#cause it's better than writing in a memo when your thoughts are going faster than you typing

[youchangedmedestiel]

Destiel AU idea (again)

Dean is searching for a flat because he recently divorced Lisa. He wants one that is big and comfortable enough to welcome his children, Ben and Emma. It's been months since he started searching for one. Fortunately, Lisa is understanding enough to let him stay in their old house until he finds something.

They actually aren't in a hard and conflicted relationship right now, their marriage stopped because there wasn't love between them anymore. They still care about each other.

Dean knew he wasn't in love with Lisa anymore and he suspected the same for Lisa, but he was fine with it. Lisa though thought otherwise. She asked for divorce because she said that they both deserved to find love and be loved.

So, Dean is doing his umpteenth visit for a flat that he spotted on Internet. This one seems really nice and clean, his children will be able to have their own rooms. And the kitchen looks awesome with enough place for him to cook.

The real estate agent who give him the tour of the flat isn't bad either. He has blue eyes, which looks surreal, long and dark eyelashes that match his hair and his growing beard. Dean listens to him attentively and can't help but look right into his eyes when he speaks. Dean wants to confide in him and he does that naturally actually.

He tells him that he is sick to search for a home for his family. It's been months, and he's exhausted to be disappointed each time he thinks he found something. But at the same time, he wants his children to feel good in that new home so he is demanding.

That real estate agent, Castiel, is compassionate and doesn't understand why Dean doesn't find one with his solid, complete application. Castiel tells Dean that maybe it's because others real estate agents are struggling right now. There's a lot of people searching for a new home at this time of the year, so a lot of work. Castiel admits that he, himself, is buried in work all day long.

He works 6 days a week constantly. Since Dean is really attentive to what the man in front of him says, he notices that Castiel doesn't seem to have someone in his life to get back to. So, he goes for it. He asks Castiel if he wants to go and get a drink with him once they have finished the tour.

Castiel seems surprised by the offer and looks away. He fumbles with his pen and papers and puts them on the kitchen counter. He takes a deep breath. So, Dean fears his answer.

"Are you asking me on a d-" Castiel starts asking hesitantly.

"Yes." Dean cuts him, because he somehow fears that word. It sounds too official and he's still living with his ex. Plus, it's been a while for him.

"O - okay. Yeah." Castiel agrees, and neither of them is able to look at the other.

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

[jordanlahey]

Devilish (1/?)

Pairing: the lost boys x demon!reader (there isn’t an exact romance pairing just yet.)

Summary: You heard that Max and his boys were killed by amateur hunters but you knew that wasn’t true. However there is now word that others are coming to claim their territory whether they are alive or not.

Word count: 1859

A/n: I’m no good at the summary cause i just had an idea and wanted to start writing so forgive me if it drags on a little longer than it’s supposed to but I have a general idea on what I’m wanting!

It's not long after the sun goes down that the monsters come out to play but not the monsters that your parents tell you about in stories like the big bad wolf or big foot. No, the ones that feed off human blood if you unfortunately catch their eye, the ones that cower in the dark during the day but they forget the other kind of monster that looks seductive to the eye with their lips dripping with sin ready for another taste, The monster that's as old as time itself, one that feeds off sins and the lust for souls of the poor and unfortunate. No one is ever warned about making deals with the devil, they don't believe in all that stuff but they'll believe in fairytales. Humans. Poor pathetic people.

You hadn't been to the surface in so long maybe around 86 years? You had heard that a certain coven of vampires have been eliminated but that was hardly likely, you tend hear a lot when you're down below. It was boring down there surprisingly, you all had a job to do you got the job of collecting souls but even then it takes 5 years or more for you to collect them. If you were lucky a certain demon would let you collect some souls on their behalf which is exactly why you are here anyway. Making your way through the boardwalk you can point out all they needy ones ready to make deals, you walk past a certain video store first not that you had any interest in buying or looking more likely the person who had owned it.

You strolled into the store looking around until you spotted who you were looking for. Max smiles at the customer as he bid them farewell, his smile dropped when he saw you walk to his counter.  "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

"Oh don't be like that Maxy." You pouted and leaned against the counter "I'm here on business not for you yet." You smirked but he kept his stoic expression causing you to sigh. "I heard you and your boys were no longer...undead shall we say?"

"You should know that we can play a lot of mind tricks on people Y/n." Max narrowed his eyes, he was no fun.

"I thought as much, how are the Emerson's?" You could tell that comment struck a nerve, you knew after they whole fiasco that Lucy drove herself and her sons elsewhere. "but while I'm here I might as well warn you, others think you are dead and will try claim your territory." You picked up a lollipop from the bowl and unwrapped it, Max just looked at you unbothered. You really weren't getting much out of him. "Come on Max, why do you not like me anymore? Long ago you considered me a daughter to you. What changed?"

"You changed Y/n." You rolled your eyes, course you changed that's what happens when you giver in to your instincts. Even if you could change you still wouldn't be the same.

"You of all people should know what giving into temptation is like." With that you left, you weren't gonna argue with him, you had people to see, your night was already planned: find the ones who's time is up, go make more deals, have a little fun messing around. Very, very busy. Max will come around when he wants to know about he's coming to make Santa Carla theirs, you also wouldn't mind getting your hands a little dirty.

Motorbikes roared as they speed down the walk ways and people screeching to get out the way, the bikes came to a stop and off came the four boys. The night was young and so were they, beautiful as they come but deadly as they are. They were also on the prowl for a meal as well as for to cause chaos around the boardwalk, as per usual the boys would head to the carousel for the start of their long night, this time the Surfer Nazi's know to steer clear of the lost boys they won't be their target tonight. However, after they leave the ride they all catch sight of a girl they've never seen before leave the video store, she looked good enough to eat and the boys would be happy enough to pass her around.

You made your way through the crowds to the bar where a man sat all by his lonesome, he fidgeted nervously his this hands and kept taking long gulps of his drink. It was obvious that this was the man you were looking for, walking slowly towards the table you joined him and a smile played on your lips as you batted your eyelashes at him in a seductive manner.

"You must be her? I got told that it would be someone different." Oh, so they hand out memos now? How mundane, the man dabbed a tissue on his forehead a few times before taking one more long swig of this drink. "I have a favour to ask." You chuckled at him, who is this man? Does he not know basic deal rules?

"A favour? And what might that be?" You looked over at the bartender and you silently asked for a drink, the man before you fiddled with his tie before clearing his throat as he tried to muster u[ the courage to spit out whatever he wanted to ask. People rarely ask for second chances from a demon, the ones that know better and are ready to face the consequences of their actions. Humans get 5 years with whatever their deal was however, depending on said deal and how easily you can persuade the demon before you, you can be given more than 5 years but only on the day of the meeting and NEVER after the deal has been made.

"I.." Your drink arrived and you swirled the straw around the glass waiting to hear this favour, resting your head on the palm of your hand. You lift the drink to your lips before he blurts out what he wants "I would like to make another deal!" You almost choked on your drink, this guy actually asked you for a new deal? That's the favour? How rich.

"Tell me something, haven't you heard about the rule 'no wishing for more wishes' in the presence of a genie? This is the same thing you cant ask a demon for a new deal when your time is already up my friend." You smiled darkly at him, however he is brave enough to ask but it was the dumbest question in your opinion.

"Wait! I can get you more souls! Err...my wife's, a colleague, my brothers! Any that you want!" You rolled your eyes, humans really are cruel. They'll do anything to get what they want. Greedy, selfish bastards, you look forward to sending this one to Hell he'll go straight to the fourth circle. You get up to leave knowing he's going to follow you whether he wants to or not, probably best to head down the alleyway to avoid more mundane eyes for this. "Wait! Where are we going? I want 5 more years! I'm not ready to go just yet." When you reach the bottom of the alleyway you pin the poor man up against the wall, your face now showing the anger you held back.

"Who do you think you are demanding 5 more years!? You don't get to ask for more with no soul. You belong to me now, your soul is mine for eternity. You never made a Deal with the devil if you are not prepared to pay the price." With that you snapped your fingers and the man was no longer there, nothing but a small piece of glowing blue light that flowed into your body. That's what a human soul had looked like.

David and his boys had split up trying to look for the girl they had seen leaving the video store, they lost her in the crowd and she didn't have a scent or at least they didn't get close enough to get one from her. David was starting to get annoyed was gonna give up and find his brothers until Dwayne had sent him a telepathic message that he had found her heading into woods, David chuckled and met up with all of them by the bikes and off they went.

You knew you were being followed, they were going to catch up in no time so why not have a little fun? You started running, slow enough for them to still see you. You were taunting them making this a game of cat and mouse, now tonight was starting to get interesting they were Max's boys definitely but he didn't set them on you no no, they are hungry and you will be their meal for the night or so they thought. You take a sharp turn away from the dirt path to go further into the woods so that they pull have to abandon their bikes and go on foot or fly if they must, if this was going to be a game might as well make it as fair as possible. The boys do as you planned they go on foot running faster to the point they were already catching up, you could hear Paul;s taunts he was the closest behind you, now if you played this out right you could lose them just a little further.

The boys skid and come to a stop, you had vanished from their sights and they had lost your scent again, Marko and Paul growled in frustration while David and Dwayne were trying to figure out how you out ran them, now you knew about them but they knew nothing about you and that's what made it so fun. It you were still there with them watching them as they circled the spot you left them in, you planned to stay at watch them a little longer but you couldn't wait any longer.

"Yoo hoo up here boys." All them them turned to look at you siting on a tree branch. "Looking for me?" You smirked down at them.

"Hey pretty lady, why don't you come down here and do this the easy way." The glam rocker known as Paul called up to you, you thought about it for a moment and you know Paul would be the most fun one to play around with. You shrugged your shoulders and got off the brunch but as son as you got down David already had his hand around your throat and against the tree you were just in, it shocked you but you chuckled bitterly.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at." He sneered however he has a slight smirk on his face too.

"You must be David no doubt." You looked at the others "Marko, Dwayne and Paul." You pointed to the boys as you said their names.

"How do you know that?"

"I know everything." You reply.

[afaithy]

12 for Takari?

OOOH GOD, I really had issues over how to write this one, but I finally managed to do it. 

I think it turned out pretty well all things considered :). I really hope you like it.

Send me ask & MasterPost

I am pregnant

“She used to say that the human heartbeat was the first music that a person heard, and that every child was born knowing the rhythm of her mother's song.”

― Kate Morton

She’d been feeling sluggish lately. It was nothing out of the ordinary and she blamed it to work since she’d been having some rough days recently. She should have seen it coming when she enlisted to help out at the ER onJou’s request. The Koushiro Incident was the cherry on top of the day. Jou had decided to save his opinions out of consideration for his old friend, but she had caught him trying to keep himself from laughing several times after the whole incident was over.

Who would have imagined that coconut oil could cause so much trouble?

Yamato and Taichi had been way too drunk to remember most of the incident, but Takeru who had been the chaperone during the bachelor party had witnessed everything and she had caught him writing something in his notebook at the hospital cafeteria later that night. He hadn’t told her what it was, but she was slightly suspicious that her dear husband was actually recounting the whole incident to use a funny story to retell in the future. Fortunately, Koushiro’s little problem had been solved with some epinephrine and steroids and they hadn’t had to lament any losses.

Still Hikari didn’t remember ever feeling this off, not even during her internship time, and those days had been the most tiring of all

“You’re not looking too hot,Yagami. You okay?” Yoshinori-san, the head nurse of the ER said. 

“Yeah...I’m feeling a little tired.”

“Tired? Well, yeah. It’s been busy lately, isn’t it?” Yoshinori-san said with a nod “But you should talk to doctor Kido. There seems to be a cold bug going around. I’ve seen a lot of people with cold symptoms coming in.”

“Yes, I don’t think it is a cold. I don’t feel feverish…” Hikari said, feeling her forehead “but I will ask Jou-senpai to be sure. Thank you, Yoshinori-san.”

 Jou was sitting in his office with a face that did not hide his exhaustion; he rested his head over the desk wondering if he could spare a couple minutes of sleep when he heard a timid knock on his door. Hikari was standing in front of the door with the same tired look that he had, holding two steaming cups in his hands.

“Oh..hey…” Jou said, fixing his glasses back in place. 

“Hey, long night, huh? I brought you something and I know, I asked for soy milk...don’t worry.” she added when Jou was about to comment. Her childhood friend smiled and accepted the cup, enjoying the comforting warmth between his fingers.

“Long... That’s an understatement…” Jou coughed “Never had I imagined I’d have to attend one of my friends in such...curious condition.”

Hikari giggled.

“And even less that that friend would be Koushiro-san.”

“Yeah...I could have expected it from Taichi or Daisuke; hey even Yamato, but Koushiro?” Jou snorted, taking the cup to his lips. He had expected coffee, but to his surprise, it was tea.” Oh, not coffee today?”

“Uh...yeah, sorry. I intended to get you coffee, but the smell just made me feel sick.”

That couldn’t be right, Jou thought. He put down the cup and looked at the woman sitting in front of him with an inquisitive look. He had known her for almost all his life, and he was well aware of her fragile health. Though it had improved considerably in the last few years, worrying and sounding an alarm at the slightest hint that she wasn’t feeling alright had become a habit of his. 

“Sick?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been feeling too well lately” she said casually. Hikari leaned on the desk and began pressing her temple. A mild headache was starting to hit her, and it was making her feel a little dizzy and lightheaded “I guess it might be fatigue. I mean, I’ve been so tired lately.”

“Well, the ER is a busy department…” Jou admitted “but still, when it comes to you...sometimes it is better to be safe.”

She somehow knew that he’d said that. Well, she’d come ready to receive an impromptu health examination from the start, so she didn’t complain.

“So...nausea?” Jou asked. 

“Yeah, pretty often lately and very sporadic.Strong smells make it worse.”

“Fever? Coughing?”

“No, normal temperature, I think?” she shrugged “I mean it's mostly fatigue, nausea, dizziness and mild headaches…”

Jou was writing down the symptoms in a notepad, when a sudden thought hit him. 

“Hikari-chan...when was your last period?”

Jou and Hikari looked at each other for a moment. SInce both of them had been working together regularly and were very professional, their expressions were serene.However, it didn’t make the silence less awkward.

“Eh...last month?” Hikari said, unsure “I can’t remember. I think I am a little late this month, but I’ve never been regular so…”

“Well, in your situation...I wouldn’t scratch the possibility. Let’s run a test, just to be sure shall we?”

The hCG test results arrived faster than Hikari had expected and Hikari suspected that Jou might have used his influences in the lab. Her friend entered the office with a stoic expression.

“So?” Hikari asked expectantly.

“Eh, yeah...I think we need to make a quick stop at imagenology, Hikari-chan.”

Hikari was speechless and for a brief moment considered pinching herself to make sure she hadn't fallen asleep in the nurses' room and was dreaming.

Jou smiled and handed her the lab result. Written in small letters  said Positive and next to the result was a scribble that Hikari recognized as Jou's handwriting: "Congratulations, you're going to be a mom!"

