How Jordan treats Layla is already less than how he’s treated Simone. it’ll never be the better love for Jordan, he is a downgraded man at this point.

When Jordan was knocked out, multiple concussions and depressed about his future, Layla was nowhere to be seen supporting him. She wasn’t even at the hospital. When Layla was honoring her mothers death, house got broken into and couldn’t sleep in her own home anymore, depressed, spiraling, in rehab, got out of rehab, Jordan was nowhere to be seen, Jordan didn’t even notice Layla was behaving differently. He actually argued to Olivia that she wasn’t. At her lowest. Because they were never built up as two people who were always there for each other, they missed so much of each others arcs throughout the show that if you want to argue that they are best friends and childhood best friends. you are arguing that they are bad best friends because they weren’t there for each other when they were at their lowest on the show. But Simone was always there for Jordan and Jordan was always there for Simone. Even now while broken up, he’s still encouraging her and cheering for her. He’s there for her no matter what. It’s already a downgrade.

It didn’t get better even while building their relationship

When Simone had to go to her childs adoptive parents and have that difficult conversation about wanting her child back, Jordan knew it would be hard for Simone and wanted to go with her. Simone said it wasn’t necessary. She didn’t ask. The entire episode was creating a dilemma of him, what he wanted to do which was be there for Simone and what he needed to do which was take the team photo. He wanted to be right next to her during that difficult conversation. He wanted to be there for her over what he needed to do for himself. When Layla had to go and face the girl who tried to kill her, Jordan was mad that Layla was dragging her feet and didn’t just go and face her already. Jordan didn’t have any intention of wanting to be by her side when he suggested she goes and sees her. He didn’t feel the need to be next to her for a conversation I kind of feel is a worse one. That girl tried to literally kill her and he knew how that fucked her up. He pointed out that he felt she died that day. But he didn’t care to be there for her? He then proceeded to make the entire situation about himself and his own problems by complaining about Spencer the entire time. Layla herself points out that he isn’t even doing this for her and just to get away from Spencer. His intentions in their official “Jordan is supporting her” moment wasn’t even him intentionally supporting her because he wanted to be there for her. That was always why he wanted to support Simone since he found out she was pregnant. To just always be there for her. That’s a downgrade.

When Jordan realized he had feelings for Simone, he turned those girls away at the party because he felt his heart was taken by Simone before he even confessed. When Jordan realized he had feelings for Layla, he fucked a bunch of white girls to just ‘make sure’. His relationship with Simone was first. He knew to not do that when he was falling for Simone first out of his feelings for her without the actual commitment to her but years later suddenly he feels he can sleep with other girls while having feelings for somebody else? That’s a downgrade.

Jordan slut shamed Layla for sleeping with two guys which I never even knew he had in him. I didn’t think he was capable of shaming someone for simply having sex considering how he’s slept with half of LA but that was a new low and it was just for Layla. A downgraded man.

And now we’re seeing Jordan kiss and confess to Layla that he likes her and Simone is in the past for him only to go to Bringston still in his feelings about Simone. When Jordan fell for Simone, he wanted only her, to marry her, to be with her forever. While Layla is getting him sleeping with other girls first, then confessed to like she is the one for him only for that man to be running off to fight for another girl right after. Their love can never be better than Jimone because Jordan showed how he loves with Simone. We’ve seen how he behaves before they get together and after. Layla is not getting that already. He knows how to do it right. This is not Jordan’s best. This is a downgrade. 

The way Damon is so unnecessary in AAHC. Idk why they made him the male lead. He is BORING. If you wanted a charismatic baseball player with a compelling family history we have JR. They literally made them brothers. Cam crossed over from AA so we have that connection. Damon just seems so unnecessary all this storylines are boring and Dimone is not a special love story, they tried to force it so hard in s1 and now it’s upstaged by Lamone. Tell me what’s so special about Damon that isn’t seen in another male character on the show (and done better). Geffri has chemistry with everyone, and while dimone’s moments this season are better (because they relaxed on shoving it down our throats), Damon and Simone’s friendship isn’t the backbone of the show.

"A colt will not attain his greatest excellence at three years old, or at five either, if such excellence is to be very great or lasting. There is nothing in nature that comes to maturity early and lasts long; early maturity means early decay in nineteen cases out of twenty."

"I would much rather have my colts intended for campaigning purposes grown up in their free and natural way until at least two years old, and if longer so much the better for the durability of the animal."

"...but to hammer the life out of the poor things when they are but mere babies, as is often done, seems to me to be both cruel and inhuman." John Dimon, American Horses and Horse Breeding (1895)

Creed

The reckoning 

Content warning: violence gore and bullying shame

Hellion is a smug spoiled brat and even worse he has telekinisis of all things. It started with sabertooth “jokes” he introduced himself to me by asking if I was sabertooth’s kid. I said he was my biological father’s farther and I’m not sabertooth. He then told me he was the first mutant in his family. He then said I should have been declawed cause “we don’t need another sabertooth running around” he then patted my head and said good kitty in that patronizeing way he talks to his underlings. Then he started knocking my books off my desk with his mind at random times. I don’t lose my temper too easy so I ignored him he isn't worth my time. Ignoring him didn’t work he did similar things to the new girl with the electrical powers. Fuck this guy, he was dam desprate for a fight and I gave it to him today. 

“HEY Sabertooth wannabe!” he shouted at me from the other side of the base ball diamond Mo was next to me so I asked her if she could go find storm for me and she ran off. That’s my girl this is between the big kids. “Yo creed!” I role my eyes and turn around  “what is your problem!” 

“My problem is some rabid psycho mutt is making moves on sofia when I called dibs when she first got here.” he shot back like it was a perfectly normal and acceptable thing to call dibs on a freaking person. “ you can’t call dibs on a person. She dosen’t even want to talk to you.” I dismissed  “at least she’ll be better off without a monster like you in her life.” before I could even process this the gravel from the baseball dimon flew up and cut my shirt off along with my chest binder leaving a few already healing gashes in it’s wake. I managed to stand my ground and I didn’t let this prick knock me down. As soon as the rags that used to be the top half of my out fit hit the ground the gray gravel storm stopped. He stifled a laugh at my breasts they’re small but they are certainly there. “holy shit you're a chick!?” he exclaimed raising his hands in surender. I’m not proud of this part but I saw red. Next thing I knew I was on him siting on his back clawed hand pinning him to the gravel by his throat, sharp fangs dug deep into his shoulder my second set of claws drew angry vengeful slashes down his back it didn’t matter what he threw at me I barely felt it It didn’t matter what anyone said I barely heard it. I think I heard ms. storm scream my name and I felt two heavy duty tranc darts hit me in the back. Ms. monroe is a good shot. I just caught a glimpse of my oponent? Victim? In a quivering bloody mess under me I think I smelt urine on him but then I quickly blacked out. 

