA course are consistent, state-specific variations exist regarding eligibility, exam administration, experience, and fees. Each state’s Board of Accountancy establishes its own rules, so candidates must consult their local board to understand precise requirements.

For those seeking CPA coaching in Chandigarh or other locations, it’s important to align preparation with the regulations of the state where certification is pursued.

Conclusion

The CPA course offers a robust pathway for aspiring accountants to develop expert knowledge and gain licensure to practice professionally. Understanding the education prerequisites, exam structure, work experience, ethics, and continuing education requirements is key to successfully earning and maintaining the CPA designation.

By choosing the right coaching, committing to disciplined study, and adhering to state-specific guidelines, candidates can confidently achieve their CPA goals and open doors to rewarding careers in accounting and finance.

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 12

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You and Michael have an honest conversation about your insecurities and expectations. The sexual tension comes to a head.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: this chapter was not as fleshed out in my outline as the others lol sorry it took so long! Thank you for all the likes, comments and reblogs💜💜

note to self: need to up the word count? add smut lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: age gap, mild angst, foul language, mild jealous!Robby, fluff, SMUT (MINORS DNI), afab!reader, fingering, p in v, light praise kink, pet names (sweetheart, honey, baby)

not beta read

In the dates that followed, a contentment settled. You felt like you would be able to forgive him for the harsh words he had hurled at you, and build the relationship based on mutual trust in time. You took it slow, usually going to restaurants or the museum, and he only ever kissed you goodnight, though he always lingered just enough to steal another.

Days bled into weeks, dates into quiet nights in. The holidays came and went, though you spent them separately. Michael worked several holiday shifts, while you spent time with friends and family. “Next year, we’ll spend them together.” and that was good enough.

Marsi kept pressing to meet him, which Erin would echo, and it became increasingly difficult to fend them off. You were enjoying your time with Michael, and did not want to rush anything. The feelings twisting around in your chest had other plans, however, tangling deeper with every day you spent together.

Michael paid for your utilities that month, as “a late holiday gift” and then paid for the CPA review course as “a graduation gift”. He then splurged and took you out to the fanciest restaurant in Pittsburgh, to celebrate.

It made you feel like you were taking advantage of him, but part of you also felt massive relief that those bills weren’t on your shoulders. It also stirred something in your stomach at being spoiled, something you had not quite experienced before.

“I appreciate it a lot, Mike, just…” You sighed, flipping the chicken in the pan.

He watched you expectantly, setting his wine glass onto the counter.

“That’s not why I’m here.”

He smiled gently, “I know that, trust me. I paid off my loans some years ago, so I understand how stressful it can be. If I can help, I want to.”

“Thank you.” You said softly, “Feels like something a boyfriend might do…”

“Aren’t I?”

You looked over at him in surprise, blinking a few times. “I knew we were exclusive, I just didn’t realize we had given it a name yet.”

He cupped her cheek, “Then, would you like to make this official and be my girlfriend?”

Your cheeks heated, and you grinned at him, looking at him through you eyelashes. This still felt slow, easy, but the title made you feel more secure. It felt like a breath of relief.

“I’d like that a lot, yeah.”

“Label or not, it’s you and me?”

“You and me.” You agreed. “But I like the label.”

He smiled, “Me too.”

He leaned down to capture your lips and you savored the kiss, tasting the wine on his tongue. He ran a thumb over your cheek before pulling away.

It was easy enough to guess how Marsi had tricked you into meeting Michael. An offhanded comment about going to a bar with Michael, and a coy, “have fun!”, and then there they were in the bar waiting for you.

You paused at the door, Michael nearly walking into the back of you.

His hand found your arm, “You alright?”

“Well fuck me.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to say this in advance: I’m so sorry.”

“What?”

Erin approached first, “So you must be Michael.”

Michael’s eyes looked over to Erin, taking in her smirk and carefree expression, though her eyes were subtly assessing him. Marsi, next to her, was being less subtle.

“Michael, these are my friends, Erin and Marsi.” You introduced, looking up at Michael with an apologetic smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Erin grinned back at you.

Michael offered a careful smile, “Nice to meet you.”

Marsi hummed, while Erin clapped her hands together.

“So glad you’re here! Drink?” Erin grabbed your hand and pulled you to the bar.

Michael followed dutifully.

“What the hell, Erin?” You hissed lowly. “I mean, seriously?”

Erin smiled innocently, blinking her eyes at her, “What? We like this bar too, you know.”

You groaned, “You completely blindsided me. He deserved a warning.”

Marsi scoffed, “He’ll be just fine.”

You let out a long breath of air, and ordered a drink. Michael slid in beside you, ordering a beer.

You leaned in to Michael to whisper, “This was not my idea, I’m sorry.”

He smiled easily, “Don’t fret. I’m glad I’m able to meet some of your friends.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“Not at all, I’m your boyfriend. I expected to meet them soon, anyways. We can plan something with some of my…friends, if that makes you feel better.” He offered.

Butterflies filled your stomach, nerves rattling around your bloodstream, but you nodded. “Yeah, yes, please.”

He smiled.

—

Erin and Marsi were pleasant — though Marsi was not-so-subtly grilling him. Each question made you hide behind your hand, mouthing “I’m sorry” to him. He brushed it off and grabbed your hand.

With his hand on your lower back, he began to notice the eyes. It made him bristle, removing his hands from your skin. You noticed his shift in mood easily, raising a simple eyebrow to ask what your were likely thinking. He only offered a small smile to answer that he was fine.

He was not fine. It felt like the bubble around them had finally burst — letting in all the outside judgements that had been lingering the entire time. He tried not to care, but it made him self conscious. You were very clearly younger than him, even in the low lighting of the bar, and he could feel other men circling like sharks.

When you excused yourself to get another drink at the bar, Erin and Marsi departed to dance, and heat rose to his cheeks. He felt out of his depth, sipping his beer at the table they had secured, alone and yet, completely occupied by his racing mind.

Could he truly do this to you? Tie you to him and ruin your youth? He always tried to be a gentleman, but wasn’t the noble thing to do to let you go? His stomach churned, mind and heart battling it out.

He wanted you, in every way a man could want a woman, for as long as you would have him. The warm, fuzzy feeling swaying around his chest made a hard fight against the guilty, self deprecating thoughts.

They all screeched to a halt when a man approached you at the bar, hand on you back to whisper something to you. He watched, frozen to his chair, as you scrunched your nose at him, shifting out of his hold.

How could he blame the man? You were gorgeous. Stunning. Beautiful in mind and body. Smart, so incredibly smart, with a laugh that eased all the haunting feelings in his chest.

Your eyes meeting his across the bar and he was out of his seat, making his way over to you. Your eyes softened when he approached, the man’s back still facing him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Michael said, getting his attention.

The man only glanced sideways at Michael, “Get lost, old man. Trying to have a conversation here.”

“That’s my boyfriend, asshole.” You snapped before Michael could even open his mouth again.

Michael smirked, looking back at the man. His voice lowered closer to something dangerous, “She likes her space, so disrespectfully, you get lost.”

The man raised a questioning eyebrow at you, disbelief flashing across his features, before he must’ve decided it wasn’t worth it. Michael slid closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Was that jealousy?” You asked with a playful eyebrow raise, sipping your drink. “Can’t say I hated it — it was kinda hot — but, still. I could’ve handled that. I’ve chosen you. Random men aren’t going to be able to change that.”

“Kinda hot?” He raised a teasing eyebrow.

You chuckled, “Of course that's what you got out of what I said.”

“No, no, I heard you. Just wanna revisit that bit.”

You rolled your eyes playfully.

He pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. “Just want everyone here to know you’re mine. Even if they judge us.”

You flustered, and your mouth opened and closed several times. He noted how those words made you fluster, and tucked it away for another day.

“I want you, Mike. I know people are gonna look at us, and yeah, I don’t love that. But I can’t let that stop me from being happy, you know? You make me happy.”

He blinked, searching your eyes, “They’re never going to stop.”

“You said you wanted everyone to know I was yours.” You swallowed, eyes flicking between his. “I want everyone to know you’re mine, too.”

He smiled, kissing your lips in more than just a fleeting meeting of mouths. It was passionate, and made the blood rush down.

“So we might as well get used to it, or ignore it.” You breathed against his lips. “I want to be here, with you. No one else.”

“You and me against the world, then?”

“You and me.” You confirmed.

—

Over dinner one night, you were twisting the pasta on your fork, your focus was clearly elsewhere.

“You okay?”

You looked back up at him and smiled, “I forgive you. Thank you for giving me the time to.”

He blinked, swallowing his food. He reached across the table and grabbed your hand.

“Thank you.”

Sometime after dinner on the quiet night in, you found your way to Michael’s lap, exploring further than you had gone together. You straddled him, hands on each side of his face, kissing him deeply while his hands explored the skin around your waist. When your lips parted, Michael’s pupils had blown wide, black devouring the brown of his iris. He was taking deep breaths, watching you intently.

You moved your lips to kiss down his neck and his hips jerked up just enough to elicit a whine from your mouth.

Your eyes found each other again, testing, teasing, tentative. Your fingers fiddled with the gold chain near the back of his neck, the other going to his chest where his shirt separated you.

“We can call it here—”

“Do you want to?” You asked, eyes trying to read his expression.

“No.” It sounded mildly strangled. “But we can, if you’re not comfortable. I want to do this right.”

“Michael, I want you. This feels right.”

His eyes darkened, hands tightening around your hips. His lips were back on yours, greedy, hungry, and your tongue darted into his mouth. You swallowed his moan, hips moving in search of friction.