The events that followed this revelation were like a blur: Jo accompanied her to the imaging department, and the day's surprises (including Koushiro's unexpected visit to the ER) weren't ending.

Hikari was not only 11 weeks pregnant, but there were two small creatures growing in her womb and they both looked perfectly healthy. The girl could not contain her tears when she heard the small and rapid heartbeats of the two little ones.

“Well, look at that…” Jou grinned, as they walked back to the ER “Two little ones, huh? I can’t imagine Takeru’s face when you tell him.”

“Nor can I…” Hikari giggled, looking at the photo she was holding. A photo of her two babies.

“I can’t imagine Yamato nor Taichi’s faces either…” Jou laughed “Especially Taichi’s. I think he’s still in denial about the fact that you’re married and what that implies…”

Hikari laughed. Taichi was going to lose it and poor Takeru would be the victim, but maybe Yamato would give him a hand. She knew that once the shock had passed, Taichi would be overjoyed by the news. 

“So how are you planning to tell him?”

“I think I might have an idea…”

It was later that day, when her shift ended that she snuck into Takeru’s study and scanned the ultrasound into his laptop and set it up as his desktop image with a tiny little sticky  memo with one single sentence:Look at what we made.

She was in the kitchen when she heard the chair fall down, and patamon screeching desperately asking if his partner was ok? She simply smiled and rested her hand over her abdomen. 

From all the surprises she got that day, this was definitely the best one yet.

=========================================================

As usual Here’s a chibi (sorry I can’t draw ultrasounds :P)

[glazslippers]

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

Pairing: Stanley Uris x OC (female) Warnings: cursing

Summary: Quinn had spent her whole life protecting other women from the dangers of men. When she met Stanley, she thought he was just like every other boy she had come across, sex craved and egotistical. Although one of those was correct, that didn’t stop the feelings she felt towards him form.

A/N: this is my first fanfic i’ve posted on here and i honestly feel like a mom on snapchat. if you like it please let me know and i might continue writing things like these in the future! (i’m really sorry if this sucks)

Even though Quinn Macey had moved to Derry less than three months ago, that didn't stop her from making tons of friends. They loved her outgoing and sarcastic personality and the fact that she didn't take shit from anyone. She wouldn't constantly stick up for them at school and in town if there was a guy trying desperately to get into their pants. She was often nicknamed spitfire or hot head or a string of other names, drawing inspiration from her short temper and red hair.

It was no secret that in the three short months she'd lived in Derry, she gained a string of female friends partly because she refused to talk to any of the boys at school or on town. It was her own personal grudge that she held against every living male. They didn't cause anything but trouble in her opinion and the only thing on their mind was sex.

Because of her refusal of boys, many of them and even a few girls had coined her as lesbian, not that she minded. She dressed girly enough, but when she wanted to she could get down and dirty, playing a variety of sports. In her old town, she played on a softball team that won a few state-wide games. She had also dabbled in football and soccer. Though soccer wasn't her favorite, she played it anyway.

When she moved to Derry, she had to quit her team and say goodbye to her friends, which she probably won't hear of again. Starting at the end of the school year might have been hard for anyone else opposite of Quinn. She decided to start out nice, warming up to everyone but when a few guys tried hitting on her, she quickly put her in their place and made it clear she wasn't interested. They had bugged her over and over. If it was just some one time thing she might have looked passed it but since they kept on pestering her, she had to take matters into her own hands.

The last day of school was nearing an end and Quinn found herself eyeing the clock. Her reasoning behind staring at the gadget was nothing more than "maybe if I stare hard enough it'll tick faster." It obviously didn't get the memo, and continued ticking at its agonizingly slow pace.

Maybe it was the sun shining from outside through the classroom window onto her skin, or the fact that she couldn't wait to get out of the retched classroom and was bouncing her leg up and down so much that she had broken out into a small sweat but one thing was certain: today had to be the hottest day of the year.

Quinn thought of the regret she had for wearing jeans and had her hair down while she fanned herself off with her right hand. She had already tied her shirt up as high as the school would allow but it didn't help because of the broken AC system in the class she was in. She looked outside, seeing the seniors leave school early, being dismissed by the teachers because they were upperclassmen and did the calculations in her head. If the seniors already walked out, they must have been released by the teachers, like everyday, five minutes before school let out. Quinn started counting down from 300 in her head.

297, 296, 295.

She couldn't focus on whatever the teacher was saying. The small heat stroke she was having didn't help with focusing either.

230, 229, 228.

She leaned her head back, fanning her neck and wrists. Her once ice filled water bottle became a lake of boiling lava in her metal cup.

134, 133, 132.

Quinn wondered if she had gotten to the halfway mark or already passed it while she was counting. She didn't think she could take one more minute of being without air. Black spots clouded her vision and she lied her head against the window.

97, 96, 95.

She was getting so close. Less than a hundred seconds to go until she could escape the body heat filled room and into the hot summer air. At least she would feel something other than hot.

Quinn was two seconds away from ripping her shirt off and using it as a noose when the bell rang. She sprung up as fast as she could and bolted out of the door. One of her friends, Savannah, walked by her and Quinn grabbed her arm.

"I'm dying," she said in between pants.

Savannah raised an eyebrow at the dramatic girl in front of her. "You good?"

"Do I look good?" Quinn retorted. "I am the definition of lava. If you look it up in the dictionary you'll see a picture of me melting."

"I take it you're hot?"

"How are you not? It's literally two hundred degrees out!"

Savannah rolled her eyes and closed her locker. Ah head just cleaned everything out and placed it all into her book bag. With an amused smile, she looked down at Quinn who had her head against the tall blue lockers. "Wanna go swimming?"

The words sparked energy into Quinn's body. Suddenly, she didn't realize that she had drops of sweat rolling down her face or the bottom of her hair had stuck to her neck. All she cared about was the cool release of hitting the cool body of water and cooling off.

At the mention of swimming, Savannah watched Quinn's eyes widen and laughed. "I'm guessing that's a yes?"

"That's a hell yes!"

Quinn and Savannah hopped out of Savannah's car and Quinn had never undressed herself so fast in her entire life. She stripped down to her underwear and immediately ran and jumped off the cliff that towered over the river. Savannah looked over the edge, worried when her friend didn't pop back up but let out a sigh of relief when Quinn's head poked its familiar red hair out of the water.

"Come in it feels so nice!" She yelled up at the brunette looking over the rocks.

"I don't know, Q. It's pretty high up."

"Just jump! It'll be over in an instant!"

Savannah shook her head and backed away from the edge. "I can't do it."

Quinn rolled her eyes and swam to land. She crawled out of the water and hiked back up to where Savannah was standing. Her wet body weighed her down but the second she rang her hair out it felt as if she lost five pounds.

"Here," Quinn grabbed Savannah's hand. "I'll jump with you."

"Quinn," the brunette whined.

"Don't whine, you baby. It's just a few feet."

"A few feet?" Savannah yelled with wide eyes. "Girl, that is at least three hundred feet."

"Maybe, but once you jump you'll realize it's not that high at all."

"Yeah, but I'm not jumping."

Quinn groaned. "Sav, I'm gonna day this in the nicest way possible: stop being such a pussy and jump."

Savannah frowned. "That was you being nice?"

Quinn shrugged and cornered Savannah where she was back to the edge. "You're either gonna hump or I'm gonna push you. You're choice."

"Quinn," Savannah warned. "You better back up." The ginger smirked and an evil glint shone across her eyes.

If it weren't for a group of teenage boys pulling up on their bikes behind them, Savannah would've been done for. The girls' head snapped around to see who had joined them. There were four boys, obviously outnumbering them and probably had the same idea they had after school let out. They threw their bikes to the ground and some removed their shoes while the other removed their shirts, obviously not noticing the two girls half naked in front of them.

Stanley turned his head to the direction of the cliff, sprinting over to it but stopped when he saw the girls. "Um, what're you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Quinn said with a little more attitude than she meant.

"Well, obviously we're gonna swim. So, why don't you too head home and play with some Barbies or whatever."

Quinn scoffed and Savannah sighed, knowing what her friend would do in this situated. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Stanley rolled his eyes. "Get lost."

"I'm sorry, who was here first?"

By now, the rest of the boys came over to their friend, backing him up against the girls or one girl in particular. "We come here every summer so it's our hangout," Richie said.

"Oh, sorry. Well just be on our way then."

Stanley crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows when she didn't move.

"What, you thought I was serious?" Quinn bitterly laugh. "I knew boys were dumb, but I didn't think they were that dumb."

"W-We're not d-dumb!" Bill replied.

"Well?" Stanley said.

"Well what?"

"Leave already!"

Quinn put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. "No. We were clearly here first. Doesn't matter if you guys come here every summer or not."

"You must be new around here cause this is our space," Richie spike.

"And so what if I am? I don't see your name on this cliff."

Stanley glared at the girl in front of him. "Who do you think you are?"

"Quinn Macey." She smiled almost taunting him to keep bugging her, which he gladly did.

"Well, Quinn Macey, why don't you and your friend head home before you get yourself jumping off this cliff."

Quinn grabbed Savannah's hand protectively. "Her name is Savannah and I've already jumped it. But you pretty boys are probably too chicken to jump aren't you?"

Stanley scoffed and walked forward, making the friends behind him walk forward too. "You think we can't jump it?"

"Nah I don't think that's it. Maybe it's the fact that you're just threatened by two girls who rightfully deserve to stay at your precious little river."

Stanley laughed. "You think we're threatened by you? A spoiled brat that can't stand not getting what she wants?"

"You little-" Before Quinn could get close to Stanley, Savannah held her back by her arms. Quinn obviously struggled against Savannah's grip but the brunette wasn't looking for a fight, she just wanted to swim.

"Stan, maybe we could just share it," Eddie whispered to the curly headed boy in front of him. He also wasn't looking for a fight and wanted to remain peaceful, knowing Stan was too stubborn to give up and Quinn probably was the same.

"Share? Ed, have you gone crazy? Why would we share the river with some random girls?"

"Well, I don't really wanna fight over it and it seems like the best option. We both get what we want," Eddie shrugged.

"I-I'm fine w-with sharing," said Bill.

"Not you too," Stan sighed and looked at Richie. "Rich, tell them sharing's not an option."

Richie looked away from Stanley, kickoff the dirt underneath him. "I mean, all I want to do is swim. I guess it wouldn't matter if there are chicks in the water or not."

Stanley groaned. "Fine."

"So you guys are leaving?" Quinn asked, crossing her arms.

"No, we're gonna share," Eddie explained. "That way we both can swim."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "No way. There's no way-"

Savannah cut Quinn off. "We'll take it!" At the ginger's gaze she shrugged. "What? I want to swim."

"Good." With that the boys finished taking off their clothes, leaving them in only underwear.

"So, are we swimming with strangers or..." Savannah trailed off.

"That's Bill, Eddie, and Stanley," Richie introduced, "and I'm Richie."

"Savannah and Quinn," the brunette formally introduced.

Stanley and Quinn kept glaring at each other during the introductions as if the first person to look away would lose their little mind game between just the two of them. During this time, Eddie, Bill, and Richie had already jumped from the cliff. Quinn obviously had no intention of moving her gaze until Savannah grabbed her arm. She cursed herself when her head turned to meet Savannah's gaze. Stanley held a satisfying smirk on his face because he had won their staring contest.

"Q, I'm just gonna take the long way down."

Quinn frowned. "No jumping?"

"You know I'm terrified of heights."

"Fine. I'll be down in a minute."

Savannah walked away leaving Quinn alone with Stanley. Stan walked up next to her and got into position for a running start. Quinn followed his actions, giving him a challenging smirk. Stanley narrowed his eyes and shifted his gaze ahead. They took off at the same time, another wordless challenge adapted to see who could jump the farthest.

Quinn thought for sure she jumped farthest and swam back up to the surface with a satisfying smile on her face. That was until she saw Stanley pop his head up and flip the hair out of his eyes. He was just a few feet in front of her and a frown formed on her face when she saw the teasing glint in his eyes as if he was dying to annoy her by saying he had gotten farther than her.

With a huff, Quinn swam over to where Savannah had gotten in at and began chatting with her, occasionally swimming further out to get away from the boys.

Stan tried his best hiding the looks he gave Quinn from afar but the boys had caught on since he wasn't that good at hiding. Richie splashed Stan's face to stop him from staring.

Stanley wiped his face and glared at Richie. "What was that for?"

Richie smirked. "You were staring."

"Was not."

"We're to."

Eddie joined in. "It was kind of obvious that you were staring, Stan."

"Stan l-likes Q-Quinn," Bill teased.

Stanley splashed Bill in the face to shut him up. "No I don't. I'm just annoyed that they're here."

"I'm not," said Eddie. He turned to the girls that were a little further out than they were. "Hey, guys!"

Their heads turned to the voice shouting at them. Stan's eyes went wide as he hit Eddie in the arm. "What are you doing?" He whispered.

Eddie shrugged. "Inviting them over for a game." He turned to the girls that started swimming over, led by Savannah. "Wanna chicken fight?"

"How do you play?" Savannah asked. The boys stood on the shallower end so when the girls came up, the water was up to their chests. Quinn stood behind Savannah with her arms crossed, not particularly wanting to be around Stanley.

"One person gets on another person's shoulders and fights the other team. The first first to knock the other off, wins," Eddie explained.

"Okay, who's gonna get on who?" Quinn questioned.

"We'll switch it up so it doesn't really matter right now."

"Okay, Savannah. Hop on." Quinn went under water and let Savannah climb on top of her shoulders. When she was on, Quinn went back above water and grabbed onto Savannah's thighs so that she wouldn't go anywhere.

"How the hell did you-" Richie started but was interrupted by Quinn.

"Sav's a twig. She weighs, like, two pounds."

Richie got on Bill's shoulders while Eddie and Stanley watched. Richie and Savannah grasped hands and started fighting. Bill and Quinn navigated to help better their team's chances at winning by moving from side to side or forwards and backwards. It was a tough fight, but eventually Richie was the victor. Richie yelled how proud he was and Bill shook him off his shoulders.

"Who's next bitches?" Richie asked, ready for another round.

"I wanna go," Quinn announced. Savannah seemed to have a lot of fun and it would be extremely satisfying to knock one of the boys off. "Sav?"

Savannah's eyes widened. "Um, no offense, but I'm not as strong as you."

Quinn playfully glared at her. "Are you calling me fat?"

"Don't worry, Quinn. Stan's pretty strong, he'll be able to hold you," Richie winked.

"I'm not fat!"

"Alright, Eddie get your ass over here so I can get on your shoulders. Quinn you get on Stan's shoulders," Richie instructed. Stan and Quinn's eyes widened at the boy's words.

"No way!" They yelled in unison.

"Everyone else has gone. Stop being losers so we can play the game."

"Fine," Stanley huffed and went under water so Quinn would have an easier time of getting on. After a few seconds, he still didn't feel her weight on his shoulders and popped back up. "You just gonna let me drown?"

"That was the plan," Quinn admitted with a smirk on her face.