I woke up strapped to an infirmary bed I was flooded with all the rage and grief and dispare guilt fear shame hellion had been putting me through for months all I could so was scream and ugly sob straped down and helpless untill I passed out again.   

I was both physically and socially isolated from my peers for the next few weeks only being able to interact with the medical staff. I humbled that asshole big time sure but I might have gone too far. So I decide to write a letter to golden boy, josh I think his name was. And ask him to heal the damage I have done. I signed the letter Jason Creed Bad Wolf. by the next day I get a letter back well I get my letter but it had been answered using the back of the page.  Don’t worry man, I healed him for you, you're welcome BTW.-Josh  he was asking for It and you didn’t strike to kill if you were anything like sabertooth he would have died ages ago he got off easy. You are not a bad wolf you are a Timber Wolf If anything. Don’t listen to hellion. Mo is worried about you but the girls will need more time but they will come around eventually.-David 

I have good friends, finally, I hope Sofia is ok. Hellion has been moved out of my class good for him.   

Travellers arriving in an unfamiliar city used to worry that they’d climb in a taxi and be driven to their destination by the most circuitous route possible, racking up an enormous bill. That’s pretty much what Big Oil and its allies in government and the financial world are doing with the climate crisis—in fact, at this point, it’s the heart of the problem.

Yes, there are a few bitter-enders who refuse to acknowledge that change must come. Earlier in the summer, the Saudi Minister of Energy, Abdulaziz bin Salman, reportedly told a Bank of America gathering that “every molecule of hydrocarbon” will be drained from his country’s oil fields. But most fossil-fuel profiteers have learned to talk the talk. Jamie Dimon, the C.E.O. of JPMorgan Chase, for instance, has lent more money to the fossil-fuel industry than anyone else—but he was wise enough to say, in April, that “climate change and inequality are two of the critical issues of our time.” The bank has pledged that, by 2030, it will invest a trillion dollars in “green initiatives that boost renewable energy and clean technologies.” Does that mean one of America’s largest financial institutions is moving away from fossil fuels? Of course not. Last year, Chase once again topped the charts as Big Oil’s biggest financial lifeline. Indeed, earlier this month, DeSmogBlog released transcripts from an “energy capital conference” held earlier in the year. There, Chase’s managing director, Greg Determann, was asked by one expert if the company was “still going to be lending to oil and gas companies.” “For a long time,” Determann said, without hesitation. “Mr. Dimon is quite focussed on the industry. It’s a huge business for us and that’s going to be the case for decades to come.”

The same logic that governs companies often governs countries, too. As the veteran energy analyst Ketan Joshi pointed out, the Australian Prime Minister, Scott Morrison, has set the de-rigeur target of “net zero by 2050,” but, in April, indicated that “the trajectory to any net-zero outcome is not linear, and anyone who thinks it is I think doesn’t get it.” Morrison traced a curve in the air with his hand after he spoke, Joshi noted, “suggesting emissions reductions occur very late in the 30 years between now and 2050.” “What we are seeing here is a mumbled acknowledgement of the macro problem, but an aggressive refusal to consider the micro components that comprise it,” Joshi wrote. “It is the core engine of climate inaction.”

This is absolutely correct. We call it “greenwashing,” but that’s too technical a term. We should call it what it is: people with a vested interest are learning how to slow-walk this crisis. They’ve done it with a thousand other crises, too, of course—one thinks of how, following the Supreme Court’s ruling in Brown v. Board of Education, segregationists managed to delay action for a decade or more, focussing on a single phrase in the decision: “with all deliberate speed.” But here they’re doing it in the face of an absolute deadline imposed by science. As the United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has made clear, we must cut emissions in half by 2030 or our chances of meeting the targets that we set in Paris just six years ago fall by the wayside. Slow-walking is sabotage—smiling, and deadly.

And, in the course of that slow-walking, Big Oil is figuring out how to game the system in every way possible: as Inside Climate News recently reported, energy companies and their lobbyists are filling the infrastructure bill with billions of dollars for carbon-sequestration projects—essentially, getting taxpayers to fund equipment to capture the climate-destroying gases that Big Oil’s products emit. That’s absurd: it would be much cheaper to simply shut down those power plants and build out solar and wind power instead. But, for the fossil-fuel industry, preservation of the business model is paramount—they want to burn the stuff they own, no matter the consequences. The Biden Administration is caught in a very hard place: the White House is sincerely trying to accelerate climate action, but to do so it has to get past industry allies in the Democratic Party (Joe Manchin, for instance, who fears that we’re “going to the EV” too fast), not to mention a business-friendly judiciary, which has, for instance, blocked Biden’s plans to stop new drilling leases on federal lands. That’s why, one guesses, you get leaders who know better, like the domestic-climate czar, Gina McCarthy, repeating old bromides about “all of the above” energy supply, or ignoring the increasingly bitter protests over follies like the Line 3 tar-sands pipeline, which runs through Minnesota.

The eventual outcome is not in doubt: eventually, the planet will run on renewable energy. But how long that transition takes will determine what kind of shape we leave the planet in. At the moment, the bankers and politicians in the driver’s seat are taking us for a very long, very dangerous, and very expensive ride. We didn’t ask for Hell when we climbed in the cab, but that may well be where we end up, unless we figure out how to grab the wheel.

Something I think liberals need to be mindful of is you should be taking very seriously all the criticism of Biden from leftists. Not because I think we're a significant enough portion of the normal electorate to take a nomination from him, but we're trying to warn you, like we did with Clinton. He's not electable. Normal People will not be energized to turn out for him. And it's not because leftists are giving him bad PR - it's because he's a bad candidate.

Instead of shouting "blue no matter who" at people who aren't going to change their minds to make yourself feel better, you should look into how corrupt our democracy is. You should look into what community efforts you can engage in to help people.

If you're comitted to trying to win the election, you should be caping for Bernie has hard as possible and bringing up every nasty thing or clear sign of cognitive decline Biden's done because the Republicans and media will do it anyway if he gets the nom. A socialist may not be persuadable but your grandmother could be. It's not enough to say "Bernie is better but please vote Biden."