Leaning forward slightly, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he stood up. You squealed, wrapping your legs around his hips to hold onto him. He had his hands on the back of your thighs, keeping you from falling, as he made the journey to his room.

“Michael—!” was more surprise than protest.

He grinned against your mouth, moving into his bedroom. You would have taken the room in, if it weren’t for Michael distracting you completely. He leaned down to plop you onto the bed, and you instinctively reached back up for him.

Michael was looking down at you with a smile that reached his eyes, soft and serene. He kissed you lightly, and you scooted back on the bed, pulling him with you. He settled between your legs, breath hot against your neck, kissing down the column of your throat and making you whine again.

Your hips moved up to gain some friction, making him suck on the skin at the base of your throat at the juncture of your collarbone. You gripped the hair at the back of his neck, trying to keep hold of your senses.

Michael moved to sit back on his haunches, removing his shirt and unbuttoning his jeans. A rush of excitement flooded your chest, and you sat up enough to remove your blouse. With your bra, Michael pulled off your pants until they each were only left in your underwear.

When he got back down to kiss you, the heat of him between your legs made your head grow hazy, consumed with him him him. The smell of vanilla and sandalwood filling your nose, the taste of him on your tongue and his large, warm hands exploring your body.

His hand gripped your thigh and squeezed your flesh, and with his tongue back in your mouth, the rest of the world fell away.

Michael kissed over your shoulder, one hand slipping between you until it met your panties.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.” You choked out, his fingers slipping underneath the fabric to meet the wet heat.

He gathered a bit of your slick before rubbing soft circles on your clit, making your jolt, a moan escaping. He kissed back up your throat and across your jaw, beard tickling your skin. His fingers moved in a steady motion and heat pooled low.

“Want to feel you.” You mustered, grabbing at his biceps, thoughts going feral at the feel of them flexing beneath your hold.

“I’m in no rush tonight, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

When one of his fingers slipped inside, you lost the meaning of patience, eyes screwed tight. He curled it expertly upwards, rubbing against that delicious spot inside you, making you mewl. His thumb kept its pace on your clit.

“Michael.” You ground out, trying to remember to breathe. “That feels so good.”

He hummed against your throat, kissing your skin. He added another finger, and heat built up, licking up your abdomen. You felt that coil tighten, like a rubber band being pulled taut.

“Please.” You begged, panting slightly, one hand still on his bicep, while the other gripped tightly to his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, come on.” His lips met yours.

You moaned when he added a little pressure to his thumb, that burning ecstasy just within reach. Trying to breathe, it was that all consuming feeling of him everywhere that kept you tethered. Your eyes met, and your orgasm came swiftly, the rubber band snapping. You gripped him tightly, squeezing your hands on his shoulders as several lewd moans left your mouth.

“So good, sweetheart.” He kissed your cheek, not letting up.

It quickly became over sensitive, and you reached down to grab his wrist to stop him.

“Fuck.” You let out with a smile, followed by a whine when he removed his fingers.

His fingers glistened and he held your gaze as he stuck them into his mouth, sucking on them. You felt your pupils dilate, a pulse starting again between your thighs as the desire for him heightened again. You had such an urge to get your mouth on him.

“Taste so good, sweetheart — can’t wait to get my mouth on you.”

Your hum was dangerously close to a whine, “Need you now. Please.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

“Michael. Do you want me to beg for it?” You asked, hands on either side of his face, fingers on the back of his head in his hair.

A sly smirk grew on his lips, “It could be arranged.”

You groaned, throwing your head back on the pillow, making him chuckle lightly.

“Maybe another time, then.” He said, kissing up your torso, stopping to pay attention to your nipples.

He took a peaked nipple into his mouth and your fingers found his hair, a whimper escaping. His tongue rolled over the bud, before sucking hard and moving to give the other his attention. His hand moved to the one he had just left, rolling it between his fingers. It sent sparks straight to your core, walls clenching around nothing. A few breathless moans left your mouth, lips parted as your eyes closed, relishing in his attentions.

Need pulsed through your system, throbbing with want and driving you mad. Red tinted lust clouded your mind, hot and heavy, driven by his skilled fingers and hot mouth.

“I need your cock, Mike…fuck—please.”

He groaned against you, adjusting his hips and you eyes fluttered at the weight of him. His eyes met yours and you could see he was torn between worshipping you and taking his time to unravel you again slowly, and fully just submitting to the desire.

It seemed to be a conundrum you were both stuck between: wanting to savor the moment and throwing patience out the window. Though you had abandoned patience as soon as he got his hands on you, but you also knew you did not want to rush something you had been thinking about for ages.

Making the decision, you moved one hand to the band of his boxers, slipping underneath and a gasp stuck in your throat when you wrapped your hand around his length. He stilled and savored your hand on him, his eyes closing.

You pumped a few times, and Michael shifted to pull his boxers completely off, revealing his hardened length to you. Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head at the sight of it — big enough to elicit excitement and not fear, girthy without being too much, a nest of brown curls at the base. Your thoughts spiraled, pussy clenching again around nothing.

Reaching for the nightstand, Michael pulled out a condom, and put it on quickly, without fanfare. Once it was rolled to the base of him, he slotted himself between your spread legs, kissing your jaw and cheeks before pecking a few to your lips.

You gripped his shoulders when he ran the tip through your folds, stopping to add a bit of pressure to your clit. He ran the bottom of his cock over your clit until tears gathered at the corner of your eyes — half from overstimulation, half desperation.

He lined himself up with your entrance, pushing in the blunt head of his cock in slowly. You sucked in a shallow breath, tightening your grip on him. A groan echoed low in his throat, eyes closed, forehead resting on yours as he drove in deeper. He let out a long breath, grabbed one of your thighs and pulled it up to his hip. He then steadied himself with both forearms at either side of her head, hips fully meeting yours.

The kiss he captured was deeply passionate, and you wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to you. You reveled in his weight on you, and the stretch of him between your legs. Devine and adding to the aching heat in your core. You wrapped your legs fully around him, criss-crossing your feet at the small of his back, which gained a tiny moan from Michael.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so good, sweetheart.” He said, burying his face in your neck, still holding still.

Your back arched slightly at the praise, clenching around him, a curse slipping past your lips. “Oh my—Mike.”

“Don’t—” he choked, “—fuck, you keep doing that and I’m not going to last.”

“Can’t help it—feels so good.” You whispered, trying to keep your from clenching again at the sound of his husky undertones.

“I know, honey, I know.”

He took a long moment without moving, instead looking into your eyes with an intimacy that spread warmth down your spine and made your heart race.

When he started moving, it was slow, deliberate, each thrust a vow, a phrase they had not yet been said. Moving out just enough before moving back in at a languid pace, the long drag of his hips filled your lower belly with heat. It felt like words had been stolen from your lips, staring wide-eyed up at him and treasuring the way his eyes held steady, filled with equal parts adoration and desire.

Reaching between them again, his thumb met your clit and he rubbed a slow circle. Searing heat flooded your bloodstream, and you throbbed around him. You panted out soft breaths of air, swallowing thickly before leaning up to kiss his lips.

The rhythm grew steady, and each drag of his hips felt more lovely than the last. Filling so full of him, all of your senses clouded with his smell, his taste, his touch, and it made everything more delicious, more divine, until he was every thought in your head.

The coil started tightening again, and you moaned. You thought you might never have your fill of him. With each snap of his hips, you then knew with certainty that you would never get enough. He brushed the spongy spot inside you that had you tensing, curling your toes, sinful noises rolling off your tongue without permission.

The familiar euphoria started expanding low in your belly, your eyes hooded with pleasure that was nearly overwhelming. The perfect feeling of him, being so stuffed full — there were no words for it.

"You're mine. Say it." He whispered huskily, eyes on yours.

The words traveled right to your core. "Yours, Michael. All yours."

The kiss he met your lips with was greedy, like he was devouring the words, roughly taking in your bottom lip. Hands in his hair, you gave it all to him.

Michael’s face scrunched up as pleasure must have been spreading through his system, though his kisses were still slow and controlled.

Feeling the edge of your release, you felt like you never wanted it to end, even at the cusp of your second orgasm. You wanted to savor it. Though with each thrust in and out, you fell into a desperation to feel the crashing wave of heat, clinging to him.

It felt overly indulgent to approach your second climax of the night, and you knew he was going to spoil you in every way he could.

“Mike—ohmygod—I’m—” you cried out, gripping his shoulders like your life depended on it.

“That’s it—I can feel that you’re close, sweetheart. I wanna feel it, give it to me, come on.” He encouraged, tone breathy in your ear.

He moved the hand from between them to intertwine their fingers beside your head, and replaced it with his other hand without missing a beat, not leaving you wanting for long. He added pressure with the pad of his thumb, and your thoughts stalled out. Just burning pleasure in your core, echoing outwards.

“Can feel you getting tight—fuck, sweetheart—come on my cock for me, come on.”

A high pitched whine left your lips, and everything tightened — your grip, your legs around his waist, your pussy clenching making him gasp and groan, your whole body tensing.

His low hiss of your name threw you over the edge, sending your hurtling into the white-hot heat that was all-consuming. The coil snapped and fire exploded through your system, all your resolve shattering. Your eyes screwed shut, pussy pulsing around him while he fucked you through it.

A mix of his name and incoherent moans came from your lips, scorching heat overcoming every nerve. It kept rolling as his hips kept moving and you sucked in a deep breath, as he whispered soft praises in your ear. You panted, trying to catch your breath — you felt like you were floating above your body, pleasure stinging every nerve until it slowly started ebbing away.