"Will you just get on, brat?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist." Stanley dipped back under water and Quinn crossword over his shoulders. He came back up and placed his hands a little too high up for Quinn's comfort. She smacked them away but the second she started falling back tugged on Stan's hair. His neck got hot and the tips of his ears went red. "Got a thing for hair pulling, pretty boy?"

"I won't hesitate to let go," Stanley warned.

The truth of the matter was that Stanley was beet red. Only Eddie and Richie could see him like this and to anyone else they would've thought that Stan was just having a tough time keeping Quinn up. Except that was the opposite of what was happening. Stanley was quite strong as he used the muscles in his legs to hoist them up out of the water.

It just so happened that the mix of hair pulling (one of his turn ons), the fact that her stomach was up against his head, and the his touch on her thighs made him blush all over. Oh, and also because her crotch was sitting on the back of his neck.

Quinn and Richie joined hands and the boy knew that if Stanley was in his place he would've had a field day at what he was witnessing. Because Quinn was bent over and her arms had squeezed to the sides of her breasts to meet Richie's arms, her boobs had smushed together. Richie didn't dare look but he could still see them from where he looked on her face.

They fought back and forth, Quinn pushing at Richie and the other way around. She would occasionally grab onto Stan's head to regain her balance and when she did, Stanley backed up so that Richie wouldn't take the opportunity to knock her off. After a few minutes of struggling on both ends, Quinn eventually pushed Richie off Eddie's shoulders.

The boy went down with a loud yell and defeated, emerged from the water with a frown. "I really just got beat by a girl."

Quinn had a proud smile on her face. "Don't take it personal, I'm just stronger than you." She patted Stanley's head. "You can let me down now."

Stanley went under water and released his grip on Quinn's thighs. Once he didn't feel her on him anymore, he returned to the surface, almost bumping into her. Neither said anything, but both had a small blush on their cheeks as they swam to their separate groups.

Savannah didn't miss the pink tint on Quinn's cheeks and shared a knowing look with Eddie. She and Eddie walked onto land that was about two yards away to get away from the others.

"So, are they in love or are they in love?" Savannah laughed.

"All of the above," Eddie responded with a smile similar to the girl in front of him and looked at Quinn and Stanley who were hiding behind both Richie and Bill.

"And what are we gonna do about it?" Savannah asked, rocking on her feet.

"What do you mean?"

Savannah rolled her eyes. "Well, if we're gonna set them up we gotta have a plan."

"Oh, right. How about we all go to the movies and make them sit next to each other?" His eyes suddenly went wide at the thought he had. "And they can share a bucket of popcorn!"

"Shh," Savannah shushed him. "That's a good idea. But what movie are we gonna see?"

"How about a horror movie?" Eddie suggested.

"That's genius! I know Quinn and she gets scared easily. A scary movie will have her jumping into his arms."

"The theater's doing a rerun of all the eighties scary movies on Saturdays. So tomorrow they'll be playing A Nightmare on Elm Street."

Savannah nodded. "We'll be there."

"Are you gonna be scared?"

Savannah laughed at his question. "Hell no. If there's one thing I have over Quinn it's scary movies. I love them, she hates them."

"Alright, we'll meet you guys there at six, okay? By the time we get out, it'll be dark."

"I'll make an excuse on why I can't take her home and then Stan'll have to walk her." She wiggled her eyebrows.

After a few more hours in the water, it started getting dark out, which meant it was time to leave. Quinn decided against putting on her jeans and instead slipped her shirt over her head and put on her socks and shoes. Her shirt was rather large because it was her mom's so it came down a little above the bottom of her butt, still showing the underwear underneath.

Savannah didn't miss Stanley's stare directed towards Quinn's body and held a big smile on her face. Once in the car, Quinn questioned why Savannah was smiling so large.

"Cause I have a huge crush on Stanley Uris."

Quinn didn't sense the joking tone in her voice and replied with a simple, "Oh."

Savannah snorted at her friend who stared out the window like her soul had just collapsed. "I'm just kidding, he's all yours."

Quinn's head snapped to the driver and scowled. "I do not have a crush on Stanley. Did you not witness what I witnessed today? He was an ass."

"Or maybe, he was having a bad day."

"Or maybe, he's an ass."

Savannah rolled her eyes and continued driving. "Wanna go see a movie tomorrow with the boys?"

"Is-"

Savannah interrupted Quinn's question. "Is Stan gonna be there? Yes."

Quinn glared. "That's not what I was gonna ask. Is someone gonna pay for my ticket? Cause I don't have any money."

"I'll pay for you, sugar baby." Savannah winked.

"Thanks daddy." The girls erupted into laughter.

The next day, Savannah showed up at Quinn's house just before five. Quinn was still getting ready as Savannah walked into her room. She was contemplating whether or not to wear her smaller hoops or go bold and wear larger ones. "Which ones?"

Savannah raised an eyebrow at Quinn's attire. She wore a short blue sundress that had no sleeves and reached just above her mid thigh. It might have been one of the shortest dresses she owned but it definitely wasn't number one. She didn't wear any makeup, like always, but had lip gloss on her lips.

"The small ones," Savannah decided and watched Quinn put them on in the mirror. "Is all this for Stanley?"

"Will you shut up? It's hot outside and I am not making the same mistake as yesterday."

"I'm guessing that's the same for the earrings, lip gloss, and perfume?"

Quinn have her a look. "We're going to the movies with a group of people. Why not get a little dolled up?

They hung out for awhile at Quinn's house until it was time to leave. They both hopped in Savannah's car and drove into town where they would meet the boys at the movie theater. Savannah had yet to tell Quinn what movie they were going to see but she could only assume it wasn't something sappy if the boys were tagging along. Or maybe they were tagging along with the boys. Either way, they were going to see a movie and Quinn hoped it was going to be good.

The boys were already waiting for them as they pulled up and parked. Quinn noticed there was one less male from yesterday and furrowed her eyebrows as they neared the group. "Where's Stanley?"

Eddie and Savannah looked at each other knowingly while Richie responded. "He's inside away from the heat. We've been here for awhile."

"It is pretty hot out," Quinn admitted. "How long have you guys been here?"

"Since four thirty. Eddie forgot what time we needed to be here so we've just camped out waiting for you two," Richie explained.

"Well, lets go in and buy our tickets."

Savannah bought her and Quinn's ticket while the boys bought theirs. When it came to who was getting popcorn, Bill and Richie would share a bucket, so would Savannah and Eddie and Quinn and Stanley.

"Wait, why can't we share a bucket?" Quinn asked Savannah as she took the bucket of buttery popcorn in her hands. Movie theater popcorn was her favorite kind of popcorn. It was popped fresh in front of you and you could determine how much butter you wanted on it.

"Cause I'm not sitting next to you. I'm sitting next to Eddie," Savannah said as they walked into the theater where the movie was playing.

Eddie sat next to Savannah, who was adjacent to Bill and Richie. Quinn found herself sandwiches between Richie and Stanley. A duo she didn't know if she could handle without her open minded friend. Reluctantly, she handed the bucket of popcorn to Stanley. If she wanted some later, she'd grab it herself. When she usually shared, Quinn would set the popcorn on the arm rest but right now she wanted to rest her arm on it.

After what seemed liked a thousand previews of every movie other than the one they were watching, the movie started. The theater went black and the only lights were the emergency ones and the big screen in front of them. Quinn grabbed popcorn and shoved it in her mouth, almost chocking when she saw the title come up on the screen.

THE NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET

Quinn watched in horror with wide eyes then turned to her left, looking over Richie and Bill and scowled at Savannah who was happily eating popcorn. Resting her back into the chair, Quinn sank down and mentally groaned.

"What is it?" Stanley whispered.

"I wouldn't have come if I knew we were watching this," Quinn responded. She would rather puke her own guts out than watch anything gruesome or filled with jump scares. Unfortunately for her, it would be a long night full of violence and scares.

Quinn wasn't expecting a sex scene to show up and the moment it did, she immediately became uncomfortable. Thankfully, it passed by quick enough and she was left with more agonizing jump scares. One scene in particular made her grab onto Stanley's hand that was resting on the arm rest.

The movie continued with little touches like that. Sometimes when Quinn stuck her hand inside the bucket of popcorn, Stan's hand would be there too and they would brush up against each other.

Then there were times when Quinn got really scared and hid herself in Stan's shoulder to stop herself from watching the screen. Stanley was more than okay with the times she got scared. He didn't want to seem too forward and comfort her back but he let her continue hiding in his shoulder.

When the movie ended, Quinn bolted out of the theater to finally get air and leaned against the wall, the rest following shortly after.

"S-Scared of a m-movie, Q-Quinn?" Bill teased.

"Not at all. I was just getting a little hot," she lied. The group walked to the front of the theater and Quinn looked out the windows with wide eyes. "Oh, it's dark."

"That a problem?"

"No," Quinn snapped a little too harsh at Richie's taunt. "I think we should head home, Sav."

"About that, mom said I needed to be home at eight and it's already seven fifty-two. Could you walk home?"

"A-Alone? Out there?" Quinn's gaze went from Savannah to the pitch black outside.

"Stan can walk you home," Eddie suggested and nudged his friend. "Right, Stan?"

Stanley's head shot up at the mention of his name. "What?"

"You'll walk Quinn home, right?"

"Uh," Stanley looked at Quinn who seemed nervous about walking home alone. His expression softened. "Yeah, sure."

"Okay, well I had fun guys, but I should go so my mom doesn't rip my head off and feeds it to the dog." Savannah waved goodbye and got in her car and left. Richie, Eddie, and Bill all left together, leaving Stanley and Quinn alone.

"So, did you like the movie?" Stan asked.

"Hell no."

Stanley laughed and Quinn felt her heart beat a little faster when he did. "I take it your not much of a horror fan?"

"I avoid them like the plague." Quinn crossed her arms and continued looking outside, almost as if she was looking for any supernatural creature or serial killer hidden behind street lamps or alleyways.

"Where do you live?"

"The culdesac off Baker Street," Quinn responded. When they started to walk, she noticed her shoe was untied and told him to wait as she bent down and tied it. "Okay, we can-" Quinn gasped and froze when she felt a hand come in contact with her bottom.

Stanley's eyes widened and his head shot to the culprit. It was some teen who didn't go to their school. Luckily, he was Stan's height so when the Jew grabbed hold of the boy's collar and lift him up, he didn't have to move far. While up in the air, Stanley pinched him in the face and threw him on the ground. Some of the people in the same area witnessed it happen and also saw that when the manager came out, Stan grabbed Quinn's hand and ran outside. They didn't stop running until the theater was out of sight.

Quinn was in shock and confusion by what had just happened and who she had froze instead of beat the boy to a pulp then and there. Maybe when you've defended other girls your whole life, it comes as a shock when it actually happens to you. Quinn was extremely lucky to have had Stanley there beside her in her vulnerable moment and snuck a glance in his direction.

His forehead glistened under the lamp's light because of the sweat from running and he stuck his hands into his pant pockets. He looked down and tried to regain his breath. They walked in silence for a few paces until Quinn finally spoke up. "Thank you."

Stanley looked over at her. He wasn't going to push the subject on her so he let her speak first before asking any further questions. "It was nothing. Are you okay?"

Quinn nodded and frowned. "I should've chopped his dick off and made him eat it right there." Stanley raised and eyebrow and Quinn huffed. "All I've done my life is try to protect other girls from men like that but the second it happens to me I freeze? It's pathetic."

"It's not pathetic. It's just different when it comes to protecting yourself. Instead of an offense attack, it's defense. Two different tactics."

"Then I guess I need more practice on defensive strategies."

They walked through the dark with only the light of the street lamps over their heads. From her left, Quinn heard a bush shake quickly and pounced onto Stanley's side, grabbing onto his arm for dear life. He looked down at her and the second she realized there was no danger, she looked at him. It was only for a second before she jumped back to where she was beside him earlier.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"I-It's fine." He looked down at her and bit his lip. "If you weren't just sexually assaulted, I'd ask to kiss you."

Anger rose in Quinn's body until his full sentence registered in her mind and her face softened. "Y-You would?"

"Yeah. You're pretty and confident and when you jump into me it makes me feel more like a man."

Quinn rolled her eyes with a smile. "I guess I wouldn't mind if you asked."

"Really?" Quinn nodded. "So, can I kiss you?" Quinn nodded again and Stanley bent down and placed his lips on top of hers. Even with the limited knowledge about these encounters didn't stop her from kissing back. Her hands made their way up his neck and while one stayed there, the other trailed up into his hair and twirled it around her finger. Stanley placed his hands on her sides and pulled her in closer so that their hips were touching. He was bold enough to run his tongue along her bottom lip, asking for entrance and she was fine with it, letting him in.

Their little kiss had turned into a make-out session in the middle of the sidewalk until a sound from behind Quinn made her break away and dart her head towards it. It was just a bird flying out from the bush but that didn't stop her heart from pounding fifty miles an hour. Stanley's puffy lips turned up into a smile as he grabbed hold of her hand, reassuring her that it was alright.

"Sorry," Quinn apologized and under his gaze, blushed. He was the only one that had ever made her blush and she didn't know how to act.

"It's fine. Come on, we're almost there." They continued to walk, neither one talking about their shared moment just a few steps ago and fell into a silence before Stanley broke it. "You know, as a man, I don't claim him as part of my gender."

Quinn chuckled. "'As a man,' huh?"

Stanley scoffed in shock. "I am eighteen. Legally I am a man. And I look like one, too." He flexed his muscles.

Quinn let her eyes sweep over his body. "Whatever you say, pretty boy."

"Pretty man," Stan corrected with a smile and Quinn just rolled her eyes.

[hollandbliss]

dreaming of a white christmas (4) / tom holland.

word count: 2,120 pairing: tom holland x reader. warnings: mention of masturbation and sex. and nothing more? summary: the reader is excited about bringing her prince charming home for christmas to meet her family. but a week before christmas the plans fall through, and her prince isn’t as charming as she thought. but maybe her irritating but good looking neighbour can help her out? a/n: i really liked writing this part and i hope you enjoy reading it! in the next part they’ll meet the family and everything and i’m hyped! 

part 1. / part 2. / part 3 / masterlist.

the day was finally here and you and tom were driving up to your families house. it would take about 6 hours in the car before you were there. and usually you wouldn’t mind the trip but now you were going with tom... which you barely knew. you had been so focused on telling him everything he needed to know about your ex, so he remembered all the details. 

because both of you needed to have it all figured out cause if either of you did something wrong, it would be extremely awkward for the both of you. your siblings would never let you forget it if they found out you had paid a guy to be your fake boyfriend over christmas. just the thought of it made your stomach twist and turn.

you had packed your things the night before. everything from your ugly christmas sweater to your finest lingerie. why had you even brought them? you had bought them for christmas night, which you thought you would spend with your boyfriend. now your ex boyfriend... maybe you wouldn’t get any action over christmas but you spent money on them and then you were going to bring them. and that was the end of it. 

you had rented a car for the two of you, because living in london and having a car wasn’t something your wallet could afford. last night you had texted tom telling him that he should be ready by 8, you needed to start moving pretty early so you would get there a decent time.

but of course he hadn’t answered but you hoped he had got the memo. and as you looked down on your screen it turned to 08:00, so you walked out your door and down the hallway a bit to tom’s apartment door. 

you knocked a couple of times, wanting to hurry things along so you could get out on the road. again you knocked and suddenly the door opened. and tom stood there, looking like he had just woke up. his curls were messy and he was still in sweatpants. “oh come on tom, just tell me that you just need to get dressed and then you’re ready to leave. please.”