We're in the midst of a global pandemic with a presumptive front-runner who would veto Medicare for all. We're in the worst income inequality crisis in many decades with Biden wanting Jamie Dimon in his cabinet and Mike Bloomberg running the world bank, which will horrifically affect many other countries. Trump would be genuinely be to the left of him in these cases. We're trying to warn you. Please listen.

11/11/11 Tag Game

Thanks to @michaelbjorkwrites for the tag. I can’t find the original list, so I’m going to answer the same questions.

1. Do you have a favorite OC?

I have two that I can’t decide between. There’s Saphren, a severely OP OC that I’ve developed over many years of writing snippets both mentally and digitally. Saphren is an anthropomorphic canine with ridiculous cosmic powers who is in love with a mortal cursed with immunity to all forms of decay, including time. She’s actually a Guardian of many of my fictional worlds, something like an anti-Galactus but slightly more ridiculously powerful. However, she can only exercise said powers when she’s abiding by the Universal Law of Balance, and correcting said balance. So, if she can’t actually super-fight, she knows she messed up somewhere. Second is Samma Dawn, a Witch-Kin servant of Goddess Emelis, the First Mother (basically my Gaia stand-in for a world I’ve been developing called Minera). Samma can commune with flora and fauna, make bonds with both and even manipulate them directly if necessary. Samma is dutiful, somewhat aloof and often puts Nature above all else, leaving a bitter taste for many who meet him, but he is honest, and does care deeply for other peoples who take the time to understand his values and choices.

2. Which WIP has changed the most? Why?

Probably my most recent one concerning a retelling of a popular fairy tale, because I’m just not sure how to start it, what exactly I want to say about it, and I’ve been stuck in outline phase for a dog’s age because of college.

3. Do you enjoy worldbuilding? Do you consider yourself good at it?

Without a doubt I love WorldBuilding (TM). Worldbuilding is probably my favorite part of the big picture. As for good at it?.. I’m confident in my ability to spitball a believable world. When it comes time for details, like religions or culture, I’m someone who tends to take less inspiration from specific things, and I just look at broad categories. Like, I’ll look at a bunch of cultures that hold some specific animal(s) sacred and find similarities to build off of, rather than make a direct/potential analogue with ten different details and a new name.

4. Have you ever made a conlang/fictional language for a WIP?

Yes and no. I made a cipher language with translation rules, which ended up being far too specific and I kept losing track of how to substitute my vowels... So I didn’t get far. It was a fun experiment, and I was inspired to do it by StarFox Adventure’s cipher.

5. Do you like to keep faceclaims of your OCs? Do you find them online or draw them yourself?

Technically yes... I have a very vivid idea of what Saphren looks like, because I simply associate an old Furcadia (uwu bois) portrait from my favorite map to her face. As for Samma, I’ve never had him drawn, and I cannot draw myself, so his face is very close to mine in my head, but if I described it, it’d be so different in your own that I don’t really think it’s terribly important.

6. Has anyone ever made any fanfic or fan art for you?

No, no. I haven’t posted anything worth it, to be fair.

7. Who is your writing buddy/confidant you always come to about your work?

Probably my wife. She usually reads everything I write before anyone else. As for the process itself, I’ve been very private about stuff that either isn’t finished or is just literally fanfiction of my own that I write as a self-indulgence because sometimes I want to go to a magical horse world without war and politics.

8. Big or small cast?

Medium. I prefer to have a cast of five to seven. Some people say seven is big, but I think nine and up is big, personally. Now, I usually split this up into Big P(rotagonist), Direct Support (1-2 aka sidekicks), Main Party (Includes previous, 2-5), Narrative Support (2-4 depends on many things, and can change members), and Just For This Scene (because we pass people every day that contribute but never become important).

9. Were any of your characters inspired by others you saw or read about?

Saphren’s love interest mentioned above, Lord Harken, is based on the Dunedain from Middle Earth as far as his lore is concerned; he came from a medieval world originally, but since he’s immune to decay, he got to watch it develop into a space-faring one, and eventually got a ship of his own. I had a character somewhat based on Inuyasha at one point, though he wasn’t a demon originally. His name is Taka, or at least that’s what he calls himself as even I can’t remember if that’s his real name or not. His younger brother was killed in a mercenary raid of their village. The two were orphans even before this, so Taka was furious, walked to the gates of Hell and even beat one of Hell’s jailors at a chance game for his brother’s soul. Dimone, the Demon Avatar of Wrath, took notice and told Taka that if he would eat a Pale Apple from the tree within Lucifer’s Crater, he could always protect his brother. Taka did so, and was cursed with a dark seed that basically turned him into a killing machine any time his brother was threatened, Taka got angry, or someone did something immoral and Taka found out about it. Dimone tricked Taka into being a soul harvester, essentially. He gets better, but his journey was not a happy one. His brother outgrew him and died peacefully, and Taka’s one comfort was that his brother always understood and stood by Taka, so at least neither was truly alone.

10. Favorite trope(s)?

So many... World of Cardboard Speeches are something I love. Even Evil Has Standards usually makes for some interesting depth or hilarious bits. Our (Insert thing here) Is/Are Different is one of my favorites. Crouching Moron/Hidden Badass is so much fun to play with. I think the crowning trope for me though is probably Refusal of The Call. It’s almost cliche these days, but it’s not just yet because there’s also so many Jumped At The Call stories/games that when the “Hero” is just like, “Nah, I’m good” I always want to see what circumstances arise that either light the fire or changes the course. It’s great when done well.

11. How do you waste time not writing?

Minecraft, but at the same time, Minecraft has inspired me so much. The open world becomes a story in and of itself for me personally. Minecraft inspired me to create the world of Minera, and Minera is based on Minecraft as an environment with many of my favorite mods being the basis for the rest of the world; its magic, its peoples, its history, everything. I absolutely adore the game and everything it has given me, done for me, and in some dark places in my life kept me from doing.

Tag list: @naiive-and-starry-eyed​ @enlightenedrobot @promptdumpster @linkedsoul @leopard-prompts @givethispromptatry @kiramartinauthor @writing-prompt-s @writeroftheprompts

All Fall Down

A/N: This is the last Dimon fic I ever wrote, according to the save date on the original file. Fittingly, it’s also the last fic I have to post out of my old drafts. 

In which Demi handles the aftermath of That Episode from the UK X Factor, everyone cries, and Simon gets the hugs he deserves.