“Mike—oh!” Your back arched again, feeling his skin flush against your, as his cock continued to drive into you. “You feel so good, baby.”

“Yeah? Like being full of me?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, each word matching with each thrust into your wet heat.

His new pace was faster, making stars dance behind your eyes, his grunts and groans making you unconsciously pulse around him. He moved his hand from between your legs to beside you, moving up just enough to stare down at you. Pleasure started contorting his face, your name on his tongue.

His forehead met yours, panting, each snap of his hips growing sloppy.

“Mmm love being so full of you, Mike. You feel so good.”

Michael kissed you, unfocused and messy, moaning into your mouth as his orgasm overcame him. His hips stuttered until they stopped, and the feeling pulled a final low moan from your lips.

He heaved a few breaths, your chest rising and falling in time with his. He met your eyes and smiled.

When he pulled out, it left you feeling empty, but you slipped to his side after he discarded the condom. He wrapped an arm around you, kissing your forehead. You traced tiny shapes along his chest, feeling so full of an emotion you did not yet want to name, but it thrummed just beneath the surface.

“I’m falling in love with you.” He said quietly, like it was a secret.

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “I’ve been falling for you, too.”

Michael’s face lit up and he leaned down to kiss you tenderly.

“You and me?”

“You and me.”

[ Next ]

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Companionship taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty @elli3williams @yournerdmodziata @i-know-i-can @dickheadturner @dcgoddess @pittobsessed @glamorizethechaos @blueb33ry-cat @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @burningpenguinwitch @evienorville @equallyshaw @heyysolsister @justrandomthougt @babygirlagenda @lauracantsleep @rogersbarnesxx

Dr. Robby taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @happyfox43 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @girl-obsessed-with-things @laurenkate79 @woodxtock @rosie-posie08

(50 tags have been reached with the combo of all three taglists, so unfortunately some of Dr. Robby & all of The Pitt taglist for this series will be added in a reblog right after this is posted - I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience!)

Gimme that man

Didn’t realize how expensive it was to be a CPA after graduating with your masters lol, Robby you’re a real one

[togrowoldinv]

Secret Santa

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When Natasha gets your name for Secret Santa, she tries to think of the perfect gift for you

Note: I’m back! Well, technically I never left but I’ve been up to my ears in studying for the cpa exam. I took what was hopefully my last exam today, and let Natasha come back into my brain lol. Enjoy this holiday fluff!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

“Okay, on to the topic of the Christmas party. What if do Secret Santa names this year?” Tony suggests.

“What does that entail?” Steve asks what everyone else is thinking.

“Well, we’d all write down a few things we like. It gives the person who gets your name an idea of what you want,” Tony explains.

“I like it,” Steve agrees. “What does everyone think?”

A chorus of sures and okays follow.

“Y/n, can you take care of it?” Steve asks.

You agree easily. You’ve always loved the holidays so the idea of helping the Avengers have a good one is exciting. Especially since it’s your first year with the team.

You get everyone’s names on notecards and spend the rest of the day getting everyone to fill them out with gift ideas. Wanda helps you collect them from the team before the next team meeting the next morning.

“Okay, everyone I have all of the names here. Draw one and whatever you get is what you have. No switching allowed,” you tell the team, mainly Tony.

You eyeball him as you say it and he at least pretends to look offended before he grins.

When you get to Natasha, you smile at her shyly.

“What if I get my own name?” She asks with a smirk.

She reaches into the bowl of names before you can answer. Her expression is unreadable as she looks at the card.

“Good?” You ask.

“It’s good,” Natasha replies.

You move on and keep going until everyone’s been picked. You got Wanda, which should be super easy.

On the other hand, Natasha got you. She thinks about it for a few days before deciding that she doesn’t want to get you anything on your list. She decides to go to your best friend on the team for advice.

“You got a second?” Natasha asks, knocking on Wanda’s open doorframe.

“Oh,” the girl is caught off guard. She doesn’t spend much time talking to Nat aside from about missions. “Sure.”

Natasha walks in and closes the door behind her. She sits down at Wanda’s desk across from where the girl sits on her bed.

“Is everything okay?” Wanda asks.

Natasha doesn’t immediately assure her it is and she gets worried. “So, I got y/n for secret santa.”

Wanda’s tenseness goes away and she can’t help a little smirk forming as Nat is talking.

“And I know she has things on this list,” she says. “But I don’t think a single one of these things is good enough for her. I don’t know what I should get for her, but she deserves the best gift.”

“Natasha,” Wanda interjects. “You’re taking this way too seriously.”

“Oh,” Nat expresses. “She- well she loves Christmas, right? I saw how excited she’s been about the tree and then the secret Santa and the movies. All of it. I want it to be special for her.”

“That’s really sweet,” Wanda says. “You like her, huh.”

“Can you help me?” Natasha keeps the focus on the conversation at hand. She does like you though.

“Of course. Anything for y/n.”

“Thank you,” Natasha says, feeling the relief set in.

The two brainstorm ideas for a couple of hours. When Wanda shows late for your usual nightly dinner, she wears a grin.

“What?” You ask her. “Fun with Vision?”

Wanda chuckles and you share a laugh with her.

“Who’d you get for Secret Santa?” You ask her.

“I can’t tell you,” she says.

“Sure you can.”

“Who’d you get?” She counters.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Sure you can,” she mocks you.

The rest of the days leading up to Christmas go by fast. Unfortunately everyone had to go on a mission on Christmas Eve, so you’re all exhausted on Christmas Day morning.

Tony postponed the gift exchange until later in the day, and everyone is much more rested by then.

Even with the hustle and bustle, you notice Natasha hasn’t made it to the get together yet.

“Hey Clint, where’s Nat?” You ask the archer. He was working closely with her on the mission.

“I think she just needed to take some time alone.”

“Oh, okay.”

You go about the party for a few more minutes before deciding to go check on Natasha.

You go to her room and knock on the door. She takes a minute to answer, but finally the door opens to reveal a distressed Natasha.

Her hair is messy and she’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. You haven’t seen her this way before.

“Hey,” you say. “We missed you down there.”

“Sorry,” she says. “Uh, come in.”

Her room is clean and exactly like you expected it. There are a few photos of Natasha and Clint’s family on a dresser, but that’s really the extent of the decor.

“Are you okay?” You ask her.

“Yeah, just a bad mission.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Nat says. “It’s a me problem.”

“Hey, we’re teammates. And- we’re friends. It’s an us problem.”

Natasha can’t help but smile a little at that. You make her feel better by just being here.

“I don’t think I’m in the party mood. The guys aren’t so sensitive to my feelings.”

“Hey, that’s alright. I’ll just take your gift if you want me to. I’ll make sure it gets to the right person,” you explain.

“Oh, actually I had you. And I didn’t get a gift off of your list.”

Your eyes go wide. You didn’t even consider that Nat would get you. Thinking back to your list, you hope she didn’t find anything you wrote down as lame.

“Not because they were bad ideas. It’s just- I wanted to do something more meaningful,” she reads your mind.

Natasha crosses the room and grabs a box out of her closet. It’s wrapped nicely.

“You wrapped that?” You ask.

“You seem surprised,” Nat jokes. “I have skills.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” you say before blushing a bit. She smirks.

She hands you the box and you sit down on the edge of her bed together to open it. Nat watches you shyly as you open the gift.

“Natasha,” you whisper as you reveal the gift.

It’s a beautiful locket necklace.

“Open it,” she says.

On the inside of the locket, there’s a photo of your family. Your favorite photo to be exact.

“How did you-“

“Wanda helped,” Nat says. “I know you’ve been missing home since you joined the Avengers. I thought you’d want to have a piece of them with you on missions.”

“Natasha, that’s- well that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you say, fighting back tears.

“You like it then?”

“I love it. Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Will you put it on me?”

Nat nods and takes the necklace from your hands. She unclasps it and stands behind you to put it around your neck. Her hands are gentle as she clasps the necklace and brushes against your skin.

“Beautiful,” she says when you stand and face her.

“You are, yeah,” you surprise her by saying. You dare to reach out for her hand. She takes it easily and interlocks your fingers. “I wish I got you something.”

“Oh, I think you just gave me the best gift,” Natasha says.

“I did?”

“Mhm,” she confirms. “Come here.”

Natasha leans in, pulling you closer to her with the hand that’s free by the back of your neck. Her gentle hand from before has a bit more urgency.

You can’t help but smile as she kisses your lips. Finally, both of you think. Finally.

“Merry Christmas, y/n,” Natasha says when she breaks for air.

“Merry Christmas, Natasha.”

It doesn’t take long before you add a photo of Natasha to the other side of your locket. She’s with you always. Right beside your heart.

[two-white-butterflies]

when he goes down on me

Description: A struggling accounting student meets a successful lawyer. A relationship blossoms. With a few social media excerpts.

Pairing: thranduil/reader

Warnings: age-gap

There was a saying around the school - only the accountings get the accountings. While all the students from the other majors were out partying and dancing until their heels hurt from jumping, the accountings were stuck memorizing business terms and calculating debits and credits until their fingers hurt from routinely tapping their calculators. It was a figurative hell on earth.

And you have always been fond of burning.

It was seldom to see you attend a party, but miraculously your schedule cleared up and there weren't any quizzes or lectures in the vicinity. "Are you already missing the comforts of Harvard?" your father teases and you crack a smile. "God, don't remind me of studying." You groaned while slumping on the leather couch.