“relax y/n, i actually just need to to get dressed and then i’ll be ready.” and a grin appeared on his face as he talked. he still annoyed you very much. he didn’t seem to care that it was important to you to be on time. “i’m just gonna get my jeans on and then i’ll be ready...” he motioned for you to come in but you hesitated for a second before stepping inside. 

you stood in the kitchen as he went into his room to change. clearly you had been to his place before, but you always found new knick knacks to look at. your eyes got glued on a little batman pop figure in his bookshelf. you picked it up and looked at it for a moment before you heard his voice again.

“all ready.” tom was clad in simple blue jeans and t-shirt, and a bag thrown over his shoulder. he looked great, he really did. even if he was just in a plain outfit, the t-shirt showed off his great physique. you tore you eyes away from him, not wanting him to think that you’re staring. 

you got yourself together before you replied, “fine, let’s go.” you couldn’t let him know that you were actually attracted to him because then he would win. and then he would never stop having that stupid smug smile on his face.

with your bags in your hand, you two made your way out on the street where the rental car was parked. “is this your car?” excitement was written all over him when he saw the car. and you became very satisfied with your choice of car. “do you really think i would be able to have a car while living in london? really?” you raised an eyebrow at him before packing your things in the car.

“yeah well... i guess our apartments is expensive enough.” he replied before getting in. you adjusted your seat and started the car. “okay, let’s move. only six hours to go...” you said as you exhaled. what were the two of you even supposed to talk about?

as you drove off, tom fiddled with his phone. “i’ve made the most perfect roadtrip playlist. filled with chrismtas music, you know... to get in the holiday mood.” he said as he snatched the aux cord to plug his phone in.

“you made a playlist?” you said surprised. still keeping your eyes on the road, trying to navigate and not miss any of the signs.

before you could say anything else, music was blasting out of the speakers. and the familiar sound of ‘take me home, country roads’ and you groaned. “oh come on, you couldn’t come up with anything more original?” 

“you just hush and keep your eyes on the road alright? this is a road trip classic. you clearly doesn’t have proper taste to appreciate it.” he said teasingly and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“alright alright...” you said throwing one of your hands up playfully. “just remember when it’s your turn to drive, i’m will have the power over the aux cord.” 

even though you had driven to your family house before, london still confused you. having to drive everywhere would just stress you out, so you actually preferred to take the bus if you had to go anywhere. but since the drive would take 6 hours, you better rent a car.

a silence appeared in the car, expect from tom’s music playing in the background. you wouldn’t say it was awkward since you were actually focusing on going the right way but tom seemed to think differently. 

“so, we can’t just sit here silent for...” he took a pause and looked down at his watch to see the times. “for 5 more hours. so what about a car game?” 

“what kind of car game?” you asked, both intrigued and afraid of what he would suggest. “well... what better time than now to get to know each other, right? and it gives me a second to not think about your ex boyfriend until we get there.”

“so a game of truth or dare?” you turned to look at him for a second, “you want to play truth or dare? what are we, fifteen?” you teased but playing a game would the trip go by faster. and you wouldn’t mind that. “okay, game on.”

“y/n, truth or dare?” every time you had ever played it, you avoided dare like the plague and you would keep doing that. “truth.” you said, leaning back slightly in your seat. 

he rolled his eyes to your reply but you didn’t see it as you kept on looking forward. “what is the most embarrassing thing your parents have caught you doing?” as you heard his question you felt your cheeks heat up. a bright red color appearing on your cheek.

you wouldn’t consider yourself as a prude but you liked to keep things private. maybe telling some friends about things, but it had to be real good friends. “oh come on, spit it out!” tom had clearly noticed the blush on your cheeks. and he got extremely curious.

“no i don-” you started but he quickly cut you off. “don’t try to get away. you gotta tell, that’s the rules of the game.” tom had now turned his body to be able to look at you properly, not wanting to miss a single second.

without looking at him, you sighed. “well you know... you’re young and you live at home and parents walking in without knocking.” tom could guess were things were going but he wanted to hear you say it.

you told yourself that it probably had happened a lot and it wasn’t that awkward. but every time you thought about it you could feel the awkwardness wash all over you.

“keep going.” he said and you glanced over at him with pleading eyes. but he wouldn’t let you off the hook. “well they walked in while i... masturbated.” now it was out there and you felt like sinking through your seat. and for a second it was quiet before you heard a laugh coming from tom.

“don’t laugh at me, it was horrible!” you yelled back at him but the laughter didn’t stop. “it is funny! and just to imagine you in that situation. you always act like your some boring and stiff good girl. but now the truth comes out.” tom teased, very amused about what you had just told him. 

“i don’t act like that! i’m very chill.” you said with a straight face but then you thought about it. planning and making things perfect was very important to you. and for the last 8 months that you had been dating jack, you tried to present yourself as wife material. you always dressed nice, acted proper and did everything. because you thought that jack would end up proposing to you.

for years you had been searching for something stable. something that you could count on. and jack had given you those vibes, probably because he was already married and had kids. 

but in the end, nothing came out of it. and now you had hired yourself a fake boyfriend. what a life upgrade. 

“oh shut up. if you tell anyone i’m gonna murder you.” clearly it was a joke but you might consider murdering him it if you found out he had told anyone. “now it’s your turn! then we’ll see how much fun you’re gonna have. truth or dare, tom?” 

you tapped your fingertips against the steering wheel as you waited for him to answer. “i’ll follow the theme and go with truth too.” now you had to think it through because you had to make him spill something juicy. 

“when was your last relationship and why did it end?” you wasn’t sure he would actually say something since he seemed like the casual sex kind of guy. well that was what you had gathered from the screams that came from his apartment. and it seemed to be different girls every time, judging by the screams.

“oh i don’t know...” you turned to look at him as he ran his fingers through his curls. “i don’t think that i have ever had something that would count as a relationship. i’ll be with someone for like 3 months and then we move on.”

as you thought, he wasn’t exactly the relationship kind of guy. “so you have never dated anyone for longer than 3 months?” you had a hard time grasping that idea. why would you see someone for that long if you didn’t want it to become serious? “no not really.” now he was the one who kept his eyes on the road. 

–––––– ☁️ ––––––

when you had done half of your trip, you decided to stop for some lunch. so you found a mcdonalds and parked the car. as you had got your food, both of you sat down to eat.

“so truth or dare?” tom asked again. you had done a couple more questions before you had started talking about something else. and you were starting to warm up to the idea to go for a dare. and you wanted to show him you weren’t some stuck up girl who couldn’t have fun.

“dare.” tom was surprised by your choice. but his smug smile appeared on his lips once again. which showed that he had a dear in mind. 

“when we get there you have to have some girl talk with your sister... and tell her just how good i please you in bed.” oh he was a cheeky bastard like that. it wasn’t like it was a weird thing to say about your boyfriend to your sister, but he was your fake boyfriend. 

“you’re kidding right? i can’t tell her that. because you know what, she will tell my brother too.” your family was very good with sharing details, they literally had no shame when it came to stuff like that. 

“so?” he said before putting some more fried in his mouth. you grunted because you knew you had to do it at some point. you couldn’t get out of now that you chose dare willingly... you hoped that maybe he would forget about it and you could let it slip.

but now there were only a couple of hours before you were back at your childhood home..

to be continued... 

please leave feedback or just come talk to me!

taglist:  @carry-on-ms-believer, @beardsplittler

[winsister91]

Breaking A Promise

Part Four - Consequences

Summary: Sam is waiting for Y/N when she reaches the Bunker. Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Canon typical violence, talk of house fires, death, themes of addiction Word Count: 2200~

A/N:  Writing angst is fun. Should I be worried? Thank you to everyone supporting this series, its become my baby. Remember when I said this was gonna be a mini series? HA! Thanks @sofreddie for looking over for me

Series Masterlist Full Masterlist

~ Series and forever tags are open! ~

(italics are flashbacks)

Slamming your foot down on the gas pedal, you wind down the window and relax in the breeze. You felt good. Damn good. Your body was tingling with adrenaline, your head light but in control, it was the best high. Harper never let you experience this freedom, she'd give you the high but then confine you, iron shackles preventing you from fighting back and releasing the energy while she began her 'teachings'. You scoff a laugh to yourself. You'd dealt with her now though. Freedom all the way, and it felt better than ever.

You pull up at the junction leading out of town. The lights were red and it was halting your happy buzz. With a smirk, you point your hand in the shape of a gun at the signals.

“Pow!” you mock fire, eyes shining that encapsulating purple gleam. They switch instantly to green, skipping the yellow light, and you merrily continue on your way.

You weren't sure where you were going. You just needed to get away from there. The bunker wasn't too far, you decide to go back there and conduct your spell in the comfort of home. You switch on the car stereo, cranking the volume to max.

Your phone buzzes in the seat next to you, but you don't hear it. You're too busy singing along to Queen's 'We are the Champions'. After the call cuts to voicemail, a second buzz. A text.

Where are you? I'm at the bunker. Sam.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“Y/N?” Sam approached cautiously, “Talk to me. I heard you and Dean shouting?”

“He's such a jerk!” you snapped. You were slumped on the bunker's desk practically hugging a beer, “He said I can't go on the hunt with you guys tomorrow...”

“Well Y/N...” Sam sat next to you, “It's demons.”

“What of it?” you grumbled, “Can I not be trusted?”

“It's not that at all,” he reassured, taking a seat next to you, “Look, you've been with us nearly six months now? And you've been doing great, more than great-”

“Get to the point Sammy boy,” you narrowed your eyes in warning.

“B-but... c'mon Y/N you know why we both have reservations with you coming along this time.”

“I've told you both before, it wasn't raw demon blood that Harper was shoving down my throat. She fiddled with it, did some enchantment or something. I don't know.”

“I know, but it's still a risk. It took Dean a long time before he was comfortable having me with him fighting demons.”

You slumped again. You understood really, but you wanted to go along to prove to yourself that you were over this blood thing. You didn't need it. Your shooting was getting better thanks to Dean's instruction. You were great at researching and absorbing all the law. The little magic trick here and there wasn't hurting. Silly little things like 'encouraging' the water in the showers to warm up faster. Grabbing a beer from the fridge without having to physically get up. Nothing you needed the blood for. Because you didn't need it. You really didn't. But...that 'want' was still there, deep down, taunting you in quiet moments when you were alone.

“Sammy...” you eventually lifted your head back up and looked him straight in the eyes, “Does it ever go away?”

“What?” he leant back in his chair.

“The...the hunger?” you gave a slight shrug, “I know I don't need it, but I want it. It's always there bugging the hell out of me.”

“It...gets better,” Sam looked up in thought, “It's been years for me, so it's not constant. But I'd be lying if I said it was gone completely.”

“And you've never given in?”

“No. There's been desperate times where I've considered it, but it's people like Dean and Cas that help me through it.”

You twirled the top of your beer bottle between your fingers, processing.

“I dunno if I'm strong enough to be like you...” you eventually admit.

“Y/N,” Sam leant forward and placed his arms on your shoulders, “You are. We'll get you through it. After all, you're family now.”

“Thank you,” you blushed and smiled, “Would you mind passing that memo on to your brother?”

“Dean does care,” Sam chuckled, “He just has a funny way of showing it sometimes. Trust me.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Sam's words echoed in your ear as you pulled up to the bunker. “We'll get you through it.” Slowing to a crawl your heart sank when you saw the Impala parked also. Sam leaning on it in waiting. “After all, you're family now.” Your heart sinks. A sickening feeling spreading from your guts you almost had to gasp.

“Shit...” you whisper to yourself. Taking deep breaths as you shut off the music, pull to a stop and wind the window down. You ready a cheery smile, “Hey Sammy!”

“Hey Y/N?” he smirked with folded arms, “Where you been?”

“Um,” you think of an excuse, “Just went for some supplies, ran out of beer!”

“So...” Sam leans, looking in at the empty rear seats, “Where're the supplies?”

You sigh heavily, hastily thinking of a change of subject, “Any news on Dean?”

Sam shakes his head and shrugs, “I'm working on it. You coming inside or what?”

“Right!” you mumble, pulling the car around and into park. You grab your backpack from the passenger seat. The sickness in your guts intensifying, making you clench your eyes.

You and Sam step inside. He's quiet. It unnerves you. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Sam heads for the kitchen. You head to Dean and yours old room. You needed more of his stuff. You take all the photos remaining from the mirror, sliding them into the same pocket as the one you took originally. You grab some of his shirts, some of his tapes and his aftershave. The more items of his you could grab, that were light and easy to move quickly, the better. Your heart beating anxiously, you try to hastily leave before Sam could realise you were gone. To your discontent, Sam was already stationed back in the main room, watching something on the laptop screen he stood before.

“Hey get this,” he said calmly, “You seen the news?”

“News?” you gulp, tentatively stepping forward.

“Yeah, come take a look.”

You continue towards the Winchester. You can hear a female news anchor.

“It is believed the fire was started in the one buildings and it has spread to the neighboring properties,” a blonde woman sat a desk announces solemnly, “We have Shannon Kelly reporting at the scene.”

The camera cuts to what you can only describe as a fiery massacre. You swallow again, stomach dropping at the sight of the street you were on a mere hour or so ago.

“At least nine bodies have been found in the house of the original fire,” a brunette reporter speaks in front of the still burning blaze, “Three more from one of the neighboring homes, one being a small infant. Thankfully the family of the other home were out at the time of the incident. Firefighters are still working at the scene to prevent the fire spreading any further, but they have commented that the flames are unusually ferocious and intense as what would normally be encountered at a domestic fire incident.”

You can feel your eyes stinging. Your breath staggered. You'd done this. Caused this chaos in your little revenge mission. No. Your rescue mission to find Dean. Innocent lives had been lost. A child's life too. You were now a murderer.

“That's your hometown, right?” you hear Sam's voice behind you, he sounded dark. The news report continued to taunt you, but most of what was being said became a low hum to you.

“S-Sammy...” you stutter, jaw trembling, unable to turn around and look at him, “I-”

“Isn't that the coven's house?” he sounded almost scary, his voice low and calm but seething with anger at the same time.

“Sammy please...” you clamp your eyes shut to try and prevent any tears escaping. You're fists clench and shake at your sides.

“You went back didn’t you!? Got yourself a damn fix!” he shouts, you can hear him stepping closer to you, “After you promised as well!.”

He was directly behind you now. You hear the sound of metal jingling. Shackles. He was going to lock you up and detox you. You couldn't let that happen. Sam was never going to find Dean at this rate. You needed to do this. You needed to find him. You needed the blood.