After a while, lies become truth. If you absorb a lie long enough, live it long enough, put effort into convincing everyone it is real, eventually you convince yourself. Eventually you forget the naked truth, replace all of the raw reality with a shiny film of fantasy, and it becomes real.

It becomes real, but lies are always only ever made out of the thinnest glass. And sometimes all it takes is one shot to bring everything down around you.

For Simon, that one shot was a well-meaning singer from Billingham, the setting was a televised audition, and the broken fantasy suddenly raining down around his ears was comprised of just two little words: I’m fine.

He was the furthest from fine he’d ever been in his life, and his only goal in the world at the moment was keeping himself from falling apart entirely at the judges’ desk. But every word of that damned song was a perfectly aimed knife to the heart, cutting him into ribbons over again.

Because Lauren was gone. And Demi was long gone. And his mum--his mum, the sweetest woman he’d known--was gone.

He’d been numb since he got the news just days ago that she’d passed. He’d gone on to do the show anyways and waved off any concern because he was fine, he didn’t feel anything, and maybe that just made him as much of a heartless bastard as Demi had screamed in their last fight. What kind of man couldn’t mourn his mother?

No, he wasn’t heartless. He had one, and his grief had only been dormant, and this bloody song was a sucker punch.

His mind flitted suddenly to Demi’s old lyrics as he discreetly swiped a finger beneath his eye, almost bursting out into paradoxical laughter. I just ran out of band aids, I don’t even know where to start...you never really can fix a heart.

And she was gone too, making a life for herself without him, happy without him, better than ever. Thriving and singing and sober and, last he’d been able to bring himself to check, very much in love with a man who was not him. I’m jealous of the way you’re happy without me.

And Lauren was so far gone now. She’d left when Eric was barely six months old, with a shrug and a sad little smile and a promise to stay in her son’s life. She really hadn’t, and the whole of raising an entirely unplanned child had fallen to Simon. Who was, perhaps, the most well-meaning and least-prepared combination possible for a father.

And it had been his mother that he’d called when Demi left, tears in her eyes but yelling in anger, slamming the door on her way out. “Mum”,  he’d announced unceremoniously on the phone, swallowing hard and trying for unaffected. He failed miserably. “I’ve cocked everything up.”

And it had been his mother that he’d called when Lauren left him, dryly asking for parenting advice and completely beating around the bush that time until she’d wrestled out of him that he’d failed, again, that he’d chased off a second good-hearted woman and was doomed to a miserable existence of living with himself.

And now she was gone too. His fists were clenched in his lap, he was trying so damn hard to keep it together, and he had some horrible Frankenstein mash-up of the Labyrinth lyrics and Demi’s running around in his brain, threatening to choke him. He was jealous of her death, and that didn’t make any sense; he didn’t want to die, there was Eric to think about after all. He was jealous of her somewhere he couldn’t get to, she was beyond his reach. Forever.

“Take it to a vote,” he murmured to Cheryl, and briefly congratulated himself for keeping a steady voice long enough to confirm the third yes for the young singer.

And then he stood, his body warring from second to second between utter numbness and heart-shattering grief, and made his way off of the set as calmly as he could, the other judges following at a hesitant distance.

He could hear Cheryl, speaking louder than she thought she was. “I don’t know what to do, do I go...should I let him go?”

And again, he wanted to give into bitter laughter. There’s nothing you can do. But Simon knew that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to stuff back inside the hysterical sobs currently stuck in his chest, and he was Simon Cowell and he wasn’t going to cry. Certainly not where anyone could see him.

So he wordlessly waved off his staff and tossed his microphone at one of them, and got onto the back of a golf cart in wretched silence, staring down at his hands in his lap and his wrists, unmarked.

Demi had always had a sixth sense for when he was upset, even if he tried not to tell her. And without fail, she’d take his hands and reflexively trace her Stay Strong script on his wrists, a source of comfort to herself she was passing on to him.

God, he missed her. And it was his own fault she was gone, he had no one to blame but himself for any of it.

***

In the airport in London, beneath the hoodie of an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of dark glasses, just in case, Demi was biting the inside of her lip absently, waiting for her bag on the carousel.

She’d come with just the one, a little overnight bag with next to nothing in it, took a commercial flight and sat in economy, and done it all without thinking. And now here she was, alone, because she’d stupidly decided to ditch her bodyguards and fly out without warning, with no idea what the hell she was doing.

She’d come for Simon, but that was about as far as that plan went. Simon, who had a girlfriend and a son and plenty of work, who wasn’t expecting her. Simon, who she’d screamed at and slammed a door on, and spent the next months of her tour sobbing her eyes out in bathrooms.

What was she even going to say when she saw him? How was she supposed to explain that Marissa had taken one look at her devastated expression when someone accidentally mentioned him, rolled her eyes, pointed at the door, and said exasperatedly, “Oh, just go get him!”

How was she supposed to explain that she’d almost turned around in LAX, but two women were gossiping next to her and that was how she’d heard about his mum and it had only solidified her spontaneous decision?

She knew she wasn’t exactly welcome at the best of times. And better yet, how was she even going to find him? Knocking on the front door wasn’t exactly an option.

Spying her plain black bag, she yanked it off of the belt with a bit more force than was strictly necessary, making a noise of frustration and walking out to the street, waving down a cab awkwardly.

On the scale of every bad decision she’d ever made, this one was pretty close to the top. Demetria, what are you doing?

Without thinking, she gave the driver Simon’s London address, only panicking after he’d turned the second corner. This wasn’t going to work. This was a terrible idea. She was going to kill Marissa. It wasn’t even Marissa’s fault for finally intervening in two years of Quietly Sad Demi. Jesus Christ.

Demi’s stomach was all anxious, terrified butterflies by the time she paid the cab driver and got out onto the curb, letting her bag drop to the ground next to her feet.

It occurred to her then that she had nowhere better to go, and no idea what the code to his gate was anymore, and this was quite possibly the stupidest situation she’d ever gotten herself into.

She dragged her bag the few meters over to lean up against the gate around his property, bracing one foot up behind her and jamming her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. She’d chosen this outfit on purpose, to avoid standing out and catching any attention, but Demi was well aware that she probably also looked like a random vagrant lurking outside Simon Cowell’s house.

She contemplated ringing the bell, but odds were against him being home anyway. That, and doing so would actually summon him if he was. For all her ridiculously hasty arrival, she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to see him again, and get punched in the chest with all of those emotions all over again.