You've almost forgotten about the comforts of your childhood home after being surrounded by flashing white lights and empty cans of redbull, comfort wasn't exactly in your vocabulary. "I'm just saying; you ditched school to attend the neighborhood gathering and you are cooped up in this humid living room, avoiding everyone who wants to talk to you." He emphasizes, encouraging you to come out.

"Please, those people saw me grow up. I hardly think that I'm missing out." You reasoned, returning your attention back to your cellphone. "- all they ever talk about is me getting married, or at least having a boyfriend." You added while scrolling past a TikTok video about some random guy bashing Crumbl cookies.

The people in your parent's close circle were typical upper-echelon folks whose only means of communicating with some 20+ year old is asking them about marriage. Of course, your usual reply would be that you are not seeing anyone and they'd blink at you like fucking reptiles. They can't fathom the idea that a young, intelligent and relatively good-looking (not ugly) woman still didn't have a husband.

It did make you happy that they found you interesting enough to have a husband but it was infuriating that being married was the only thing they cared about you. They belonged to a different time, you tell yourself before your mind drifts back into TikTok.

"We have a new neighbor, he's a good fellow but he's a little too young for our crowd. I don't think that he's old enough to relate to Geert's Hoover Deluxe jokes. You should talk to him, you've always had magic with your words." He encourages, and a sigh escapes your mouth. "Dad, I'm not talking to one of your golf buddies." You groaned. Maybe it was a mistake coming here.

You still needed to study for the licensure test, that test was something that you could not fail. It was the first step to your CPA to Lawyer plot-line, if you are unable to handle the pressure of the licensure exam then maybe you aren't equipped with Law School. Then, maybe you should just drop out and become a stay-at-home daughter like your other friend, Magnolia.

"He's a lawyer. He handled that case that you were fixated on, the one with the ballerina and her father. Of course, he defended the ballerina." He did his best to remember your teenage ramblings about Oonagh, the ballerina, and her treacherous ex-husband, Gilbert. "What?" You pry your attention away from your mobile phone. Johnson v Johnson was the court case that began your fascination with law, and the guy who defended Oonagh Johnson was in the same house as you! Goddamn.

Thranduil wanted to let the ground consume him whole. He's spent a lot of time with businessmen and world-leaders alike but BBQ with his neighbors was a different type of embarrassment. He couldn't relate to them in matters of American life or farming, and he honestly doesn't know enough about the outsourcing industry to make a decent connection with these folks.

Of course, he could relate to their wives about perfume, but he doesn't want to be that cunt who talks to random people's wives. He seriously wanted to go home, but then he sees a figure in his periphery. A woman with amazing hair, walking towards him and suddenly everything was happening in slow motion.

She takes a step, her hair moves along with her, the wind is her willing assistant and her lips turned upwards. A smile. Is she looking at me? He tries to hide the fact that he was looking over his shoulder. Maybe she's looking at someone behind me? He thinks, but then again, there was no one standing beside him, save the rose bush.

"Hey," you greet him and suddenly he finds himself leaning back into his true self. The confident defense attorney who charms everyone that he speaks to. "Hey?" He raises an eyebrow, as if he's teasing you. "My dad told me that you were the one who defended Oonagh Johnson back in 2012." You opened your mouth to speak.

Always straightforward. Time is gold.

"Yes, it was a terrible thing what happened to her." He breaths. The case seemingly close to his heart just like this case was to you. "I know that it sounds a little creepy but that is my favorite case in the history of the world. I was thirteen years old-" you rambled and he releases a breath that he was unaware that he was holding.

Thirteen years old in 2012. I feel so old. He muses.

"- I didn't know what I wanted to be, and then I saw you and Oonagh on the news. I knew then that I wanted to be in the same spot as you, defending women, minorities, children. I knew then that I wanted to give what was due. Justice." You finished rambling, he notices that smile on your face.

It reminded him of himself back in his rookie days, that hopeless glimmer in your eyes mirroring back to all the years before him. Some dreams remain dreams, and others turn into goals. "Well, that case is close to my heart. I don't think I've ever told anyone about this before but my mother was a victim of domestic abuse, her father was not a good man, and when I defended Oonagh, I felt some sort of retribution..." He pauses. I shouldn't tell this to a stranger.

"It is a different kind of power that you feel when you do something right. Yes, it is every citizen's right to defend themselves in the court of law whether or not they are guilty or innocent, but I think that you'll realize this when you do become a lawyer. It feels like a breath of relief when you bring true justice to the innocents." He continues. A feeling that feels so far from me now.

"Yeah, I don't know how I'll deal with choosing cases when I'm an actual lawyer but my dad says that I don't have to think about that until after I actually pass the bar." You chuckled nervously. He pries his attention away from his current woes, "Oh, are you studying law right now?" He inquired, his body leaning closer to yours.

"Oh no, I'm studying Accounting right now. It's my pre-law course." You informed, and he slowly finds himself respecting you. "I wish that I did something cool like that, my pre-law was Polsci and I wouldn't recommend it even to my worst enemy." He chuckles, his conscience floating away and instead is focused on you.

The shining starlight that has come to guide him away from this existential crisis. "I've heard a lot of things about that major. Some people say that it doesn't really equip you in law school, but the Polsci majors that I know are such cool people." You smiled, only beginning to realize that the man standing in front of you was h o t.

Hot with a capital 'H'.

He had a cleanly shaven face, and beautiful golden blonde hair that seriously rivaled those of the Targaryens that you watch on HBO. (You are still stuck in Season 5 of GOT due to being on studying jail.)

"That major did not help me in law school. It gave me an overview but law school is ultimately a different demon." He warns, staring deep into your eyes. She looks good, he thinks. "Well, hopefully if I pass next year I'll be able to apply for law school. Are there any universities that you recommend?" You ask and he ponders.

"I finished my degree in Harvard-"

"Fuck," you interrupted him. "No, I'm sorry." You gasp.

"I study in Harvard right now. It's just I found it - I don't know." You mentally cringe, accepting the fact that you've let go of your chance with dating this hot lawyer man. "It's alright, I was gonna say to not study in Harvard. Stanford is much better. I've found really formidable opponents who finished their degree in Stanford." He smiles, finding your quirks to be adorable.

It is not everyday that a woman walks into his life and talks about his best case to date, and then laugh about stupid stupid things. "The food isn't really that great to be honest," you mumbled. "Some things never change." He mused. "Oh wait, I'm sorry. I haven't introduced myself. I'm Y/N Saint." You offer your hand to shake and he takes it.

"Thranduil Greenwood." He smiles while shaking your hand. He lets go of it, and then remembers. "Daniel's your father?" He asks. "Yeah, but he's not really my biological father, he adopted me when he married my mom." You provided a bit of a background information.

He tries to make the conversation longer, in the hopes that you wouldn't walk away from him or that you'd leave at least an email or a number or a facebook profile so that he'll have some way of communicating with you. "He's a nice guy." He compliments.

"He's more than nice," you smile.

Suddenly, your phone rings. "Oh damn, sorry. I really have to catch a plane, but it was so nice talking to you attorney. Um, do you have a phone or anything. I'd love to keep in touch." You turn the alarm off, and focus your attention back to him. He unlocks his iphone and hands it to you. You glance at his wallpaper. "It's my son." he answers, not bothering to hide that fact about him.

"You have a wife?" You tired to keep your tone nonchalant, but it comes out jealous and icky. "No, his mother left when he was born. Funny enough, I couldn't blame her anyways. I was twenty, she was nineteen and she had an art degree." He jests and you try your best to find an instagram app on his phone.

How old is this man anyways? All he had on his phone was whatsapp, imessage, a few apps that were there when you buy the phone, and then two different email apps (email for apple and gmail.) Which made you want to laugh at him, as it was adorable, but you decide to open his notes app. "I don't have any social media except for instagram so I'll just write my username down and hopefully you do have an Instagram at home." Your voice turns nervous at the end.

There was a 50/50 chance that Thranduil had an instagram. "Goodbye, it was nice talking to you." You greet, handing him his phone, but before he could reply - you sprint away.

yournamesaint: mornings like these...

liked by 891 others

>comments

ingridhorstefe: the type of thing u see before going to bed - yournamesaint: chug redbull and the bed becomes a theory - ingridhorstefe: id reply something smart abt management theory but my brain is fcking fried

"Thank you for helping me set up an Instagram account, Tauriel." Thranduil thanks his intern before taking a sip of his coffee. "I don't think that you should post anything for legal reasons, but I already fixed your profile and privated your account. I also told everyone in the firm to follow you, Legolas says he'll only follow you after you get 10 followers so everyone won't think that he's following a bot." Tauriel continues, and Thranduil has no idea what those words mean.

"It is about time that I enter the realm social media. I mean, it is one thing to not have social media but Atty. Elros has an instagram and he's literally fifty something." Thranduil jokes. "I did tell you to sign up, which reminds me, you should follow Atty. Alfred." Tauriel presses the 'follow' button on his screen.

"As much as I hate Atty. Elros he has an amazing feed." He jokes again, and Tauriel nods agreeing with him. "He's actually an excellent photographer, I've heard a story about him actually. I heard that he wanted to be a photographer at first but then had a change of heart because his twin brother became a neurosurgeon..." Tauriel informs.

greenwoodlaw_ has requested to follow you

yournamesaint wants to call you.

"Hello," he greets seeing your face on the other end of the line. "Hey, I'm surprised to see you with an instagram. I mean I'm not stalking you or anything, it just says 'new' on your profile." You found yourself explaining to him, and he responds with a laugh. "Tauriel, my staff, helped me make this account. I figured that it was about time that I make one, I mean even the old lawyers in the neighboring firm have their own social medias." His big eyebrows merged together.