No...

You see the furniture around you shine purple as they reflect your eyes. Before the cold metal could come into contact with your skin, your body emanates a shock-wave like back at the coven house. Sam is flung back by its energy and collides into the wall behind.

“I'm sorry Sammy,” you weep, making a run for the stairs.

“Y/N!” Sam bellows as he gets to his feet to pursue you.

“Don't!” you plead, raising a hand before you. Sam is pushed back against the wall and held there, choking for air.

“You've gotta stop before it changes you,” he chokes out while grasping for his throat, “Before more people get hurt!”

“That was an accident Sammy, I just got a little carried away!” you plead, tears full flowing down your cheek, “It's just a means to an end. I need it to find Dean.”

“You don't, we can find him together!”

“This way...I find him sooner.”

Holding the young Winchester in place, you head back up the stairs quickly. You run outside to your car and speed away before you let the spell go. You could sense he was still alive, but hurt.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“Please,” you laughed at the boys while you sat at the bunker table tucking into take-out noodles, “You guys know I have the potential to destroy you both. I will fight for that last piece of pie.”

You point a finger at Dean's whiskey bottle next to him. Squinting your eyes and concentrating hard, you will the bottle to lift in the air slightly and glide its way into your waiting palm.

“You sure you want to take me?” you chuckled jokingly.

“Never,” Dean laughed slightly wide-eyed, “Look, Y/N...”

“Yes, 'Sweetums'” you winked sarcastically as you poured some of the liquor into a glass.

“Me and Sammy have known you, what? Two years now?”

“One year since I 'really' got to know you though Dean,” you blew him a small kiss, making Dean shake his head with a titter.

“Can we not do that when I'm in the room please?” Sam raised his hand to bring attention to his presence, “Gotta say though, one year is quite an achievement for Dean.”

“'Back' to the topic at hand,” Dean gritted his teeth at his brother, “There's just...something that bothers me. Me 'and' Sammy really.”

“What?” you shot a nervous look at them both.

“The tricks,” Dean stated, “The little 'light a candle' or 'make something float' things you do from time to time.”

“What?” you sat back in surprise, “But they're harmless. You guys do summoning magic and stuff all the time!”

“This is different though,” Sam stepped in and leaned forward on the desk.

“Right,” Dean agreed, “You doing this stuff, it's like you're not letting go of all that.”

“Like you miss it,” Sam concluded.

“You think I miss sitting in a damn cell and getting doped up on demon blood?” you scoffed.

“Well no. That's exactly the point,” Sam expanded, “You need to let go of it all and move on. These little spells and such, you trained for them. They're not something me or Dean could do.”

“Yeah but...” you tried to argue back, but seeing their faces so sincere, you couldn't help letting them continue to win you around.

“So the fact you do them means you haven't moved on,” Dean said before grabbing your hand, “You need too. I can't stand the thought of losing to you to all that one day.”

“Dean I'd never...” you gripped his hand tight, before losing your words.

“You don't need them. You're a hunter, not a Witch,” Sam smiled honestly.

“O-okay,” you were stunned and taken aback by how concerned they were. You realised this is what it was like to be part of a family that honestly cared. They wanted you to stop. So you'd stop, “No more magic.”

“Promise?” Dean looked you deep in the eyes, slightly narrowing his green gems in mock suspicion.

“Promise,” you smiled.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

You drive. That persistent feeling of sickness was consuming your whole body now. You needed to get away. Drive and keep driving. Soon enough you were speeding down a now dark highway, your hands still gripped tight on the steering wheel and the cold sweat on your brow twinkled in the bright street lights. The stereo was silent, the only noise coming from the purring engine as you drove. Your eyes flit back to your backpack. You thought about the countless bottles inside.

I need them to save Dean...

You thought about your confrontation with Harper.

They helped me kill Harper too...

The fire...

All those people I killed...

Sammy...

...and I hurt Sammy...

You spot a motel coming up, you decide you should try and rest up for the evening. Then you can decide what to do next.

Have I made a mistake?

Tags! Crossed out means I can’t tag you Forevers Posse: @sofreddie @chelsea072498 @ria132love @untitled39887 @chicagolove88 @akshi8278 @sis-tafics @younoeatcheeseyounobefat @mandilion76 @teamfreewill92 @supernaturalmagicfolk @emoryhemsworth @musicistobeheard-blog @pheonyxstorm @mrswhozeewhatsis @turnttover @itspronouncedsatanbitch @the--real-wombat 

Breaking A Promise Squad: @arikas5744 @lessons-of-red @spnaddict11283

[halfblood-fiend]

My First Words- The Cringe Poetry Era

Because of thesecondsealwrite’s amazing posts about her past writing, and her second Tumblr anniversary celebration, I decided to join in on the fun. I will impart on you some of my first words over the course of these 10 days and you can see the completely awful and totally terrible journey to becoming the writer I am today.

Now, I am notorious for keeping everything ever and that is doubly so for my stories. The problem, though? This time last year my family was supposed to have moved and apparently I was the only one who got the memo. So all my stuff is packed away and locked in storage. So I’m pretty sure that’s where all the old stuff is, I’m talkin’ the shameless self-inserts, the copious Mary-Sues, the cringiest of cringe poetry, the erotic to a 13-year-old Halo/Eragon/Chronicles of Riddick/Harry Potter crossovers, and the literal mountains of fanfiction about Snape, sometimes with students (yes...I am very guilty of that, hang me please).

However, I did manage to scrounge up some stuff from a journal that didn’t get packed because it’s still a quarter blank and, for some reason, I seem to always intend to keep diaries the way I used to back in my middle school/early high school days.

I deliberated for a while about how to post them. I wondered if I should post scans or if I should write my own modern commentary all over said scans but I settled for simply typing them exactly as they are, sloppy grammar and shitty spelling intact. If anyone wants to see the scans, I will post them because you really miss out on a whole hot mess of awful doodles and chicken scratches as well as the worst formatting bs you’ve ever seen (probably).

So, I placed it under a read more because I don’t think anyone wants a whiny 12-year-old on their dash, but the following is me, and my very 12-year-old problems, totally unedited.

Bullshit

Why should I care? Give me a reason and I might stay. Stay friends? Ha! Don't you remember? It was you who dumpped me. So why are you asking my forgivnes? It should be me, shouldn't it? But stop, listen. Do you hear me begging? No. Because I'm fed up. Tired of the bullshit. Sick of the same Goddamned scene. Aquatences, pehaps. But never again friends.

You’re smoking something if you thought I wasn’t gonna have commentary on this shit...

Okay so, god awful spelling, worse content. Yet SOMEHOW I remember that nearly every single poem I wrote around this time period was about/related to/because of boys. Gotta love those middle school hormones. I really don’t know whether to laugh or cry but, it get’s better...

Lonley Valentine

Another Valentine's day Come and gone. Yet another hopeless year. I've never had a Valentine. Never in my life. Unless you count my parents; this thought gives me much strife. I've only five boyfriends And they never last too long. Theres always someone else they like more because apparenly I'm wrong. Most people would label me a loner. to whitch I'm pretty sure they're right. 'Cause I've never had a Valentine and I suck it up with all my might I hear that people say that to love another one must first love themelves. This is what I say to them, "Shut up you mother fucker!"

"Shut up you mother fucker!” Aaaaaand she sticks the landing!

Look my least favorite part about this trainwreck is the very forced lines and hence rhyming? Other than that, I hate all of it. I also just LOVE how 12-year-old Madison thought life revolved around Valentine’s Day and like...having somebody. I guess that even modern Madison feels that way since most of my content is thinly veiled romance. I guess some things never change.

I’d also like to adress that “only five boyfriends” part because it sticks out in my mind... I’m pretty sure that at this middle school age, I’m even counting those “relationships” that were like, “Joey held my hand one time at recess” or something because I can tell you right now FIVE is...not true? Not even remotely accurate? I also love the “ONLY five boyfriends” part as if it was some kind of competition and even with five I was losing... badly, as my beautiful poem illustrates.

Untitled

Help me out. Out of my never ending pit. Help me someone. I'm falling to abiss; please someone.   What does it matter? Like the useless raindrops that patter I'm no longer there. No longer where?   People ignore me falling to black. Help me please Throw me a rope, lend me a hand   I realize theres no turning back, Nothing but black. I'm falling to oblivion, no longer real I wish I was as invisible as you make me feel   Falling faster. No way back, only down. No one to pull me up Just falling; just nothingness.   When I snag on a branch, it breaks Then falling again faster, faster.   Lonesome death only. Nobody. No turning back. Just fading to black.

Now, I did NOT read the journal entry that “went” with this poem because my brain literally could not handle it, so I don’t know what context all this blackness is in. Pretty sure it’s just a metaphor for my life, or, judging by previous content, I had a crush on some dude that looked at me for a whole five seconds one time in science class and then it turned out that he didn’t like like me.

ALSO! WARNING! Past Madison did this awful thing where she liked to incorporate her favorite lyrics into her own poetry and give no credit whatsoever. In fact, sometimes she even claimed they were hers. She just...took em. I honestly couldn’t tell you why. I die a little every time I see that shit. So, if you didn’t catch it, the line “I wish I was as invisible as you make me feel” belongs to Fall Out Boy and their song The Pros and Cons of Breathing. Thanks guys, tell your writers they did well capturing the spirit middle school angst.

You know...in that packed box of papers there is an entire typed, printed, and bound copy of every poem I ever wrote in middle school. I titled it “Emo Chronicles” and actually turned that shit in for a school project and got compliments AND a grade for it (Yikes!!). And I’m sorta glad that all I could find were these three poems for two reasons A) I don’t think I could have handled reading an entire volume of this type of thing and B) I would have probably picked out the ones I was still sorta proud of, so here you go. There is no bias here, whatsoever.

I just wish I could go back in time and give this poor confused girl a cookie and a hug. Maybe not the cookie, actually, because this sad girl was constantly destroyed by her mother over her weight with merciless precision. Still, she could use a hug and I would tell her, “Boys are stupid and are a huge waste of time, bro.” Then I’d walk into the sunset. And then this girl would go home and write some poetry about it. She’d probably think it was very deep and existential.

I actually continued to write poetry well into high school but it petered off around my Junior year and I haven’t touched it since. Honestly, because of all this mess, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I know that all this crap is a literal skeleton in my closet and I almost feel like I never want to open that door ever again.

So if you read this far, THANK YOU for not unfollowing and blocking me instantly! Lmao. Yeah, it’s bad, but the only way to get good is to slog through some utter shit and I really think that this era of my writing career is my utter shit (yes, I even believe that insane crossover is better than this).

[minditruitt]

Misunderstanding the Misconception of Miscommunication

They say you continue to learn until the day you die. That may be true with regard to some things but miscommunication has been around since the beginning of time and most likely won’t end.

We have many ways of communicating with each other....speaking and writing are the two major ways along with sign language. The rest of them vary depending on who’s doing the communicating.....

Emails, and before that, ‘snail mail’ as we now call it....slang, texts, slang texts (lol), the correct form of punctuation, various hand gestures....including the one we sometimes use from the window of our cars, memos at work, jokes, letters, cards and most importantly touch are used daily. A pat on the back, a shoulder massage from someone special during a time of stress, a kiss or a slap across the face which I hope very few people have experienced but I’m afraid that’s not the case....are all ways of communicating.

When I was a child, in the glorious days of 70′s flower power, we thought we had it going on when we would speak “pig-latin” and no one over the age of 12 understood us. In the 5th grade my best friend and I taught ourselves sign language to get around the rule of ‘no talking at lunch’ which happened a lot. I guess a room full of children gave our teachers a collective headache because for some reason they had a teachers table and not a lounge they could escape to. They would hold up one finger or two and if it got to three we all had to shut up immediately.  We got in trouble anyway for the sign language, my friend and I, because we broke the rule of no talking...wait...what? We weren’t talking, we were ‘communicating’.

Isn’t that different?

Apparently we had a misconception of what Mrs. whatever-her-name-was meant. We were pretty impressed that we were helping the collective headaches of our teachers and still able to discuss who the cutest boy was at the table was.

WRONG.....

We got in trouble anyway. So that meant that she misunderstood what we intended by teaching ourselves a primitive version of sign language by thinking we were breaking her rule while we thought we were doing her a favor.....Misconception.

There is nothing worse than a text but I’m someone that uses it frequently. But I know what kind of mood I’m in when I send one. The person on the other end of  doesn’t....although most people who know me know that I am very rarely angry. As a matter of fact I tend to NOT be angry when I should be. Or that’s what my father often told me...

I use emoticons a lot to help with the intention of my communication. Over the last few years I had misunderstandings with a couple of people.

One in particular.

But....

My emotions were all over the place with both of them. and the more I tried to explain what I was thinking it made things worse. I started to put “the tone of this email (or whatever) is....” I would put sad, or confused or happy....to help this person understand that I was not angry as they thought I was but actually conciliatory and caring in what I was saying. With the other one I was trying to be overly accommodating. This even sounds confusing to me as I write it because it seems exhausting and so ludicrous but at the time I felt like I was not explaining the way I was feeling very well and they were misunderstanding me, my meaning and my intention. They thought I was pushy and aggressive when actually I was feeling confused, abandoned and frightened. Those two concepts are almost polar opposites but they were misconstrued into a completely different scenario than the intention. Confused? Yeah...me too. lol (slang-text)

Back in the dark ages of the pre-internet days when we all wrote things down either on pieces of paper, letter head or fancy notecards with our monograms....we could (and did) use various handwriting skills no longer taught. I remember watching my mother write in cursive when I was young and being so excited to learn it in school. In my teenage years I embellished my writing with grand flourishes. A sign of a true Leo, I’m sure.

I’m still a little dramatic....ok, a lot. :-)

Yes.....I used the little circle over my ‘ i’s ‘. I was one of those.....

Handwriting could tell a lot about someone and there were even handwriting experts to decipher the tone or intention and actually would compare styles of different writings to see if possibly they came from the same person.

My handwriting would slant. Sometimes in two different directions in the same paragraph. My teacher said it was caused by the fact that I was actually left handed but was forced to use my right hand when I was younger. Interesting concept. I just thought it was because my brain raced faster than my hand and that was why my handwriting differed a lot. My mood also influenced my handwriting style. I could tell when I would go back and re-read a journal entry or something that my words were slanting all over the place or neatly slanted to the same side. Maybe I was rushing or maybe I was either happy or hurt. At any rate, it’s interesting....

Using different languages can also add to misunderstandings. I was born in Germany and had a pretty regular sitter that was a wonderful German lady we still communicate with. She taught me a lot of German and when I came to the United States at almost 2 years old for the very first time my grandmother said...’oh my goodness, teach this child some English’. Which was silly because my parents were American and I was an early version of a military brat.

At several points in my life I studied German and despite “pronoun hell” I could speak better and understand a little more than I used to. My husband at the time took me to Munich for our 10th anniversary after a business trip to Switzerland and we went to non touristy places so he could hear me communicate in German. It was exhausting but fun. I am to this day jealous of people who are bilingual and like to watch them switch languages in mid speech. I find it fascinating.