She wasn’t ready to rip open old wounds, wasn’t ready to play visitor to his happy little family. But she wasn’t strong enough to turn away, couldn’t stop herself. After all this time, she still needed him, and she thought that just maybe, if there was ever a time for him to need her again, this was it.

Demi wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, scrolling through her phone and sending a few panicked texts to Marissa--as of yet, unanswered--when his car pulled up. She looked up, startled, already trying to retreat further into the depths of her hoodie, but Demi squared her jaw instead. It was only Simon. And she was Demi freaking Lovato, and she wasn’t going to be afraid of this.

She pushed herself slowly off of the gate, tucking her phone into the back pocket of her skinny jeans, tilting her head slightly as she tried to peer inside of the car he hadn’t even bothered to park properly. Between the tint of his windows and her sunglasses, she couldn’t really see much, just enough to make out the silhouette of his head, slumped forward on his arms against the steering wheel. Oh, Simon.

Her reaction was just instinctive. Demi didn’t think twice about pushing that hood back and stripping off her sunglasses, shaking her dark hair out and walking toward him.

He opened the door before she got close, wearily unfolding long legs and slamming the door shut for all he was worth, not sparing a glance for the small woman coming up the sidewalk. His white shirt looked wrinkled and his eyes were red, lips pressed together tightly, and Demi’s heart clenched, a lump already forming in her throat.

She opened her mouth to call to him just as he finally glanced her way, and their eyes locked. Simon froze completely, and Demi started running.

He didn’t catch her, didn’t speak, didn’t do anything but stand there while she crashed into his chest and hung on, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing.

“What in the bloody hell,” he finally said hoarsely, and she wondered how much he’d been crying.

She tilted her head up, propping her chin on his chest, and smiled gently. “Hi, Simon.” It may have been a stupid greeting, but there would be time to kick herself later. For now, there was enough on her plate. Simon blinked at her rapidly for a long moment, long enough for Demi to worry if she’d really shocked his poor old man heart too much, and she watched his eyes well up again. “Baby,” she whispered almost involuntarily. It wasn’t pity, it wasn’t reflexive sympathy, it was just love. Love that she’d never stopped feeling, not when it came to him.

And that was enough. Simon lurched forward against her, his arms coming up around her ribs tight enough to ache, and he buried his head in her shoulder with a heartbreaking sound tearing from his throat that she’d never heard before.

Demi just let him hang on for a long moment, breathing evenly against his vice grip, one of her hands running soothingly over his back. “I don’t know how to get inside,” she finally murmured calmly. “Come on, I’ve been out here for like an hour.”

Simon didn’t appear to have heard her. “I’m sorry,” he choked out against her skin, shaking against her.

Demi felt her own eyes stinging, and bit the edge of her tongue stubbornly. Now was not the time to fall apart. “Shh, come on, Si, let’s go inside.”

She took a step backwards, pulling him with her, and carefully pried herself out of his grip, keeping one of his hands in hers to tug him along.

He keyed in something and let her walk up to the house with him in tow, his free hand over his face. He wasn’t sure she was real yet, had no idea what to make of her sudden presence here. And she was simultaneously a relief and making everything worse, and she was only going to break him further when she left, but all he could do was hold onto her, feeling like a lost little boy.

They made it as far as the staircase. Demi wasn’t really sure what had just happened, but she was suddenly sitting down halfway up the stairs with Simon beside her, turning into her body and giving into heart wrenching sobs once more.

Demi’s lip quivered, and she hugged him tighter. “Baby,” she whispered thickly. One of her hands found his, and she rubbed her thumb across the inside of his wrist absently, her other arm hugging him tightly against her. “Shh, I’ve got you.”

For some reason, that little gesture only broke him further. He was mumbling something into the grey material on her shoulder, words that broke her heart when she finally understood them. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Simon, shh,”

“It’s not okay,” he returned heavily, and Demi winced. She’d assumed that his apology was unconnected to losing his mom--what could he have to apologize for there? But it was still a thoughtless reply, given the circumstances.

“No, not really,” she whispered, rubbing soothing patterns across his back. “It’s not okay, and it sucks, but you’re going to get through it. I promise.”

Simon just sniffed, hugging her tighter. “She’s gone, Demi.”

Demi’s voice broke too as she replied, squeezing his hand as a comfort to both of them. “I know, Si, I know. I’m so sorry. And I wish I could have met her, but I know how wonderful she was. And she loved you so much.”

His mum’s love wasn’t really something he tended to question, but in a moment of weakness, he still found himself returning softly, “How would you know?”

Demi sniffed, and let out a little laugh, shaking her shoulder enough to dislodge him and force him to meet her brown eyes. “Because I love you. And if she could see half of what I see, she’d love you just as much. And she was your mum,” she emphasized the British variant with a smile, “which means she definitely knew you way better than I do.”

“Demi…” Simon mumbled, the only thing he knew how to say anymore. Just her name, just her touch, just her.

She seemed to realize the implications of what she’d said, and drew back a little. “Is...is Lauren home, Simon?”

Simon’s face clouded, and he glanced away from her. “No,” he said simply. “She’s not.”

Demi swallowed, biting her lip hesitantly. There was more to that story, she could tell, but now wasn’t the time. “These stairs are not comfortable, Simon,” she said instead, trying for a little of her teasing brattiness.

It worked, and she saw the darkness recede from his eyes somewhat. He stood slowly, holding both hands out to her, and pulled her to her feet, leading her the rest of the way upstairs.

He went to his bedroom, Demi following on his heels, and ended up standing in the middle of the room, looking lost.

Demi sighed, and perched on the edge of his bed. “Do you want to take a shower?” she finally suggested, when he didn’t seem to gain any more direction.

His eyes flicked to hers. “What about you?”

“I’ll be right here,” Demi nodded firmly, gesturing to the bed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Simon seemed to doubt that very much, but the slump in his shoulders and curl of his spine spoke of defeated acceptance, like he knew she’d leave and had given up on doing anything about it.

“I’ll be right here,” Demi whispered again, and waited for the door to the ensuite to close completely behind him before she launched herself at one of his pillows and screamed briefly into the white fluff.

There was so much pain contained in that man, more than she could attribute to just his mom, and she wasn’t even sure that she wasn’t making it worse. Demi would have given just about anything to strip it away from him, bring back the Simon she remembered from so long ago, laughing behind his hand at some contestant on the stage, holding her hand beneath the table.

She just had to have faith that they could get there again. Together. And it started here, with her promise to stay, which she had no intention at all of going back on.