"I was about to give you my phone number yesterday but I remembered that I didn't have a line. I wouldn't be able to call you or reply to the text messages." You reply uneasily. Your father has pestered you about getting a line since the moment you bought your phone, but you shook him off saying that no one texts or calls people in their mobile number anymore. You were wrong.

"I didn't really bother paying for that since it's a distraction." You settle your phone on the desk in front of you, not bothering to adjust it to an angle that'll make you look better. There is no use fighting against what you really look like. "I understand. Shouldn't you be studying?" He asks and you shake your head.

"I'm free, miraculously, but I'll start on some reviewers in an hour. Better safe than sorry." You inform.

"You must always be on your feet." He says.

"You sound a lot like my professor." You teased. "- but thank you for the advise, I shall use it well." You add.

Tauriel walks inside of his office, carrying a stack of files. "Oh, it looks like you've got a lot of work to do." You smile. Tauriel raises an eyebrow but he gives her a glance telling her not to ask any questions. "I guess this is goodbye. I'll call you again tomorrow."

"Goodbye,"

"Bye."

[crystalprepshadowblogs]

Shadowblog 62 - Here We Go Again....

Discord: And my job here is done! Have fun for the next three days, girls! 

Sour Sweet: Discord! Don't you dare vanish before turning Twilight back to her-

Sugarcoat: And he's gone. 

Lemon Zest: So what do we do with baby Twilight? 

Sunny Flare: Why, isn't it obvious? We have to babysit her, of course. It's only for 3 days, I'm sure we can manage. 

Indigo Zap: Yeah. We survived Sour Sweet the last time she was turned into a baby. So I'm 101% sure we got this!

Sour Sweet: Great! That's the spirit! You're great at motivating people, Indigo. It's no wonder you're the team captain of every sports team during our CPA days~<3

Indigo Zap: Thanks. I'm awesome. 

Sour Sweet: With that said…you'll be taking Day 1! (shoves Baby Twilight into Indigo’s arms)

Indigo Zap: Wait, what? Why?! 

Sugarcoat: Because you aren't smart enough to keep your mouth shut. 

Lemon Zest: Good luck, my dude. You'll need it and remember not to set her on fire.

Indigo Zap: I can't believe this…my own girlfriend!!!! 

Sunny Flare: Don't be so dramatic, dearie. She was just rooting for you. 

Sour Sweet: So are we~<3

Sour Sweet: (Sourly) But if you mention anything about last time again, you're dead, got it?! 

Indigo Zap: (nervous) Y-yes, ma’am. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What's up Shadowbloggers! Mod here! How are ya'll doing? I am SO back! I hope you guys enjoyed this little update (despite the fandom has long passed its golden era, but you know...I still miss it). I have a few more posts after this one that follows the shenanigans of the the Shadowbolts babysitting and I can't wait to share them with you guys!

Honestly, I never thought I'd be posting here again due to how life has been kicking me in the butt. It is what it is I suppose. Thanks to the continued support of everyone here, I found the motivation to continue posting here again (the thing I look most forward to actually) as well as working on some original projects myself!

Now, I don't want to make this part of the post too long so I'm just gonna end it by saying this: feel free to drop some questions for the Shadowbolts and I'll see to it that they answer them (tho not all of course)!

Stay awesome!

~Mod

[itzr4v3n]

Lore/Fact dump: Swap AU

Poll has ended, prepare for (maybe) daily posts about my AUs.

So more recent posts by other users featured Irratino and Logico having their beliefs swapped, but I had a different approach when I made this.

For me, it was more of a role and for some personality swap.

Inspector Logico is the rich, slightly reckless president of the Detective Club, while Deductive Irratino is the near broke one who works for the Investigation Institute and is the walking definition “God, give me a break”. Oh, and the stories would be told from Irratino’s perspective. I don’t know how the clues would be structured, but it’s probably going to be like “according to the stars/ the numerologists revealed” etc.

As for Logico giving hints, I’ve made a joke before but I’ll say it again. He would pop up at unconventional times or crash through the literal roof, drop the hint like “the cameras showed Writer Aureolin with a distracting device” and disappear or stick around until the end. It gets to a point Irratino just knows when or where Logico shows up and isn’t even surprised or weirded out anymore.

Example: Following his guts, Irratino went to the bathroom and pulled aside the shower curtain, finding Logico sitting (fully clothed) in the bathtub. The latter silently handed him a crumpled note which read “BLF ZOIVZWB SZEV ZOO GSV XOFVH. R’N QFHG DZRGRMT.”

Of course, suspects have swapped roles as well. As already implied, Aureolin switches with Obsidian, making her Writer Aureolin and {idk} Obsidian. Yeah, I changed the titles because you cannot tell me Dame Aureolin sounds good, next to The Amazing Obsidian- okay, the second one isn’t so bad.

There’s more switches I’ve already settled on, such as:

Grayscale CPA and Mx. Tangerine: Friend’s suggestion, because Tangerine is by far more interesting than Grayscale, considering they’re literally a jack of all trades, so a swap with the opposite. Grayscale’s new name would be Graypainter, given art is probably the most defining occupation, next to a bunch of other stuff. I haven’t figured out a new name for Tangerine though, feel free to leave suggestions.

Dr. Crimson and Radical Crimson: Literally nothing changes besides the title switch. More below, but it’s Volume 2 spoilers

Major Red and Viscount Eminence: Again, spoilers

Basically all siblings swap with each other.

I haven’t quite figured out the Midnight Family yet. Uncle Midnight with Midnight iii perhaps? I don’t know, it’s kind of awkward

Miss Saffron and Earl Grey swap too, the besties are just too iconic to leave out. Not sure what changes, besides Mister Grey being a gossip king and Countess Saffron being the descendant of whoever discovered saffron tea.

Starting here are Volume 2 spoilers, and a brief mention of Volume 1 after Case 50, plus a very minor Volume 3 spoiler (not canon lore related)

You can click off here.

Still reading?

Yay

So those who know, Viscount Eminence is actually the Iron Tsar who took on the new identity to stay hidden.

For this AU, Major Red becomes the Bloody Tsar (Blood Tsar? Red Tsar? The last one is a ship name in my Main AU, lol) and the original, Vladislav, is now Major Iron. I’m going to keep the identity becoming Eminence part the same, just the story goes differently. The ages also stay the same, so that obviously means Major Iron is always on the brink of collapsing and dying. “It is said he drinks his coffee with a dash of blood from his enemies” is the best I got. I would go for the blood transfusions, but the Greywalkers are kind of an essential part of discovering Eminence’s real identity, so shoving that to Major Iron might derail the main lore. Suggestions?

And of course, the crimson sisters matter too. Dr. Addison Crimson is now “Radical” Addison, and Rae “Radical” Crimson is Dr. Rae. I do imagine Rae to be a lot more hesitant when helping the Bloody Tsar because of her morals and values, trying to find the more ethically acceptable options. Addison though? I don’t know what she fights for, but she has questionable reasons.

Of course, I can’t forget about the Violets and Butler Beryl. Beryl is now Lord Beryl and he is not better than the original Lord Violet, except Lady Violet (now Maid Violet) gets dragged into the whole mess as well. The mistreatment she receives isn’t as harsh as her dad’s because she’s still a kid and Beryl sees her as more fragile, but all in all it’s still bad. Then the whole betrayal, backstabbing thing happens, Butler Violet takes Lord Beryl’s identity, he gets killed by the Bloody Tsar, and uh. Maid Violet actually then becomes Lady Violet, because despite it all, both of them somehow made it into the will and she was the rightful heir to the isles, also renaming it to the Violet Isles. I’d imagine Lady Violet, having witnessed all of that as a commoner born kid, being more humble in the future and doesn’t take her wealth for granted.

Also Logico disguises himself as Mr. Light after his “death”. I’ve already featured his design somewhere on my account with some extra information.

Would you guys say it’s okay to swap a religious person with an atheist? Would it be okay to swap President White with Patriarch Porpoise? Because I wouldn’t know who else to swap them with, without derailing the entire main plot that is the civil war. Though then again, the mom-daughter pair Bishop Azure and Astronomer Azure also kind of do the same. I don’t remember if Astronomer Azure is religious, or if it’s implied.

As you can see, some things are up for debate and I have no fucking clue on what to do for Volume 3. Like, should I swap Mauve with Indigo and Mauve dies? I don’t- ehhhhhhh

Anyways, thanks for coming to my presentation about Swap AU. Other alternate universe posts to come

Feel free to ask questions! No guarantee I can answer all

[tewwor]

this who yall want to crunch your numbers? 🤨anyways, hang on lemme just …

THE ACCOUNTANT .