When we lived in Greece for two years I learned a little Greek but sadly the only thing that I remember now is the ability to order a half a watermelon and the words to their national anthem.  

Writing and speaking, different languages and all forms of communication appeal to me even though sometimes I’m not able to get my point across well because of an inability to relate to people who are smarter than I am. Which includes the vast majority of folks..... 

So I guess despite all the ways we can communicate with each other the best way is still face to face in conversation which sadly is becoming a bit of a lost art.

It, I think, can make some people uncomfortable because you can’t hide behind words and your entire persona is put on display when speaking directly to someone but at least you can read the body language and facial expressions of either happiness or exasperation of the person you're talking to. The only other option is the phone which can also not work as well because 90% of us are doing something else while talking...especially with ‘speaker phone’ option. I’m even driving and talking hands free, sometimes, and lord knows when you do that you’re communicating with dozens of people all at once through blinkers, brake lights and sometimes hand salutes. This is distracting to the person with whom you’re actually on the phone with because they are now involved with your traffic issues too whether they want to be or not.

So today, when you speak with someone whether it’s on the phone, in person, email, text, messenger, Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, sign language or one of the thousands of foreign languages be sure to either incorporate a smile or an emoticon that your intended understands....

It will make your day better and hopefully theirs.

[glenmenlow]

How Narratives Improve Ideas And Decisions

The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place. ~ George Bernard Shaw

How do Amazon’s leaders decide what to do and what not to do? How do they develop ideas and rationalize them? Much the same way they hire the best people. They use the narrative process to answer these questions and to capture and explain their ideas.

The Killer Feature: Clarity

Michael Porter, Harvard professor of strategy, has stated that “strategy is about making choices, trade-offs; it’s about deliberately choosing to be different.” By developing clarity and simplicity in what you are doing and not doing, you are improving the ideas, making deliberate decisions, and gaining shared understanding in the organization. The fundamental mistake leaders make in developing digital strategies is not seeking clarity, especially regarding the customer experience. What will delight the customer? What operational model supports this experience? What data and technology support the operational model? How will we measure?

Achieving clarity can be uncomfortable. It can disrupt. People tend to want to avoid conflict, be collaborative, and basically accept all the ideas and all the wording. This tactic does not demand the best thinking and avoids the sensitive topics in the spirit of “getting along.” A well-written narrative, on the other hand, demands rigor on exactly the right wording, compels getting to the heart of risks and sensitive topics that have to be addressed to achieve the goal, and requires straight and simple language to ensure that everyone understands the key points. A well-written narrative and the process of writing it will force teams to get beyond being polite and get to insights.

An Amazon leadership principle is to “Invent and Simplify.” Driving toward clarity of thought through a written narrative is a key operational approach to get both invention and simplification. “Almost every meeting which involves making a business decision is driven by a document,” says Llew Mason, an Amazon vice president. “One of the great things about a written document is that it drives a lot of clarity in the process.” Ah, clarity in thinking. Clarity on what you decide to do. Clarity on how the idea will affect users and the business. A longtime business partner of mine who worked with me both before and after Amazon has told me many times that what he sees me doing with my clients, which he has seen to be tremendously helpful, is that I’m always trying to simplify and clarify the communication. I learned this at Amazon.

What Is A Narrative?

At Amazon, leaders write narratives for all plans, proposals, services, and investments. PowerPoint is not used (insert applause). Much has been written about how PowerPoint dumbs down an organization or puts it at risk. In his 2017 letter to shareholders, Jeff Bezos wrote, “We don’t do PowerPoint (or any other slide-oriented) presentations at Amazon. We write narratively structured six-page memos,” Bezos continues. “We silently read one at the beginning of each meeting in a kind of ‘study hall.’ Not surprisingly, the quality of these memos varies widely. Some have the clarity of angels singing. They are brilliant and thoughtful and set up the meeting for high-quality discussion. Sometimes they come in at the other end of the spectrum.”

Narratives at Amazon are two-or six-page documents written in complete sentences. A narrative must be expressly tailored to the situation based on the topic, the timing in the initiative, and the audience. It must flow in a way that makes sense relative to the topic and audience. It is verboten to dump excessive bullet points or slides into the narrative. Data, charts, and diagrams can be included, but they must be explained in the narrative. Appendix material is also allowed. I believe that the discipline of writing out ideas is at the heart of Amazon’s innovation process and can be replicated to the same effect. As explained by Greg Satell:

At the heart of how Amazon innovates is its six-page memo, which kicks off everything the company does. Executives must write a press release, complete with hypothetical customer reactions to the product launch. That is followed by a series of FAQs, anticipating questions customers, as well as internal stakeholders, might have.

Executives at the company have stressed to me how the process forces you to think things through. You can’t gloss over problems or hide behind complexity. You actually have to work things out. All of this happens before the first meeting. It’s a level of rigor that few other organizations even attempt, much less are able to achieve.

The Process Of A Narrative

Why do programs and projects take too long, go over budget, become bloated, and fail to deliver according to expectations? Execution and project management technique can be reasons, but the biggest root cause is failing to accurately define the end state at the beginning. Teams want to launch quickly and start designing, building, and testing. Taking the time to write a narrative will dramatically improve the definition of what needs to be done, plus make it as small and concise as possible, so it can be done faster, cheaper, and with more agility. But writing narratives takes time, so they are done when they are done. It is difficult to predict how long it will take and how much effort will be required. It is completely reasonable to create a deadline. “You have one week to write a narrative” might be appropriate.

Narratives can be written by one person, but it is often a group effort because multiple people and teams contribute to the idea. Forcing people to own the narrative jointly has huge benefits in both getting the best ideas on paper and building shared understandings and relationships through authorship. Part of Amazon’s practice on narratives is not to include the author’s name or names on the narratives. This sends the signal that the narrative is a community activity.

When the narrative is done, think through the review meetings and decision-making process. Who needs to deeply understand and agree with the narrative before a decision is made? Who are the key decision makers? At Amazon, review meetings tend to be 60 minutes long. They start with 10 to 15 minutes of silence to deeply read or “grok” the proposal and vision. This is followed by a discussion debating the merits, options, appropriate next steps, and decisions.

The process of authoring, reviewing, and deciding must be carefully considered. It must be rigorous. It must take time and effort. It is done when it’s done. What do narrative writers do wrong? They don’t spend enough time on their writing. As Bezos wrote: “They mistakenly believe a high-standards, six-page memo can be written in one or two days or even a few hours, when really it might take a week or more! . . . The great memos are written and re-written, shared with colleagues who are asked to improve the work, set aside for a couple of days, and then edited again with a fresh mind. . . . The key point here is that you can improve results through the simple act of teaching scope—that a great memo probably should take a week or more.”

The Structure Of A Narrative

A narrative must be constructed of complete thoughts, complete paragraphs, complete sentences. You may include charts, numbers, and diagrams, but those items must be explained in the narrative. Other than that, there are no rules on structure, and the structure the authors choose will depend on the topic, the timing in the discussion cycle, and the audience.

The first sections of the narrative are typically customer focused. “Who are the customers? What benefits are we bringing them? What problems are we solving for them? Why would this idea delight them?” Sections after that might include what the customer experience would be, dependencies or requirements, metrics to measure success, business case, and key risks.

A Sample Narrative

By now you hopefully understand the importance of writing ideas out completely and clearly. For your projects, investments, strategies, and executive topics, ditch the PowerPoint presentations, and force teams to put their ideas and plans in writing. Meetings start with 10 to 15 minutes of silence to read the narrative. Phones and computers are left outside. Then debate the merits of the narrative. Don’t be afraid either to ask that the narrative be improved or to write a follow-up related narrative.

Make no mistake. Creating narratives takes skill, experience, commitment, and patience. You can’t rush great narratives because you can’t rush great thinking and communications. It takes practice. Writing is less an artistic exercise and more a practiced skill. It’s less of a spontaneous combustion and more of a methodical construction—like building and rebuilding the perfect birdhouse. Do you have the discipline and commitment to write in plain English your most important ideas and proposals?

Other executives and big companies are recognizing how writing as a forcing function to create clarity is key to innovation. JPMorgan Chase, whom I have had a chance to talk to about many of these ideas, is using narratives as one of the ways to try to be literary, more like Amazon. “Mr. Bezos notoriously banned slide presentations to keep Amazon in startup mode as it grew, instead asking employees to craft six-page documents complete with a press release and FAQs. Over roughly the past 18 months, JPMorgan has started a similar practice in its consumer businesses under Gordon Smith, the bank’s co-president and co-chief operating officer.” Are you able and willing to commit to hard habits like writing narratives to change culture, speed, tempo, and innovation?

Writing ideas and proposals in complete narratives results in better ideas, more clarity on the ideas, and better conversation on the ideas. You will make better decisions about what to do and how to do it. The initiatives will be smaller and less risky. Writing narratives is hard, takes a long time, and is an acquired skill for the organization. High standards and an appreciation for building this capability over time are required.

Questions To Consider

1. Do your ideas and plans suffer from incomplete thought? 2. Do your projects get bloated with size and unnecessary complexity? 3. Do your executives understand and influence the details of a proposal sufficiently to make a well-informed decision?

Contributed to Branding Strategy Insider by: John Rossman. Excerpted from his book, Think Like Amazon, 50 1/2 Ideas To Become A Digital Leader (McGraw-Hill)

At The Blake Project we are helping clients from around the world, in all stages of development, redefine and articulate what makes them competitive at critical moments of change through online strategy workshops. Please email us for more.

Branding Strategy Insider is a service of The Blake Project: A strategic brand consultancy specializing in Brand Research, Brand Strategy, Brand Growth and Brand Education

FREE Publications And Resources For Marketers

from WordPress https://glenmenlow.wordpress.com/2020/04/09/how-narratives-improve-ideas-and-decisions/ via IFTTT

[joejstrickl]

How Narratives Improve Ideas And Decisions

The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place. ~ George Bernard Shaw

How do Amazon’s leaders decide what to do and what not to do? How do they develop ideas and rationalize them? Much the same way they hire the best people. They use the narrative process to answer these questions and to capture and explain their ideas.

The Killer Feature: Clarity

Michael Porter, Harvard professor of strategy, has stated that “strategy is about making choices, trade-offs; it’s about deliberately choosing to be different.” By developing clarity and simplicity in what you are doing and not doing, you are improving the ideas, making deliberate decisions, and gaining shared understanding in the organization. The fundamental mistake leaders make in developing digital strategies is not seeking clarity, especially regarding the customer experience. What will delight the customer? What operational model supports this experience? What data and technology support the operational model? How will we measure?

Achieving clarity can be uncomfortable. It can disrupt. People tend to want to avoid conflict, be collaborative, and basically accept all the ideas and all the wording. This tactic does not demand the best thinking and avoids the sensitive topics in the spirit of “getting along.” A well-written narrative, on the other hand, demands rigor on exactly the right wording, compels getting to the heart of risks and sensitive topics that have to be addressed to achieve the goal, and requires straight and simple language to ensure that everyone understands the key points. A well-written narrative and the process of writing it will force teams to get beyond being polite and get to insights.

An Amazon leadership principle is to “Invent and Simplify.” Driving toward clarity of thought through a written narrative is a key operational approach to get both invention and simplification. “Almost every meeting which involves making a business decision is driven by a document,” says Llew Mason, an Amazon vice president. “One of the great things about a written document is that it drives a lot of clarity in the process.” Ah, clarity in thinking. Clarity on what you decide to do. Clarity on how the idea will affect users and the business. A longtime business partner of mine who worked with me both before and after Amazon has told me many times that what he sees me doing with my clients, which he has seen to be tremendously helpful, is that I’m always trying to simplify and clarify the communication. I learned this at Amazon.

What Is A Narrative?

At Amazon, leaders write narratives for all plans, proposals, services, and investments. PowerPoint is not used (insert applause). Much has been written about how PowerPoint dumbs down an organization or puts it at risk. In his 2017 letter to shareholders, Jeff Bezos wrote, “We don’t do PowerPoint (or any other slide-oriented) presentations at Amazon. We write narratively structured six-page memos,” Bezos continues. “We silently read one at the beginning of each meeting in a kind of ‘study hall.’ Not surprisingly, the quality of these memos varies widely. Some have the clarity of angels singing. They are brilliant and thoughtful and set up the meeting for high-quality discussion. Sometimes they come in at the other end of the spectrum.”

Narratives at Amazon are two-or six-page documents written in complete sentences. A narrative must be expressly tailored to the situation based on the topic, the timing in the initiative, and the audience. It must flow in a way that makes sense relative to the topic and audience. It is verboten to dump excessive bullet points or slides into the narrative. Data, charts, and diagrams can be included, but they must be explained in the narrative. Appendix material is also allowed. I believe that the discipline of writing out ideas is at the heart of Amazon’s innovation process and can be replicated to the same effect. As explained by Greg Satell:

At the heart of how Amazon innovates is its six-page memo, which kicks off everything the company does. Executives must write a press release, complete with hypothetical customer reactions to the product launch. That is followed by a series of FAQs, anticipating questions customers, as well as internal stakeholders, might have.

Executives at the company have stressed to me how the process forces you to think things through. You can’t gloss over problems or hide behind complexity. You actually have to work things out. All of this happens before the first meeting. It’s a level of rigor that few other organizations even attempt, much less are able to achieve.

The Process Of A Narrative

Why do programs and projects take too long, go over budget, become bloated, and fail to deliver according to expectations? Execution and project management technique can be reasons, but the biggest root cause is failing to accurately define the end state at the beginning. Teams want to launch quickly and start designing, building, and testing. Taking the time to write a narrative will dramatically improve the definition of what needs to be done, plus make it as small and concise as possible, so it can be done faster, cheaper, and with more agility. But writing narratives takes time, so they are done when they are done. It is difficult to predict how long it will take and how much effort will be required. It is completely reasonable to create a deadline. “You have one week to write a narrative” might be appropriate.

Narratives can be written by one person, but it is often a group effort because multiple people and teams contribute to the idea. Forcing people to own the narrative jointly has huge benefits in both getting the best ideas on paper and building shared understandings and relationships through authorship. Part of Amazon’s practice on narratives is not to include the author’s name or names on the narratives. This sends the signal that the narrative is a community activity.

When the narrative is done, think through the review meetings and decision-making process. Who needs to deeply understand and agree with the narrative before a decision is made? Who are the key decision makers? At Amazon, review meetings tend to be 60 minutes long. They start with 10 to 15 minutes of silence to deeply read or “grok” the proposal and vision. This is followed by a discussion debating the merits, options, appropriate next steps, and decisions.

The process of authoring, reviewing, and deciding must be carefully considered. It must be rigorous. It must take time and effort. It is done when it’s done. What do narrative writers do wrong? They don’t spend enough time on their writing. As Bezos wrote: “They mistakenly believe a high-standards, six-page memo can be written in one or two days or even a few hours, when really it might take a week or more! . . . The great memos are written and re-written, shared with colleagues who are asked to improve the work, set aside for a couple of days, and then edited again with a fresh mind. . . . The key point here is that you can improve results through the simple act of teaching scope—that a great memo probably should take a week or more.”