Demi pulled her hoodie off over her head, leaving her in just a dark green tank top, and let herself lie back on the bed she’d stayed in once before, smiling in spite of herself at the familiar, quintessentially Simon scent surrounding her.

She’d just taken a nearly twelve hour flight, crossed multiple time zones and then emotionally exhausted herself with Simon. Demi didn’t think twice about slipping between his sheets and hugging the pillow, closing her eyes and breathing in the familiar smell of cologne and mints and cigarettes and the shampoo he always used, thinking that maybe, in spite of everything, she was almost coming home.

And that was how Simon found her nearly an hour later, when he finally dragged himself out of the bathroom, fully expecting to be greeted by an empty house. She had to be too good to be true, didn’t she?

Instead, his brat was curled up asleep, holding onto his pillow and looking surprisingly peaceful, all things considered. Relief flooded him, and he bit the end of his tongue as he moved to his closet, refusing to cry again. Now that he’d opened the dam of emotions, stopping it was harder than he’d thought.

But a sleeping Demi wasn’t a reason for tears. It was a reason to just climb in with her.

She woke to Simon slipping his arm around her waist from behind, a soft smile spreading over her lips as she turned over her shoulder to see him. “Hi,” she murmured, still sleepy.

“Hey, brat,” his voice was still a wreck from crying, but steady, the familiar nickname making her relax. If he could joke, they’d be okay.

Simon pressed a soft kiss to the bare skin of her shoulder, tucking her body against his. “Thank you,”

Demi just shrugged, smiling up into his face. “Where else would I be?”

His eyes clouded slightly, and he looked away from her gaze. “I am sorry, Demi. For everything.”

“I don’t really care about that anymore,” Demi said softly, biting her lip. And maybe she was supposed to, and of course they’d have things to figure out, but if his mom’s death had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t want to waste any time being angry about the past.

Still, as much as she wanted to just melt into his arms and fall all the way back into him, in every sense of the word, there was something she needed to know. “Simon,” she sighed, wondering if the answer was going to damn them completely. “I need to know, babe. Where’s Lauren?”

He exhaled, his breath tickling the hair at the base of her neck. It took him a while to reply, and when he finally did, it was simple. “She’s gone, Dem. She left...I haven’t seen her in a year. Eric’s with a sitter while I’m at work.”

Her immediate relief that she wasn’t in their bed right now was tempered by a rush of fury, that Lauren could leave, that she could abandon her son and walk away from the best man she was ever going to find.

“I’m sorry,” Demi said finally, slowly, lacing her fingers with his over her ribs. “For her, really… She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Simon just held her tighter and pressed his lips to hers, moving on top of her with a familiar weight as she deepened the kiss. And Demi knew without a doubt that whatever else happened, in that moment, she’d made it home.

Forbidden - Part 3 (Dimon Romantic)