100% was born and raised in an almost painfully normal family. run of the mill everyday officer workers that picked him up on time, tried to attend to school games and performances, had dinner together every night, etc.

did his peers / upperclassmen think he was a delinquent solely based off of his looks? absolutely. did they continuously push him into situations where he quite literally had no choice but to learn self defense? absolutely. did everyone blame him when fights went too far even when he wasn’t the one to initiate anything? without a doubt. did his parents think his descent into troublesome fights during and after school was their fault for raising him wrong? of course. did he feel so completely lost and unsure of who be could turn to without his truth being used against him? yes.

after barely graduating, he started gigs as late night security, did a few bodyguard stunts, met the wrong people that wasted no time with throwing him down as their escape goat. he fell into a criminal lifestyle one punch at a time.

his family stopped calling him. his previous so called friends stopped reaching out. but he was fine with that, though. learned how to take all of that loneliness and crush it into something noteworthy — as a drive to keep himself busy wherever money flows.

then, he met a man that looked just as broken as he felt behind some shitty bar. guy was a fed, but acted like anything but. the stranger’d crass, at his limit, and he felt like being a goddamn saint for no reason. offered an ear to borrow and a shoulder to lean on. learned how far this guy’s moral compass has fallen over the span of a few months. how he’s been debating on the exact thing he’s been sworn to lock behind bars. what the fuck was he supposed to say back? don’t worry about it — things will get better soon? hell. no. he took everything that’d been spilled and transformed it into what he does best. told the guy his father’s one ugly son of a bitch, a real bottom of the barrel kind of scum, and there are far better ways to get revenge compared to murder. and the stranger listened. learned another point of view and stayed true to it. even gave him a card that flashed the name kong siwoo — in case he needed a return in favor.

things somehow got better after that. not right away, no, but they did year after year. he straightened his act. enrolled into some online college just to get a masters in accounting and finance. applied time and time again well beneath his qualifications, only to be turned down simply due to how he looks. he does manage to land a job that sticks, finally. works his goddamn ass off and all of that grueling effort’s starting to pay off.

J.JK VERSE — he’s currently a full time teacher at kyoto tech. specializes in math and sometimes known to offer soft counseling to those brave enough to look past his rugged appearance. his ct is …. math based .. used to a full time tax professional ( yes, he did get his cpa ) and .. maybe chased down some people that owed someone else money. allegedly.

[dawngyu]

HIII. I love your fics, such a great addition to TXT stories. I’m genuinely amazed!

I noticed you’re working, and I’m curious about what you do. You’re the same age as Beomgyu, and I know someone who’s the same age as you but is still in college. Of course, you don’t have to answer this if you prefer not to!

Please, never stop writing. I LOVE U RAYA

Whoa, so cute!!! Well, yeah—I started studying super early (not exactly by choice), so graduating college at 21 was pretty much inevitable. :)

I threw myself headfirst into getting my CPA license as fast as possible. Within six months, I passed all the exams and officially became one. Easily the worst time of my life. My days were a never-ending cycle of waking up, studying, prepping for the exam, eating, sleeping—repeat. I had zero social life. Living alone. People literally had to knock on my door just to make sure I was still alive. It was tough—barely holding onto my sanity, and the only thing keeping me going was watching TXT whenever I could squeeze in a break. (The fact that they unknowingly got me through my lowest point still makes me emotional. Teary-eyed as I'm typing this.)

After gaining some experience, ta-da!!! I landed a job at a major corporate company and am now officially the youngest senior accountant in the building! Gen Zs, arise!!!

Now that I’m finally managing my time better, I started this little, silly blog—and in the process, I found some truly amazing people. I actually feel like a teenager.

BUT honestly, I wouldn’t recommend this path to anyone. I’m only 23, yet it feels like I’ve been grinding away at life for 30 years. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: enjoy your youth. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime chapter, don’t ever rush through it. If I had the chance to start over, I’d do things differently. :>

ILY TOO ANON AHHH

[joshualunacreations]

Happy Lunar New Year! In our house, we’re jokingly calling it the Luna New Year. I’m proud and excited to announce that my partner, Alexis, is about to publish her debut novel! LOVE IN THE OCCULT TRAUMATIC is a paranormal romance set for digital release on March 1st. I provided the cover art for the characters, and Alexis and I worked on the cover design together. Here’s what the story is about:

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁 𝐻𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠. 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑚𝑎 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒.

Heidi Bauer would give anything to not be able to read people’s memories. Yet every time she sees blood, she loses consciousness and gets a glimpse into the private inner worlds of the wound’s owner, tracing through the events that caused the injury—with frightening precision.

She can’t tell anyone this, of course. It’s bad enough that she has severe PTSD and hemophobia, but unexplained magical powers as well? She’d rather spiral into jobless poverty than admit the truth and risk getting locked up in some kind of mental institution.

That is, until she meets the handsome and caring Dr. Bùi Đức Khiêm. Despite Heidi’s intentions of telling no one her secret, she finds herself opening up to the psychiatrist better than her own therapist—in more ways than one.

And yet, while Dr. Khiêm may not have any powers, he’s hiding secrets of his own. So when a mysterious figure starts to stalk Heidi in pursuit of her hidden gift, it isn’t just her safety that’s threatened, but Khiêm’s too. Together, Heidi and Khiêm learn that not all wounds are visible—and healing them may cost one of their lives.

𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐀: 𝐴 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑖𝑛𝑗𝑢𝑟𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑟 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. — Just a warning, it’s steamy! So if you’re interested, know someone who would be, or even if neither apply, we would really appreciate it if you could spread the word about the book and help find readers. It’s been a joy to witness Alexis’ journey through the years, from a CPA working for one of the big four accounting firms to pursuing her talent and passion as a novelist. Although I sometimes feel a little guilty for inspiring her with my comic book career—the path of following your dreams is definitely not easy. But Alexis’ fire gave me the gift of helping reignite my own fire, especially when there have been many people throughout my journey who’ve tried to snuff it out. So in this year of the dragon, let’s remember to protect those dreams and the inner fires that fuel them. 🐉

Alexis set up a FB and Tumblr page, so feel free to check them out, say hi, and give her a follow!

[wttcsms]

heyoo i was thinking about changing my major to accounting or something of the sort and was wondering if u had any advice about it?

in the least negative way possible, i wouldn’t necessarily recommend accounting to everyone haha. what’s your original major? if you’ve taken a few beginner accounting courses beforehand, i assume you know what you’re getting into. i will say learning accounting is oftentimes super boring and the concepts seem difficult to grasp for a lot of people. at my university, a majority of my classmates ended up dropping the major and switching to something else. there’s actually an ongoing decline of accounting students, accounting profs, and CPA’s in general + i want to get into academia as a way to help combat that!! i don’t love accounting itself, but i think it’s an awesome, versatile major that currently has a lot of opportunities.

there are barriers that occur when you take a traditional accounting career approach (obtain your master’s in order to qualify to sit for the cpa exam, actually being able to afford to take the cpa exam, actually passing the cpa exam, criminally low starting salaries in comparison to your other peers, long work hours, etc.) and it can sometimes feel like a fruitless endeavor or a constant uphill climb with little to no reward. however, there are so many other careers you can get into with an accounting degree. truthfully, if i could turn back time and do it all over again, i’d probably pick a different major LOL, BUT!!!! it’s not all bad. like everything else in life, it just takes a lot of work

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Tbh, if it turns out to be true that mhj leaked contracts and confidential info as she's been accused of, I think any legitimate gripes she may have with other labels at hybe about competition and managing concepts will be buried under that. Like it's interesting certainly, and took up a lot of time in illit and nj spaces for the past couple months, but it was brought up to defend against what could end up being an accusation of illegal activity. They're two different issues masquerading as equivalent. They may even be related if they spurred activity on either side but certainly wouldn't excuse what's been alleged.

***

Of course, which is why I keep highlighting that there's too little information, but that really won't stop k-pop stans from running with their theories lol.

What's known is that there are two primary accused parties, MHJ and the VP who is unnamed. MHJ has said she's innocent of leaking contracts (no surprise there), and there's the unnamed VP with a CPA credential who has been accused to have facilitated the leak of confidential information. Given he hasn't been named while MHJ, who is already notorious, has, it's only natural that most of the focus stays with her regardless of what she says or what she actually has done. She could be guilty or innocent and it wouldn't matter.

Like I said, the fact a shareholder vote has already been called before the audit (and related allegations on contract leaks) has been concluded, is giving textbook power wringing. It happens all the time and hardly implies what most people think it does. My view on this issue runs contrary the dominant ideas here. I've said all I'd like to in the prior post.

[togrowoldinv]

Memory

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

You feel like you’ve met her before, but you just can’t remember when or how. It turns out there’s a lot you don’t remember

Note: Hey y’all. I have been swamped these last couple of weeks studying for and taking a part of the cpa exam, but I finally had a free moment to have some fun. I went and saw Argylle, so this is loosely inspired by that. Enjoy it!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

The room is silent aside from the clicks of a keyboard as Natasha tries to break through a firewall. She’s smart, but the person who created it is slightly smarter than her.

The redhead smirks when she is one step from breaking through, but her cheekiness doesn’t last. An alarm sounds and she’s met with at least ten agents swarming all around her.

“Oh hey, guess you guys found the party,” she says in her usual cool under pressure tone.

She uses the agents’ hesitation to begin attacking them to deal the first blows. She takes them down two at a time until there’s only one left. She knows who he is.

“Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way?” Natasha asks.

“You know what I want,” he says.

“And you know what I want,” Nat replies.

The two of them keep their guns in ready position. Nat alerted for backup, but she knows most likely she’ll have to handle this on her own.

“Where is the woman?” The man asks. He shakes his gun at Nat. She sees a weakness in the way he’s holding it. He won’t last.

“If you give me the intel, I’ll give you her location,” Nat says.

“You’re lying!”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m telling you the truth. They’re never really that different, right?”

“Drop your weapon,” he tries another tactic.

Natasha just smirks. She moves her left arm down and the man mistakenly thinks she’s giving in. The moment he shifts his aim Nat takes a shot at him. It’s an easy shot for her.

He goes down and Nat finishes gathering her data from the computer before she quickly gets out of the building. That backup she was waiting for finally arrives as she’s making her way outside.

“Thanks for the help,” she says sarcastically as Steve opens the door for her.

“Sorry,” he says. “We can’t be everywhere all the time. What were you even doing here?”