The Structure Of A Narrative

A narrative must be constructed of complete thoughts, complete paragraphs, complete sentences. You may include charts, numbers, and diagrams, but those items must be explained in the narrative. Other than that, there are no rules on structure, and the structure the authors choose will depend on the topic, the timing in the discussion cycle, and the audience.

The first sections of the narrative are typically customer focused. “Who are the customers? What benefits are we bringing them? What problems are we solving for them? Why would this idea delight them?” Sections after that might include what the customer experience would be, dependencies or requirements, metrics to measure success, business case, and key risks.

A Sample Narrative

By now you hopefully understand the importance of writing ideas out completely and clearly. For your projects, investments, strategies, and executive topics, ditch the PowerPoint presentations, and force teams to put their ideas and plans in writing. Meetings start with 10 to 15 minutes of silence to read the narrative. Phones and computers are left outside. Then debate the merits of the narrative. Don’t be afraid either to ask that the narrative be improved or to write a follow-up related narrative.

Make no mistake. Creating narratives takes skill, experience, commitment, and patience. You can’t rush great narratives because you can’t rush great thinking and communications. It takes practice. Writing is less an artistic exercise and more a practiced skill. It’s less of a spontaneous combustion and more of a methodical construction—like building and rebuilding the perfect birdhouse. Do you have the discipline and commitment to write in plain English your most important ideas and proposals?

Other executives and big companies are recognizing how writing as a forcing function to create clarity is key to innovation. JPMorgan Chase, whom I have had a chance to talk to about many of these ideas, is using narratives as one of the ways to try to be literary, more like Amazon. “Mr. Bezos notoriously banned slide presentations to keep Amazon in startup mode as it grew, instead asking employees to craft six-page documents complete with a press release and FAQs. Over roughly the past 18 months, JPMorgan has started a similar practice in its consumer businesses under Gordon Smith, the bank’s co-president and co-chief operating officer.” Are you able and willing to commit to hard habits like writing narratives to change culture, speed, tempo, and innovation?

Writing ideas and proposals in complete narratives results in better ideas, more clarity on the ideas, and better conversation on the ideas. You will make better decisions about what to do and how to do it. The initiatives will be smaller and less risky. Writing narratives is hard, takes a long time, and is an acquired skill for the organization. High standards and an appreciation for building this capability over time are required.

Questions To Consider

1. Do your ideas and plans suffer from incomplete thought? 2. Do your projects get bloated with size and unnecessary complexity? 3. Do your executives understand and influence the details of a proposal sufficiently to make a well-informed decision?

Contributed to Branding Strategy Insider by: John Rossman. Excerpted from his book, Think Like Amazon, 50 1/2 Ideas To Become A Digital Leader (McGraw-Hill)

At The Blake Project we are helping clients from around the world, in all stages of development, redefine and articulate what makes them competitive at critical moments of change through online strategy workshops. Please email us for more.

Branding Strategy Insider is a service of The Blake Project: A strategic brand consultancy specializing in Brand Research, Brand Strategy, Brand Growth and Brand Education

FREE Publications And Resources For Marketers

[sunshineweb]

Safal Niveshak Stream – The Powerful Effect of Compounding Goodwill

Some nice stuff I am reading, watching, and observing at the start of this weekend…

Of Greater Fools and Bubbles

How many greater fools does it take to make a bubble? An old but highly relevant post from Jason Zweig…

Economists have struggled and failed to explain why markets turn into manias. Some have denied bubbles exist; others have argued bubbles must somehow be “rational.” Often, the argument is that bubbles are caused by “uninformed” traders, or “dumb money,” while the “smart money” sits on the sidelines.

The latest findings suggest, however, that bubbles might be caused not by traders who lack information but by those who have too much.

Pessimism is Seductive

Morgan Housel of Collaborative Fund hits it again with his post on how pessimism is intellectually seductive in a way optimism only wishes it could be…

Tell someone that everything will be great and they’re likely to either shrug you off or offer a skeptical eye. Tell someone they’re in danger and you have their undivided attention.

Hearing that the world is going to hell is more interesting than forecasting that things will gradually get better over time, even if the latter is accurate for most people most of the time. Pessimism can be hard to distinguish from critical thinking and is often taken more seriously than optimism, which can be hard to distinguish from salesmanship and aloofness.

…On one hand it makes sense. Daniel Kahneman once wrote: “Organisms that treat threats as more urgent than opportunities have a better chance to survive and reproduce.”

But on the other hand, it’s crazy. We don’t just respond faster to pessimism. We coddle it for longer than is necessary. Optimism demands facts and is ditched at the first sign of trouble. Pessimism can be grown from a crazy thought and clutched indefinitely.

How to Fill Your Years with Life

If you haven’t picked Ryan wonderful book – Ego is the Enemy – do that now. In this book, he shows how ego – irrational or delusional self-belief – has long been linked with success and striving for goals yet this same drive has a dark side. Anyways, Ryan just wrote a wonderful post on things to do to live a full life and leave nothing on the table by 30. Among others, here are two of my favourites from his list…

7. Keep a Journal — Not for looking backward, but to force you to think about what you’re doing now. I should have done this earlier.

10. The Quiet Moments Are The Best — There is a line from Lao Tzu. “Peace is in the emptiness. Emptiness is in the fast of the mind.” It’s in the quiet, still moments that we feel what matters in life. Standing on the shore of a lake. Looking out over a canyon. Resting your head against someone else’s. It’s a shortage of these moments that give rise to the feeling that we haven’t lived enough, that we have to keep going. Seeking them out, encouraging them is what makes you feel like you’ve done plenty.

Ryan ends his post with a paragraph from Mozart, who lived to be 35 but filled those years with many, many decades of life and work…

I have now made a habit of being prepared in all affairs of life for the worst. As death, when we come to consider it closely, is the true goal of our existence, I have formed during the last few years such close relationships with this best and truest friend of mankind that his image is not only no longer terrifying to me but is indeed very soothing and consoling, and I thank my God for graciously granting me the opportunity of learning that death is the key which unlocks the door to our true happiness. I never lie down at night without reflecting that—young as I am—I may not live to see another day. Yet not one of all my acquaintances could say that in my company I am morose or disgruntled. For this blessing, I daily thank my creator.

Howard Marks on Market Excesses

Like Warren Buffett’s shareholder letters, Howard Marks’ memos are a must-read. In one he wrote in 2005, Marks discussed market trends being taken to excess – and the painful consequences that become clear in hindsight. Here’s an excerpt from that memo of Marks, which is highly relevant in today’s today environment…

I often cite John Kenneth Galbraith’s observation that one of the outstanding hallmarks of the financial world is “the extreme brevity of the financial memory.” Investors lose money over and over because they simply forget that cycles are inevitable and there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Now I’ve found a great quotation from Churchill, also reminding us that foresight comes largely from awareness of history.

Along similar lines, I’m struck by the extent to which a related factor, inadequate skepticism, also contributes to investment losses. Getting the most out of a book, play or movie usually requires “willing suspension of disbelief.” We’re glad to overlook the occasional plot glitch, historical inaccuracy or physical impossibility because it increases our enjoyment. When we watch Peter Pan, we don’t want to hear the person sitting next to us say, “I can see the wires” (even though we know they’re there). While we know boys can’t fly, we don’t care; we’re just there for fun.

But our purpose in investing is serious, not fun, and we must constantly be on the lookout for things that can’t work in real life. In short, the process of investing requires a strong dose of disbelief. Time and time again, the post-mortems of financial debacles include two classic phrases: “It was too good to be true” and “What were they thinking?” I’m writing to explore why these observations are so often invoked in the past tense.

How Big Oil Will Die

Electric cars with lives 3x longer than those run on the internal combustion engine are being bought in droves in the Western world. But this is just one of the factor that may spell doom for oil and the businesses that survive by producing and selling it…

Big Oil is perhaps the most feared and respected industry in history. Oil is warming the planet — cars and trucks contribute about 15% of global fossil fuels emissions — yet this fact barely dents its use. Oil fuels the most politically volatile regions in the world, yet we’ve decided to send military aid to unstable and untrustworthy dictators because their oil is critical to our own security. For the last century, oil has dominated our economics and our politics. Oil is power.

Yet I argue here that technology is about to undo a century of political and economic dominance by oil. Big Oil will be cut down in the next decade by a combination of smartphone apps, long-life batteries, and simpler gearing. And as is always the case with new technology, the undoing will occur far faster than anyone thought possible.

A Dozen Ideas from Charlie Munger

Tren Griffin of 25iq has done another wonderful post, this time on compiling a dozen thoughts from Charlie Munger from the 2017 Berkshire AGM, including this one…

“A life properly lived is just learn, learn, learn all the time.” “If we had stopped learning, you [Berkshire shareholders] wouldn’t be here – you’d be alive, probably, but you wouldn’t be here.” “There’s nothing like a personal, painful experience if we want to learn, and we certainly have had our share of it.” “There’s nothing like the pain of getting into a lousy business to find a good one.” “We were young and ignorant then; Now we’re old and ignorant.” “Experience is like eating cockleburs – it really gets your attention.” “It is a good idea to not play where the other people are better.”

Genius of Jeff Bezos

Sean Iddings has written a nice post tracking the genius of Amazon’s founder Jeff Bezos…

Jeff Bezos was able to see differently than nearly everybody else in the early 2000’s, and continues today, largely in part to his fanatical preparation.

In Jeff Bezos’ biography The Everything Store: Jeff Bezos and the Age of Amazon, childhood friend Joshua Weinstein recalled, “He was excruciatingly focused. Not like mad-scientist focused, but he was capable of really focusing, in a crazy way, on certain things. He was extremely disciplined, which is how he is able to do all these things.” Part of that focus and discipline was vacuuming up details from history. This vast storehouse of details has given Bezos the ability to frame his present situation with the best historical examples. In other words, by looking at the past he has been able to throw out all of the useless noise and draw accurate conclusions to how the future might unfold based on the past.

This phenomenon is perfectly observed in 2003 and is repeating again today.

Keep in Touch with People

Be the butterfly whose wings can create a positive hurricane in someone’s life. A lovely post from my friend Vishal Kataria…

Don’t just keep in touch with people who matter because they can give something. Keep in touch because sometimes, you will give something… something that nobody else can offer. Be there for them. Your friends will thank life for sending a friend like you. Your butterfly wings can create a positive hurricane in their lives.

I’m guilty of not keeping in touch with people who care. Just because. It took a memory to make me realize how selfish I am. It’s not always about me. In fact, it almost never should be about me. I will step out of my comfort zone. I will keep in touch. I will ask people if I can do something for them. Will you?

Compounding Goodwill

Einstein said, “Compound interest is the eighth wonder.” If you understand the basics of compounding, you would tend to agree with Einstein’s statement. There is immense power in compounding. A small amount of money left for compounding for a very long time, even at a modest rate, can turn into a staggering sum.

But what most people miss is that the real beauty of compounding lies not in wealth creation, but in another, more important, area of life too. It’s called goodwill that you create in this world.

In his book, Education of a Value Investor, Guy Spier writes about Mohnish Pabrai …

…over the past ten years, I’ve repeatedly observed how he looks to see what he can do for others, not the other way round…By acting this way, I could see that Mohnish created an incredible network of people who wish him well and would love to find ways to help him and thank him for his kindness. This is the extraordinarily powerful effect of compounding goodwill by being a giver, not a taker. And as he has taught me, the paradox is that you end up receiving infinitely more in life by giving than by taking.

True gifts bring people closer together. An unconditional gift, one given with nothing expected in return, can change everything. It creates conversations and spread ideas. It opens doors and creates forward motion.

So, what value are you adding to the world? What is it that you’re giving out without any expectation of returns?

As with all matters of compounding, the sooner you start the longer runway you’ll get.

Start today!

The post Safal Niveshak Stream – The Powerful Effect of Compounding Goodwill appeared first on Safal Niveshak.

Safal Niveshak Stream – The Powerful Effect of Compounding Goodwill published first on http://ift.tt/2sCRXMW

[heliosfinance]

Safal Niveshak Stream – The Powerful Effect of Compounding Goodwill

Some nice stuff I am reading, watching, and observing at the start of this weekend…

Of Greater Fools and Bubbles

How many greater fools does it take to make a bubble? An old but highly relevant post from Jason Zweig…

Economists have struggled and failed to explain why markets turn into manias. Some have denied bubbles exist; others have argued bubbles must somehow be “rational.” Often, the argument is that bubbles are caused by “uninformed” traders, or “dumb money,” while the “smart money” sits on the sidelines.

The latest findings suggest, however, that bubbles might be caused not by traders who lack information but by those who have too much.

Pessimism is Seductive

Morgan Housel of Collaborative Fund hits it again with his post on how pessimism is intellectually seductive in a way optimism only wishes it could be…

Tell someone that everything will be great and they’re likely to either shrug you off or offer a skeptical eye. Tell someone they’re in danger and you have their undivided attention.

Hearing that the world is going to hell is more interesting than forecasting that things will gradually get better over time, even if the latter is accurate for most people most of the time. Pessimism can be hard to distinguish from critical thinking and is often taken more seriously than optimism, which can be hard to distinguish from salesmanship and aloofness.

…On one hand it makes sense. Daniel Kahneman once wrote: “Organisms that treat threats as more urgent than opportunities have a better chance to survive and reproduce.”

But on the other hand, it’s crazy. We don’t just respond faster to pessimism. We coddle it for longer than is necessary. Optimism demands facts and is ditched at the first sign of trouble. Pessimism can be grown from a crazy thought and clutched indefinitely.

How to Fill Your Years with Life

If you haven’t picked Ryan wonderful book – Ego is the Enemy – do that now. In this book, he shows how ego – irrational or delusional self-belief – has long been linked with success and striving for goals yet this same drive has a dark side. Anyways, Ryan just wrote a wonderful post on things to do to live a full life and leave nothing on the table by 30. Among others, here are two of my favourites from his list…

7. Keep a Journal — Not for looking backward, but to force you to think about what you’re doing now. I should have done this earlier.

10. The Quiet Moments Are The Best — There is a line from Lao Tzu. “Peace is in the emptiness. Emptiness is in the fast of the mind.” It’s in the quiet, still moments that we feel what matters in life. Standing on the shore of a lake. Looking out over a canyon. Resting your head against someone else’s. It’s a shortage of these moments that give rise to the feeling that we haven’t lived enough, that we have to keep going. Seeking them out, encouraging them is what makes you feel like you’ve done plenty.

Ryan ends his post with a paragraph from Mozart, who lived to be 35 but filled those years with many, many decades of life and work…

I have now made a habit of being prepared in all affairs of life for the worst. As death, when we come to consider it closely, is the true goal of our existence, I have formed during the last few years such close relationships with this best and truest friend of mankind that his image is not only no longer terrifying to me but is indeed very soothing and consoling, and I thank my God for graciously granting me the opportunity of learning that death is the key which unlocks the door to our true happiness. I never lie down at night without reflecting that—young as I am—I may not live to see another day. Yet not one of all my acquaintances could say that in my company I am morose or disgruntled. For this blessing, I daily thank my creator.