The story can also be found on Wattpad You can find the previous chapters here Feedback is greatly appreciated. I went to the bathroom and finally took the much needed shower from the night before. The whole dorm was still densely filled with the smoky-alcoholic scent so I also made sure to open all the windows and doors to get some fresh air in there. “Got any suggestions where to go?” – I yelled through the bathroom door before starting the shower. “How does Starbucks sound?” – Chelle replied from her room. “Works for me.” – I said back and proceeded to wash my body Starbucks was both Chelle and I’s favorite spot for a morning coffee, the café was located in a very nice area, quite close to the centre and was easy to get there on foot from the dorm. The smell there was also blissful, nothing better than a banana cake to match the strong coffee aroma. It was the best time to go out and sit there, especially on such sunny days when the tables outside were available. On the not so bright side though, we could only go there like 2 times per week without going bankrupt. I love those guys but man, are they an expensive place. At the end of the day, I am a student and that meant being on a strict budget and having zero freedom. I put my hair in a high ponytail, and quickly put on a pair of jeans and my favorite oversized t-shirt saying “I’m sorry for what I said when I was hungry”, a present from my sister Dallas, the second biggest weirdo on this planet after me. I noticed I also had dark circles under my eyes, so now the choice was either for some make up or for the big sunglasses. “Demi, are you ready?” – I hear Chelle asking, meaning she was done with her preparations. Well, it will be the sunglasses, then. “Yup, a second” – I replied, putting the last few pins on my hair and spraying a bit of perfume around my neck. “Okay, let’s go” – I told her, letting go of my door handle and going to the front door. The way to the café was a short 10-minute long walk, but we could still notice some leftovers from the few parties that were hosted yesterday. The most common type of garbage was the occasional McDonalds’ huge paper bag or Subway’s sandwich wraps and napkins. It looked as if the rubbish bags were out of stock in this country, a horrible mess. We reached the coffee shop and picked a nice cozy table in the corner on the right. Thankfully not too many people had come yet so the tables outside were still not all taken. Our seats weren’t in the middle of the hustle and bustle if I may call it like that, yet they were also close to the inner part of the café so we wouldn’t need to walk too much with the purchases in our hands. Chelle and I sat on the table and we both started flipping the pages of the menus, as if we didn’t know it all by heart by now. I was certainly gonna be having a frappe today, it was hot AF and the alcohol was still running in my system, so I was sweating like a mine worker. Not the biggest fan of ice coffee, but the situation was of a pressing matter. I turned a few pages further, the breakfast items didn’t look too bad either, the question was if I was actually hungry or just wanted to have a snack though. I thought about having a coffee cake, but that usually bloated me up a lot, so I would rather have the white chocolate chip cookie. It was not too heavy and it usually did cover me well when the sweet tooth hit me with cravings, so I was good with it. “Alright, I can go in there and get the stuff, can you stay here and keep the table?” – Chelle asked a few minutes later. “Yeah that’s cool. Can you get me a frappe and a chocolate chip cookie, with white chocolate chunks though?” “Sure, be right back. Watch my stuff there.” “Here, take 10, should be just enough” – I handed her the bill. Chelle went inside and I plopped myself back on my chair. The day was beautiful; lots of the students from our uni or the few others in town were out as well. Sunday was the day of procrastination and it did hold a very truthful rule for students: If you put it off for Sunday, it won’t happen, dude. At some point a pretty loud noise for my still hangover head came from the road. I turned around to see a black car pull over on the other side of the street. It was a type of car that was pretty rare to notice in Boston or in the states in general, quite low over the road and with a foreign registration plate. It did resemble a very familiar car that I had definitely paid attention to before. If you’d ever watched “Gone in 60 seconds”, then you would know it too – a British Jaguar. How did I know? That was Marissa’s favorite movie and therefore my least favorite one, because we’d watched it like a billion times. The only difference here was that this car was a lot newer – a model I couldn’t name for sure. I kept my gaze on and saw the person on the driving seat fidgeting with something and then opening the door. The driver stepped out, but kept his head towards the car. It seemed as if he was looking for something, until he finally found it and grabbed it from inside. I wondered what it was like to have that much money and to be able to afford such comfort. Surely I was now in a position where finances were not the greatest developing aspect of my life, but that would change later on hopefully. I would love to buy stuff without having to look at the price tag and not worry about it. Just to be impulsive, like: a Jaguar? Yes, please. That car was worth about a million dollars last time I checked. I re-focused my look over to the driver and realized I had seen this man before. Not only that, I had actually known him and already spoken to him. That was Mr. Cowell, my Music Production lecturer. And also the man whose car - probably one of his many, I kicked. And if that wasn’t awkward enough, the man I had the audacity to call ‘a fool’. He was very casually dressed this time – in just a white t-shirt and some jeans, no trace of the formal black blazer he was wearing at the university. He was also wearing a pair of dark ray-bans and was puffing on a cigarette, whilst slowly making his way to internal part of the café. At this point I actually wondered what the best thing to do was: hide from him behind my bag, bury my face in my phone and pretend I never saw him, greet him with a simple nod or step into the dangerous zone of another possible embarrassment and talk to him. In case you wondered why would I talk to him – because I wanted to apologize!? If my math was right, he would be my lecturer for quite some time, and feeling this awkward for so long was something I’d rather pass. Anyway, the problem here was that instead of actually following one of the scenarios I thought of, I was doing probably the worst I could have right now – I was looking, actually I was staring at him as if I was bewitched, with my mouth slightly opened and my chin propped onto the fingers of my hand. Good thing was I was still wearing my sunglasses and so was he, so there was still a chance he didn’t just catch me watching him like some weirdo. He reached the entrance of the café, took the cigarette off his mouth and dogged it in an ashtray on a nearby table on the porch. Once he pinched it off, he carefully lifted his gaze and for a moment looked into my direction. My immediate reaction was to look down for good 3-4 seconds, only to make my sunglasses fall down and hear the cracking sound of them hitting the ground. So much for your strategies, Demetria. I clumsily moved the table to pick them up and saw he was getting inside once I did. My face went deep red; could this have gone any more wrong? I silently hoped there was someone else his eyes were on, but when I looked around, there was no one neither behind me nor closer than 2 tables away. So chances were somewhere between very small and absolute zero. “Sorry I took so long, but there is such a long line, and oh they wrote my name wrong on the cup, so they had to change it…” – Chelle said coming to me, almost out of breath, putting the purchases on our table and taking her seat. “There you go with your drink and the cookie” – She said again, handing me my items. “Thanks Chelle.” - I said kind of distracted. “Since when are you a fan of frappes?” – She asked me. “Yeah I’m not but now it is a bit hot so I will try it out.” – I said, taking my sunglasses off and waving my hand to bring some wind to my still heated face. “Are you alright? You look nervous.” – Chelle asked. “No, nothing” – I replied, mixing my drink with the straw. A few minutes later I saw Mr. Cowell coming out on the porch from the inside part of the café, carrying two cups of coffee, only this time it was not just him, now he was accompanied by a tall blond female. She was wearing a short grey skirt and a top that was outlining her boobs quite clearly. She looked as if she was taken straight out of a magazine cover. I wondered if this was the type of women he was into. They made their way outside and quickly chose their seats, a single table distance across from us. I was facing her back and his seat was positioned in a way that we both could see each other directly. I now started to regret taking my shades off. “Dems, come on, what is it? You seem kind of lightheaded.” – Chelle asked me once again. “How come?” “You seem to not even be listening to me?” “I am, sorry, it is just…” – I said uncomfortably, looking at Simon’s table and then back at her. “What?” “I will tell you, but promise me you won’t look” – I warned in a very quiet voice. “Not look at what?” “Shhh! Okay, Mr. Cowell is sitting right across our table” “What? Where? ” – Chelle asked a lot louder than I would’ve preferred. A few people from the other tables turned their heads towards us. “Don’t shout, he’s going to hear you! There, right behind you.” - I yell-whispered at her. Chelle slowly turned her head, pretending to be fixing her hair and noticed him along with the woman that was sat on the same table. “Woah, talking about appropriate skirts” – She commented, lifting her eyebrows in amusement. “I know.” – I replied, doing the same grimace. “Are you alright?” – She asked me. “Sure, just surprised, though” – I shrugged my shoulders. “Anyway, so tell me about the guy from yesterday, he texted you in the morning didn’t he?” – I asked her, pointing at her phone. Although I had no interest in the guy she hooked up with yesterday, I knew I had to change the topic. I couldn’t possibly talk about Simon the whole afternoon; I mean who talked about their lecturers all the time? Not even geeks did. I asked Chelle more about him, letting her show me photos of them together from last night and share some unnecessary details for me to know. She was quite caught up onto the subject, and despite the fact I should have probably listened to her, I didn’t. I was barely paying attention to her and was occasionally nodding just to confirm I was a part of the conversation. My mind was busy with the man sitting on the table behind my friend. There were two factors creeping into my head constantly though: One was the common sense, telling “He is your lecturer” and two was the guilt, following with “Why is your lecturer such interest to you?” I mean how should I even define this? In general I have always been quite an impulsive person, so yelling at him on that first day we met was no surprise. Okay, the following actions were a bit too aggressive, I take that. But now what? He was offended, didn’t like me, like any other person also wouldn’t. I, on the other hand, was apparently feeling homesick; having the guy I’m in love with thousands of miles away from me, I was looking for comfort. Man’s comfort. That was the only reason behind my strange thoughts. In the meantime I noticed both Simon and the woman stood up. He pointed at the engine to her and motioned that he was going to join after going inside first. She quickly nodded and walked towards the car, whilst he went for the café bar. I followed him with my eyes before turning to Chelle. “Excuse me for a bit.” – I told her and adjusted my shirt. “Where are you going?” – She questioned surprised. “To the bathroom, be right back”- I said, leaving my seat. I got inside the café bar and saw Simon standing at the counter, placing an order for a take out. I pretended to be looking at the cakes behind the glass, standing a few feet away from him. In my ideal world, he would have turned around; I would have greeted him politely, maybe make some small talk and bring him under a somewhat good impression of me. Actually any impression that was better than the one of being a rude, aggressive bitch I had given. That was my goal right now. In reality though, after receiving his order, he was way too busy fixing the 5 items on his hands to pay any attention to me. He kept his head down the whole time, careful not to drop anything on the floor. He passed by me and did not acknowledge me even one bit, his eyes focused on the drinks. He had two drinks in each hand and a cake, which he supported against his chest. He was also mumbling something to himself while looking down, something I couldn’t fully figure out, but it was along the lines “yeah I can carry the office drinks, don’t help me”. Needless to say, I was quite disappointed of not getting the chance to talk to him. I did try to I don’t know, establish some kind of a contact, but it didn’t go as planned. To be honest, it was probably not only the lack of luck, but also the fact that he most likely didn’t want to talk to me. I couldn’t blame him, though. Perhaps it was for the better. Asking for his attention wasn’t a good idea, regardless. As I was about to make my way out to the table and Chelle, I accidentally noticed something, which looked like a small folder, standing by the edge of the counter. I looked over to the staff members, but neither of the them had noticed it yet. I guessed it was because it was left on the front side of the bar. I slowly approached the counter to see it was an open leather wallet. My first thought was to hand it over to the bartender and say I found a lost belonging. Probably what every normal human being would have done. Probably what I should have done. Instead, I decided to check it out on my own first, without giving it much of a thought. I squinted my eyes to see the beholder's name over the documents, only to confirm the doubts I'd had. On the front side of the wallet there was a driver's license, along with a photo and personal details of the beholder - Simon Philip Cowell. This time the question in my head was judged way less by morality and more by motivation. “What are you going to do about it?”