“Gathering intel,” Nat says simply. She shows him the flash drive and he just shakes his head. “The more I can find out the better I can help her, Steve. It’s an easy choice to make.”

“Nat, she’s so far gone,” he tries. “It might be worth stopping.”

“I’ll never give up on her. She’ll be herself again. I know it,” Natasha says. “Now, will you help me get this to Stark to decode?”

“Of course I’ll help you, Romanoff.”

She nods in thanks. For the rest of the drive, Natasha thinks about what her next step should be. There’s no easy fix to this situation. She needs to go where her mind works best.

Meanwhile, you are working on cleaning tables when the most beautiful woman walks in. You’ve seen her in here several times since you started working here.

She always sits at the table in the corner and orders coffee and a piece of chocolate pie. It’s always the same thing. You’ve never waited on her before, but somehow the stars align today and you’re covering that section.

You walk to her table and take a deep breath. She’s even more beautiful from this close up.

“Hey, how are you today?” You ask her.

“I’m okay,” she replies. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” you say. It’s your typical response when a customer asks you that question. “What can I get for you, ma’am?”

She orders her usual. You feel her eyes linger on you as you pour the coffee and bring her slice of pie to the table.

Something feels familiar about the way she smiles at you in thanks.

“Do I know you?” You ask her. She doesn’t reply, but you notice she looks away from you. “Sorry, it’s just that I had some memory loss so I’m just not quite sure who I know at this point.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry,” she says. “I don’t think we know each other though, no.”

“You seem familiar,” you tell her.

“Well, I am an Avenger so maybe that’s it,” she says. “I’m Natasha.”

“Right. The superheroes. It’s nice to meet you, Natasha,” you say. “I’m y/n.”

You hold out your hand for her to shake. When she does, you swear there’s still a lingering feeling that you know her. Maybe you’ve just seen her on television.

“I better get back to work,” you say.

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” Natasha says.

She stands from her chair and drops cash on the table. Walking towards the door, she stops short and turns back to look at you. You offer her a smile that she returns.

With that, she disappears into the city. The rest of the day goes by seemingly without any other excitement. You can’t stop thinking about your interaction with the woman, which is why you thought you were dreaming when she shows up at your door.

You blink hard to try and wake up, but the reality is that she’s truly here.

“Natasha?” You ask confusedly.

“I don’t have time to explain,” she says. “Can I come in?”

“I- what? Okay?”

She takes that as a yes. She walks inside and goes straight to the corner of the room where she picks up a piece of the floor to reveal a secret storage area.

Natasha fills her bag with the weapons that were stored under the floor.

“What is happening?” You ask her.

“Just trust me,” Nat says.

“I just met you today and you somehow know about this secret area of my house I didn’t even know about. And I’m supposed to trust you?”

“Yes,” Natasha replies. “Come on. Get some shoes on. We have two minutes.”

“Two minutes before what?”

She doesn’t get the chance to answer before a loud bang comes from outside. A series of car doors close simultaneously.

“Look, I know you don’t know me but you have to trust me. These guys are after you and if we don’t bail in the next thirty seconds we’re dead. Got it?” Natasha says.

“What?” You ask. It seems to be the only word in your vocabulary right now.

She grabs your hand and pulls you through your house. Once you’re outside, you go through the fence to the neighbors yard.

“Here,” Nat says, pulling you to a motorcycle that’s waiting there.

“I am not riding on that,” you say.

“Then you’ll be dead within minutes. Come on, y/n,” Nat says. She puts the helmet on your head involuntarily.

You have no choice but to listen to her. Hopping onto the bike, you hold on tight to her middle as she drives through the streets. At some point, a van is tailing the two of you. Natasha turns down every alleyway and street she can to get you away from the tail.

“When I say jump, you’ve got to jump!” Nat says over the roar of the engine.

“What?”

You’re quickly approaching a road that you can see has no end. She drives full speed ahead before letting go of the handlebars.

“Jump!” Nat shouts.

You cling onto her as you both jump. You have no idea how far the drop is but somehow you land in water. Natasha pulls you to the surface quickly.

You get to shore and try to gather yourself some. You’re so confused about all of this.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Am I okay?” You ask her. “Seriously, you’re asking me that? I don’t know who you are or what’s happening. We just got chased by a van through town and jumped off a motorcycle into a fucking lake. Do you think I’m okay?”

The woman has the audacity to smile at your words.

“I’m sorry, do you think this is funny?” You ask her, feeling fury seethe inside you.

“No,” Natasha says too quickly. “No, it’s just- nevermind. We have to get to the Avenger’s compound.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you tell her matter of factly.

“Y/n-“

“Don’t!” You interrupt her. “Just leave me alone.”

Nat raises her hands in surrender and watches as you walk away. She lets you get ten steps ahead before she follows after you.

“I told you to let me be.”

“You’re up there all alone. I just happen to be walking in the same direction,” Natasha reasons. “Although, the compound is the other way.”

Despite the fact that you were just doing insanely dangerous tasks with her, you feel a certain safety in her presence.

“Why should I go with you?” You pose a question.

You notice her hesitation in answering. Like she wants to tell you something but she just can’t.

“If you just come with me, I’ll explain everything there. Okay? Please give me a chance,” Nat says. “I won’t be responsible for them finding you and finishing the job.”

“What job? I’m just a waitress. Who could I possibly have wronged?”

“I promise I’ll explain later,” Nat says. “Please follow me.”

You relent and follow her. There’s no reason for you to trust her but somehow you do. It doesn’t take long to get to the compound once Nat hot wires a car.

“Y/n?” A girl asks when you are inside. You look at her despondently and she frowns. Natasha gives he’s her a look.

You follow Natasha to what seems to be a laboratory. There’s a large screen on the wall.

“Ah welcome,” a man says. You recognize him as Iron Man. “You’re just in time.”

“For?” You ask.

“The truth,” another man answers. You’re pretty sure he’s Captain America.

Before you can speak again, photos of you litter the screen. There are some of just you and some of you and the other Avengers.

“What the hell?” You wonder aloud.

“Y/n, we wanted you to remember on your own but it’s taking too long,” Tony Stark explains. “Natasha tried to jog your memory just by being in your presence, but that didn’t work.”

“So I do know you?” You ask the woman.

“You know all of us, y/n. You’re an Avenger.”

“But I’m- no. I’m a waitress,” you say. Your head feels like it’s spinning.

“That’s what they made you think, but you’re not. You’re a special agent,” Steve says. “And one of the best.”

“I don’t believe you. This is all a joke, right?”

“It’s not a joke, y/n. Why do you think we knew those people were after you? Or that I knew about the floor in your house?” Natasha asks.

“That’s easy. You’ve been spying on me.”

“No,” she says simply.

“Then how?” No response. “This is just insane. I’m leaving.”

You start to walk away. You hear Natasha’s footsteps behind you.

“Natasha,” a warning voice comes from Tony. “Don’t.”

“You know what, you go ahead. Take a car of ours, y/n,” she says.

She holds up a pair of keys. You reach for them, but instead of giving them to you she throws a punch your way.

You surprisingly dodge it with ease. Natasha smirks at the way you look at your arms in confusion.

“How did I do that?”

“Come on, throw one,” she taunts you.

You do your best to punch her, but of course she dodges it. You spar back and forth until you’ve both had enough.

“Great, now that that’s over. Do you believe us?” Tony asks.

“I’m not sure,” you say. “How could I not know I’m an agent?”

“Brainwashing,” Natasha answers. “Very effective brainwashing.”

“But why?”

“Because you were going to uncover a huge invasion of Hydra in the government,” Steve explains. “We still can’t find the data that you had before they took it from you and erased all of your memories.”

“So the memory loss, that was a real feeling I was having?”

“It was,” Nat says. “The reason why wasn’t a car accident as they told you though. They captured you and essentially knocked you senseless.”

You rub your hands over your face as you try to take all of this in. Just a few hours ago you thought you knew who you were, but they’re telling you something completely different.

“We wanted you to remember on your own, so it might not be so overwhelming,” Nat says.

“So, we’re all what? Coworkers? Friends? I don’t remember any of you, or anything you’re describing,” you say.

“We’re friends,” Steve says. “You’re friends with all of us and with Nat-“

“Steve,” Nat interrupts. “She doesn’t need to hear that right now.”

“I don’t need to hear what?”

There are shouts down the hallway that interrupt your conversation. Tony suits up and Steve grabs his shield.

“Get her to safety,” he tells Nat.

She grabs your hand and takes you down the hallway to a door and down a ton of stairs. Nat locks a door behind her once you’ve reached the lowest level.

“They’ll handle them,” Nat says. “But the further you are from the fight the better.”

“What was Steve going to say?”

“Hm?”

“About you and me,” you prompt her.

Natasha tears her eyes from yours much the same way she did when you questioned if you knew her earlier.

“Natasha, please just tell me. Clearly, everything I thought I knew was a lie. What’s one more thing?”

“Okay,” she agrees. “We were- you and I were together.”

“Together?”

She nods.

“Define together. Like dating?”

“Kind of yeah,” she says. You look at her for more details. The silence prompts her to continue. “We were married. We are technically married.”

“Oh,” you say.

“Yeah. I didn’t think you were ready to learn that,” Nat says.

“So that’s why you knew your way around my place?”

“Our place,” she says. “But they moved all of my stuff out before you went back there.”

“Natasha, I don’t- I can’t remember anything,” you say.

“I know,” Nat says sadly. “We kept our distance once we realized what they did to you, but we’ve never stopped making sure you were safe.”

You hear the sound of the fight getting closer. Natasha reaches for your hand. She places a loaded gun in your palm.