Howard Marks on Market Excesses

Like Warren Buffett’s shareholder letters, Howard Marks’ memos are a must-read. In one he wrote in 2005, Marks discussed market trends being taken to excess – and the painful consequences that become clear in hindsight. Here’s an excerpt from that memo of Marks, which is highly relevant in today’s today environment…

I often cite John Kenneth Galbraith’s observation that one of the outstanding hallmarks of the financial world is “the extreme brevity of the financial memory.” Investors lose money over and over because they simply forget that cycles are inevitable and there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Now I’ve found a great quotation from Churchill, also reminding us that foresight comes largely from awareness of history.

Along similar lines, I’m struck by the extent to which a related factor, inadequate skepticism, also contributes to investment losses. Getting the most out of a book, play or movie usually requires “willing suspension of disbelief.” We’re glad to overlook the occasional plot glitch, historical inaccuracy or physical impossibility because it increases our enjoyment. When we watch Peter Pan, we don’t want to hear the person sitting next to us say, “I can see the wires” (even though we know they’re there). While we know boys can’t fly, we don’t care; we’re just there for fun.

But our purpose in investing is serious, not fun, and we must constantly be on the lookout for things that can’t work in real life. In short, the process of investing requires a strong dose of disbelief. Time and time again, the post-mortems of financial debacles include two classic phrases: “It was too good to be true” and “What were they thinking?” I’m writing to explore why these observations are so often invoked in the past tense.

How Big Oil Will Die

Electric cars with lives 3x longer than those run on the internal combustion engine are being bought in droves in the Western world. But this is just one of the factor that may spell doom for oil and the businesses that survive by producing and selling it…

Big Oil is perhaps the most feared and respected industry in history. Oil is warming the planet — cars and trucks contribute about 15% of global fossil fuels emissions — yet this fact barely dents its use. Oil fuels the most politically volatile regions in the world, yet we’ve decided to send military aid to unstable and untrustworthy dictators because their oil is critical to our own security. For the last century, oil has dominated our economics and our politics. Oil is power.

Yet I argue here that technology is about to undo a century of political and economic dominance by oil. Big Oil will be cut down in the next decade by a combination of smartphone apps, long-life batteries, and simpler gearing. And as is always the case with new technology, the undoing will occur far faster than anyone thought possible.

A Dozen Ideas from Charlie Munger

Tren Griffin of 25iq has done another wonderful post, this time on compiling a dozen thoughts from Charlie Munger from the 2017 Berkshire AGM, including this one…

“A life properly lived is just learn, learn, learn all the time.” “If we had stopped learning, you [Berkshire shareholders] wouldn’t be here – you’d be alive, probably, but you wouldn’t be here.” “There’s nothing like a personal, painful experience if we want to learn, and we certainly have had our share of it.” “There’s nothing like the pain of getting into a lousy business to find a good one.” “We were young and ignorant then; Now we’re old and ignorant.” “Experience is like eating cockleburs – it really gets your attention.” “It is a good idea to not play where the other people are better.”

Genius of Jeff Bezos

Sean Iddings has written a nice post tracking the genius of Amazon’s founder Jeff Bezos…

Jeff Bezos was able to see differently than nearly everybody else in the early 2000’s, and continues today, largely in part to his fanatical preparation.

In Jeff Bezos’ biography The Everything Store: Jeff Bezos and the Age of Amazon, childhood friend Joshua Weinstein recalled, “He was excruciatingly focused. Not like mad-scientist focused, but he was capable of really focusing, in a crazy way, on certain things. He was extremely disciplined, which is how he is able to do all these things.” Part of that focus and discipline was vacuuming up details from history. This vast storehouse of details has given Bezos the ability to frame his present situation with the best historical examples. In other words, by looking at the past he has been able to throw out all of the useless noise and draw accurate conclusions to how the future might unfold based on the past.

This phenomenon is perfectly observed in 2003 and is repeating again today.

Keep in Touch with People

Be the butterfly whose wings can create a positive hurricane in someone’s life. A lovely post from my friend Vishal Kataria…

Don’t just keep in touch with people who matter because they can give something. Keep in touch because sometimes, you will give something… something that nobody else can offer. Be there for them. Your friends will thank life for sending a friend like you. Your butterfly wings can create a positive hurricane in their lives.

I’m guilty of not keeping in touch with people who care. Just because. It took a memory to make me realize how selfish I am. It’s not always about me. In fact, it almost never should be about me. I will step out of my comfort zone. I will keep in touch. I will ask people if I can do something for them. Will you?

Compounding Goodwill

Einstein said, “Compound interest is the eighth wonder.” If you understand the basics of compounding, you would tend to agree with Einstein’s statement. There is immense power in compounding. A small amount of money left for compounding for a very long time, even at a modest rate, can turn into a staggering sum.

But what most people miss is that the real beauty of compounding lies not in wealth creation, but in another, more important, area of life too. It’s called goodwill that you create in this world.

In his book, Education of a Value Investor, Guy Spier writes about Mohnish Pabrai …

…over the past ten years, I’ve repeatedly observed how he looks to see what he can do for others, not the other way round…By acting this way, I could see that Mohnish created an incredible network of people who wish him well and would love to find ways to help him and thank him for his kindness. This is the extraordinarily powerful effect of compounding goodwill by being a giver, not a taker. And as he has taught me, the paradox is that you end up receiving infinitely more in life by giving than by taking.

True gifts bring people closer together. An unconditional gift, one given with nothing expected in return, can change everything. It creates conversations and spread ideas. It opens doors and creates forward motion.

So, what value are you adding to the world? What is it that you’re giving out without any expectation of returns?

As with all matters of compounding, the sooner you start the longer runway you’ll get.

Start today!

The post Safal Niveshak Stream – The Powerful Effect of Compounding Goodwill appeared first on Safal Niveshak.

Safal Niveshak Stream – The Powerful Effect of Compounding Goodwill published first on http://ift.tt/2ljLF4B

[sunshineweb]

Safal Niveshak Stream – The Powerful Effect of Compounding Goodwill

Some nice stuff I am reading, watching, and observing at the start of this weekend…

Of Greater Fools and Bubbles

How many greater fools does it take to make a bubble? An old but highly relevant post from Jason Zweig…

Economists have struggled and failed to explain why markets turn into manias. Some have denied bubbles exist; others have argued bubbles must somehow be “rational.” Often, the argument is that bubbles are caused by “uninformed” traders, or “dumb money,” while the “smart money” sits on the sidelines.

The latest findings suggest, however, that bubbles might be caused not by traders who lack information but by those who have too much.

Pessimism is Seductive

Morgan Housel of Collaborative Fund hits it again with his post on how pessimism is intellectually seductive in a way optimism only wishes it could be…

Tell someone that everything will be great and they’re likely to either shrug you off or offer a skeptical eye. Tell someone they’re in danger and you have their undivided attention.

Hearing that the world is going to hell is more interesting than forecasting that things will gradually get better over time, even if the latter is accurate for most people most of the time. Pessimism can be hard to distinguish from critical thinking and is often taken more seriously than optimism, which can be hard to distinguish from salesmanship and aloofness.

…On one hand it makes sense. Daniel Kahneman once wrote: “Organisms that treat threats as more urgent than opportunities have a better chance to survive and reproduce.”

But on the other hand, it’s crazy. We don’t just respond faster to pessimism. We coddle it for longer than is necessary. Optimism demands facts and is ditched at the first sign of trouble. Pessimism can be grown from a crazy thought and clutched indefinitely.

How to Fill Your Years with Life

If you haven’t picked Ryan wonderful book – Ego is the Enemy – do that now. In this book, he shows how ego – irrational or delusional self-belief – has long been linked with success and striving for goals yet this same drive has a dark side. Anyways, Ryan just wrote a wonderful post on things to do to live a full life and leave nothing on the table by 30. Among others, here are two of my favourites from his list…

7. Keep a Journal — Not for looking backward, but to force you to think about what you’re doing now. I should have done this earlier.

10. The Quiet Moments Are The Best — There is a line from Lao Tzu. “Peace is in the emptiness. Emptiness is in the fast of the mind.” It’s in the quiet, still moments that we feel what matters in life. Standing on the shore of a lake. Looking out over a canyon. Resting your head against someone else’s. It’s a shortage of these moments that give rise to the feeling that we haven’t lived enough, that we have to keep going. Seeking them out, encouraging them is what makes you feel like you’ve done plenty.

Ryan ends his post with a paragraph from Mozart, who lived to be 35 but filled those years with many, many decades of life and work…

I have now made a habit of being prepared in all affairs of life for the worst. As death, when we come to consider it closely, is the true goal of our existence, I have formed during the last few years such close relationships with this best and truest friend of mankind that his image is not only no longer terrifying to me but is indeed very soothing and consoling, and I thank my God for graciously granting me the opportunity of learning that death is the key which unlocks the door to our true happiness. I never lie down at night without reflecting that—young as I am—I may not live to see another day. Yet not one of all my acquaintances could say that in my company I am morose or disgruntled. For this blessing, I daily thank my creator.

Howard Marks on Market Excesses

Like Warren Buffett’s shareholder letters, Howard Marks’ memos are a must-read. In one he wrote in 2005, Marks discussed market trends being taken to excess – and the painful consequences that become clear in hindsight. Here’s an excerpt from that memo of Marks, which is highly relevant in today’s today environment…

I often cite John Kenneth Galbraith’s observation that one of the outstanding hallmarks of the financial world is “the extreme brevity of the financial memory.” Investors lose money over and over because they simply forget that cycles are inevitable and there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Now I’ve found a great quotation from Churchill, also reminding us that foresight comes largely from awareness of history.

Along similar lines, I’m struck by the extent to which a related factor, inadequate skepticism, also contributes to investment losses. Getting the most out of a book, play or movie usually requires “willing suspension of disbelief.” We’re glad to overlook the occasional plot glitch, historical inaccuracy or physical impossibility because it increases our enjoyment. When we watch Peter Pan, we don’t want to hear the person sitting next to us say, “I can see the wires” (even though we know they’re there). While we know boys can’t fly, we don’t care; we’re just there for fun.

But our purpose in investing is serious, not fun, and we must constantly be on the lookout for things that can’t work in real life. In short, the process of investing requires a strong dose of disbelief. Time and time again, the post-mortems of financial debacles include two classic phrases: “It was too good to be true” and “What were they thinking?” I’m writing to explore why these observations are so often invoked in the past tense.

How Big Oil Will Die

Electric cars with lives 3x longer than those run on the internal combustion engine are being bought in droves in the Western world. But this is just one of the factor that may spell doom for oil and the businesses that survive by producing and selling it…

Big Oil is perhaps the most feared and respected industry in history. Oil is warming the planet — cars and trucks contribute about 15% of global fossil fuels emissions — yet this fact barely dents its use. Oil fuels the most politically volatile regions in the world, yet we’ve decided to send military aid to unstable and untrustworthy dictators because their oil is critical to our own security. For the last century, oil has dominated our economics and our politics. Oil is power.

Yet I argue here that technology is about to undo a century of political and economic dominance by oil. Big Oil will be cut down in the next decade by a combination of smartphone apps, long-life batteries, and simpler gearing. And as is always the case with new technology, the undoing will occur far faster than anyone thought possible.

A Dozen Ideas from Charlie Munger

Tren Griffin of 25iq has done another wonderful post, this time on compiling a dozen thoughts from Charlie Munger from the 2017 Berkshire AGM, including this one…

“A life properly lived is just learn, learn, learn all the time.” “If we had stopped learning, you [Berkshire shareholders] wouldn’t be here – you’d be alive, probably, but you wouldn’t be here.” “There’s nothing like a personal, painful experience if we want to learn, and we certainly have had our share of it.” “There’s nothing like the pain of getting into a lousy business to find a good one.” “We were young and ignorant then; Now we’re old and ignorant.” “Experience is like eating cockleburs – it really gets your attention.” “It is a good idea to not play where the other people are better.”

Genius of Jeff Bezos

Sean Iddings has written a nice post tracking the genius of Amazon’s founder Jeff Bezos…

Jeff Bezos was able to see differently than nearly everybody else in the early 2000’s, and continues today, largely in part to his fanatical preparation.

In Jeff Bezos’ biography The Everything Store: Jeff Bezos and the Age of Amazon, childhood friend Joshua Weinstein recalled, “He was excruciatingly focused. Not like mad-scientist focused, but he was capable of really focusing, in a crazy way, on certain things. He was extremely disciplined, which is how he is able to do all these things.” Part of that focus and discipline was vacuuming up details from history. This vast storehouse of details has given Bezos the ability to frame his present situation with the best historical examples. In other words, by looking at the past he has been able to throw out all of the useless noise and draw accurate conclusions to how the future might unfold based on the past.

This phenomenon is perfectly observed in 2003 and is repeating again today.

Keep in Touch with People

Be the butterfly whose wings can create a positive hurricane in someone’s life. A lovely post from my friend Vishal Kataria…

Don’t just keep in touch with people who matter because they can give something. Keep in touch because sometimes, you will give something… something that nobody else can offer. Be there for them. Your friends will thank life for sending a friend like you. Your butterfly wings can create a positive hurricane in their lives.

I’m guilty of not keeping in touch with people who care. Just because. It took a memory to make me realize how selfish I am. It’s not always about me. In fact, it almost never should be about me. I will step out of my comfort zone. I will keep in touch. I will ask people if I can do something for them. Will you?

Compounding Goodwill

Einstein said, “Compound interest is the eighth wonder.” If you understand the basics of compounding, you would tend to agree with Einstein’s statement. There is immense power in compounding. A small amount of money left for compounding for a very long time, even at a modest rate, can turn into a staggering sum.

But what most people miss is that the real beauty of compounding lies not in wealth creation, but in another, more important, area of life too. It’s called goodwill that you create in this world.

In his book, Education of a Value Investor, Guy Spier writes about Mohnish Pabrai …

…over the past ten years, I’ve repeatedly observed how he looks to see what he can do for others, not the other way round…By acting this way, I could see that Mohnish created an incredible network of people who wish him well and would love to find ways to help him and thank him for his kindness. This is the extraordinarily powerful effect of compounding goodwill by being a giver, not a taker. And as he has taught me, the paradox is that you end up receiving infinitely more in life by giving than by taking.

True gifts bring people closer together. An unconditional gift, one given with nothing expected in return, can change everything. It creates conversations and spread ideas. It opens doors and creates forward motion.

So, what value are you adding to the world? What is it that you’re giving out without any expectation of returns?

As with all matters of compounding, the sooner you start the longer runway you’ll get.

Start today!

The post Safal Niveshak Stream – The Powerful Effect of Compounding Goodwill appeared first on Safal Niveshak.

Safal Niveshak Stream – The Powerful Effect of Compounding Goodwill published first on http://ift.tt/2sCRXMW