“I want to remember.”

“You will,” Nat says. “But right now, you’ve got to fight.”

To be continued…

[princeorion]

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Null

Tacocat598

[yourlocalmissingtexture]

There’s this thing my mom, grandma, me, and some of my great aunts so that I’m sure is pretty common but honestly I don’t see that often (might have something to do with the fact that I don’t get out much but eh). Idk but I really like it because it’s so silly.

Unless the subject is like deathly serious, if people are talking and someone says something just right, we’ll get reminded of a song and can’t help but sing.

Some hypotheticals that I could absolutely see happening because I can’t think of any specific examples:

“Wait you guys aren’t talking about me are you?”

“You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about you, you’re so vain (You’re So Vaaaaain), I bet you think this song is ABOUT YOU, DON’T YOU, DON’T YOOOOOOOU?”

“Show me where you found that.”

“SHOW ME HOW TO LIE YOU’RE GETTING BETTER ALL THE TIME AND TURNING ALL AGAINST THE ONE IS AN ART THAT’S HARD TO TEACH”

[talking about a movie] “It came out in 1985.”

“Debbie just hit the wall, she never had it all, one Prozac a day, husband’s a CPA, her dreams went out the door! When she turned 24. Only been with one man, what happened to her plan?”

“I can’t get this thing to go back together.”

“I know the pieces fit ‘cause I watched them fall away mildewed and smoldering, fundamental differing-”

Then of course there’s the random unrelated singing. Mostly Mom and I do that. Often it’s stuff stuck in ours heads but sometimes I’ll just randomly remember a song and have to sing it. We annoy the shit out of each other with those because she listens to tons of slow songs (which are fine! Just most aren’t my thing) and I usually have Insane Clown Posse or Rammstein stuck in mine.

Idk. Family bonding lmao.

[macwantspeace]

Democracy is never guaranteed.

While it may be true that history doesn’t repeat itself, it sure as shit is rhyming right now.

JoJoFromJerz

Jun 10

∙

PreviewREAD IN APP

Before I get to my thoughts on the President’s visit to France, I have something to say because frankly, I’m fed up and I’m angry as hell.

Because I am so fucking sick and tired of the mainstream media opining on why it is that “Joe Biden’s accomplishments aren’t reaching the public.”

Why his “messages aren’t getting through.”

Before they pan to a guy at a touchscreen wall explaining how the number of 47-53 year old psychology majors turned CPA mothers of 3 in the states which begin with the letter I who have moved “away from the President in this election”, is “something we need to watch over the course of the next 5 months.”

And then, and THEN, that same wall-sized touchscreen warrior will swipe to the next screen which shows the number of Americans who believe Donald Trump wants a federal ban on abortion at like a 4 on a scale of 1 to 1,000. Without uttering much more than a “wow” as observation,

Why aren’t his accomplishments reaching the people?

Why aren’t his messages getting through?

Why don’t more Americans know what Trump is actually promising to do to our rights once in office? Why don’t they remember what he actually did TO this country when he was in office?

Why don’t more Americans know what Joe Biden is promising to do FOR us if he gets a second term?

Gee — I have no fucking idea why, because it can’t be that they aren’t fucking talking about it as much as they should, if they’re even talking about it the fuck at all.

The problem can’t be that they keep repeating the fact that the good news isn’t reaching the people, without ever really telling the people, the good fucking news at the same time?

That just can’t be it, can it?

Well hell yes, as a matter of fact, it is. At least in part. A significant part.

And they damn well know it. But don’t take my word for it, take theirs. As the President concluded a powerful, inspiring and poignant speech at Pointe du Hoc, some “expert” on one of the many letter channels which shall remain nameless, went on and on about how the speech, reportedly intended to evoke one of Reagan’s more iconic moments, just didn’t really matter, because no one was watching like they would have been in the 80s when a speech like that would have been on all the major networks. (The three major networks could have carried Biden’s speech too. It was on their cable outlets, but that simply isn’t the same).

And that was their coverage of the speech for the most part. How it wasn’t Reagan’s. How it didn’t measure up. While the Qrackhead Brigade ran with multiple, easily disproven, disgusting lies, all fucking weekend long.

Lies which were shared all over social media.

(I’m reserving my commentary on J.D. Sniveling Weasel Taintsucker Vance for a separate post).

The mainstream media didn’t have to cover every moment of Biden’s trip. But they should have at least covered it fairly and comprehensibly and they simply did not.

They didn’t really even listen to the words our President delivered. They were looking for him to attack Trump. That’s it.

“He didn’t mention Trump by name.” That’s what I heard most.

But here’s the thing about that — he doesn’t have to mention Trump, we all know who he means. He knows all too well the threats to democracy we face at the moment. The world leaders he was speaking to know as well.

We are talking about a madman who has told them, the leaders of the very same nations our soldiers died for when they scaled those cliffs, that he will let a murderous Russian despot do “whatever the hell he wants to them.”

They know the danger Trump represents.

And they needed to hear what our current President had to say to assure them that he will not abandon them. That WE will not abandon them.

In the same way that we did not abandon them 80 years ago.

I truly believe that the President needs to run on the fact that he’s the candidate who will stand for democracy, versus the one who is promising to be a dictator. I believe his campaign believes they need to hammer that as well. Because it’s true. Because that is a message which resonates across the political spectrum. And then, when he has an opportunity to shout that message from the top of those magnificently beautiful, historically consequential cliffs and does so, the media says, “He didn’t say Trump’s name.”

I didn’t hear any of them mention Trump’s NATO comments in reference to the speech. Not once. But Biden did refer to them, in his own way. One which they failed to cover.

“The struggle between dictatorship and freedom is unending… We cannot let what happened here be lost in the silence of the years to come. We must remember it, honor it and live it… Democracy is never guaranteed”.

“We cannot let what happened here be lost in the silence of the years to come.”

That is as close to saying “we cannot let Trump win” as anything could be, without actually saying it. And it needed to be said.

It needs to be said, here and abroad over and over again until November. Those soldiers did not die in vain. We owe it to them to keep our democracy intact. We owe it to them to carry the torch forward. We cannot ever forget why they were there. Why they fought. Why so many of them were willing to die. Why so many of them did.

Eighty years ago, a swell of American soldiers stormed the beaches at Normandy. They hurled themselves into the water, onto the sand, through the tall grass, dodging bullets and artillery shells while the bodies of their buddies piled up all around them. Young men, a few years older in many cases than my own son, who’d never so much as left their hometowns, were confronted with the face of true evil, with Hell itself, and in the face of unthinkable peril, they fought with everything they had, not for themselves… but for their country. For democracy.

For freedom.

The world was under attack by the enemies of liberty. By a handful of immoral, illiberal megalomaniacal demagogues hell-bent on attaining unrivaled power at all costs. Complete control. Of everything and everyone. No matter how nefarious the means. {jo from jerz set substack to subscribers only, so I copy/pasted}

[dngrcpckwithmurdericing]

i reblogged this, but also i want to be clear: i do in fact work in a slow paced environment that is mostly consistent. i work 7.5 hours every day (and frankly i usually only spend about 3 hours working, unless i have a lot of meetings). 3-5 times a year i have to work late or go in on a saturday for an event, but i know about those times months in advance and can plan around them.

if you're looking for this, think about getting into fundraising or grant-writing for nonprofits. the bigger the nonprofit, the bigger the team you work with, the slower and more consistent your days will be. (the smaller the nonprofit, the smaller the margin you're working with, so the more stress you'll be under to bring in money.)

usually when i recommend this job to folks, their first response is to tell me they don't like to make phone calls. my guy, neither do i. and if i make two phone calls a week, that's a heavy week for me. last year i had a day during which i had to make 25 phone calls and not a single person answered the call or called me back. i still raised millions of dollars for my organization.

don't like to ask people for money? no problem. major gift officers or chief development officers make the direct asks. grant writers do not. mid-level fundraisers usually do not. you write the emails, find the pictures to illustrate your direct mail, and organize the database.

love data? there are tons of places looking for folks who know how to use Excel/Google Sheets and can process data, and help draw conclusions from the patterns of giving. (let me tell you something: if you can figure out how to upload shit to a database using a CSV, you are 200% ahead of the majority of people i've worked with in the past decade.)

like databases? nonprofits love databases, work with just a few across the whole industry, and always need people who know how to use them or can learn. many nonprofits have a person whose specialty it is to run the database - not the backend, but to run the output for the fundraising officers.

like numbers? finance departments at nonprofits always need people and at the places i've worked, only 1/4 - 1/2 the folks in a finance department are accountants. and when people think of accountants, they usually think of a CPA, but there are so many other jobs someone with a degree in accounting or bookkeeping experience can get, and again if you can use Excel and navigate a database, you have a leg up.

(don't come here and tell me that of course all accountants can use Excel. I spent several years working with a finance department that not only was full of people who could not use excel, but they were furious when i introduced multiple Excel spreadsheets to development's finance processes, and would often refuse to open them, work with them, even just look at them. they also could not use our Salesforce iteration and insisted on using a microsoft access product that had not been updated since 1996. seriously, i wish i were joking, but 1996. when told she would be forced to abandon her 1996 access database for salesforce, the woman who ran the department quit. she quit rather than use salesforce.)

anyway, yeah, look into working for a nonprofit. idealist.org is a decent place to start, to get an idea of what's out there. your favorite nonprofit probably has a careers page, too. don't forget to check glassdoor for reviews, though, because some places are extremely toxic. good luck.

every employer is like "do you want to work in a fast-paced environment? with flexible hours?" where are the slow pace environments with consistency instead