The Royal Ranger 3: Duel at Araluen

I just read the 3rd book in the Royal Ranger series! The main protagonists in this are Maddie, Glian, Horace, and Cassandra. It was definitely a nice and easy read before bed, and I stayed up late last night to finish it (a total of two nights to read). There were cool battles, and a lot of mention of coffee.

One thing that I found interesting is that Flanagan head-hops a lot, but in the context of the story, it works well: it definitely gives that “movie” feel where you get the points of view of multiple characters. And despite all the cartoon-villianish deaths, the story is pretty light, and I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say that things work out.

Spoilers and other stuff below.

The main characters were all pretty awesome (and maybe very overpowered compared to the other characters). When you stop suspending disbelief, there are, of course, all the little things that I could have been done better.

For one, I found what looked like a typo on the second page (that, or the formatting was bad).

Aside from Dimon, the main villain, the secondary villain is the commander/general holding seige to the hill fort Gilan and Horace are stuck at. The general feels a bit flat and 2D. And the narration is basically like “this guy is stupid”. And Dimon seems to...slip as the story goes on? In the second book, when we first met him, Dimon is quite charismatic. But we don’t get to see that in this book (we only get told that he is charismatic).

The “joke” about Maddie’s hand being stepped on (from the previous book) was mentioned way too often, by Maddie and by the other Rangers. But Maddie’s mention of having a full meal before going out sneaking was a nice one: you can’t control when your stomach grumbles!!

The Heron brotherband features heavily in the story: they basically swoop in to help save Horance and Gilan. I haven’t read all of the Brotherband series, and I actually find this a little annoying, in that there’s no clear timeline between the Brotherband and Rangers books, and so no clear “what is necessary to read first”. Obvs, the Heron brotherband are overpowered (and all the enemies are scared of them), but they are definitely fun to have around.

It’s mentioned a lot of times that Cassandra is not actually the Queen yet, despite Duncan’s illness. Duncan gets up and is more lively and he goes about advising Cassandra. But honestly, I was disappointed that Duncan didn’t abdicate the throne to Cassandra: it’s clear that Duncan is old and that it would be better for Cassandra’s position for the country to actually see her as their ruler. And it would have been good if Cassandra could tour the kingdom, again for everyone to actually understand that she’s the Queen, and to (hopefully) help things like the Red Fox Clan to not rise up again.

The main last pet-peeve I have is Cassandra’s fight with Dimon right at the end (VERY SPOILER: though, it’s in the title...but the scene itself is not very hyped up at all). It’s mentioned, multiple times, that since Cassandra is a woman, she can never ever be as strong as Dimon. I’m just like, UGH. NO. If she trained heaps, it’s definitely possible. However, it is just unlikely since as a princess, she’s pretty busy. Her end feint was pretty cool though.

And then, finally, right at the end, we see Will. Halt and Will had been off on the other side of Araluen while this is all happening. And the ending...is kinda weird. Like, Maddie’s asking Will if he’s proud of her. And, okay, it just feels really patronising, especially since it was the ending of the book.

I think my idea of the ending being Cassandra crowed as queen would have been a lot cooler, but oh well. At the end of it all, the Royal Ranger is about Maddie foremost, and therefore should end on Maddie.

*

So, sure, I have things about it that I thought ehhh, but it’s still a really compelling story, and the actions scenes are very engaging, and the overpoweredness is fantastic and had me grinning at times.

JPMorgan Shakes Up the Race to Succeed Jamie Dimon In a position to succeed? JPMorgan Chase announced a major management shuffle yesterday, renewing chatter about a hotly debated topic on Wall Street: Who will succeed Jamie Dimon as C.E.O.? The changes may also pave the way for a woman to lead the United States’ largest bank. Here’s the rundown: Marianne Lake, the bank’s head of consumer lending, and Jennifer Piepszak, its chief financial officer, will become joint heads of the consumer and community bank, effective immediately. Gordon Smith, who has run the bank’s consumer operation since 2012 and served as co-chief operating officer and co-president since 2018, said he would retire at the end of the year. Daniel Pinto will become JPMorgan’s sole president and C.O.O. (and remains the head of the corporate and investment bank), and Jeremy Barnum will succeed Lake as C.F.O. The moves solidify Lake and Piepszak as contenders for C.E.O. The executives, both 51, are now in charge of a business that takes in more than $50 billion per year in revenue. In a memo to staff, Dimon praised Lake and Piepszak as “superb executives who are both examples of our extremely talented and deep management bench.” Dimon, 65, took his role as the bank’s C.E.O. in late 2005, making him the longest-tenured big bank chief. “The board has said it would like Jamie to remain in his role for a significant number of years,” Joe Evangelisti, a JPMorgan spokesman, said in a statement. The new setup creates an unusual situation in which two executives competing for the top job share a leadership role. That may be tricky to navigate, management experts say, and whether it’s a good test of leadership skills is debatable. Co-management can be hard to pull off. In a 2012 paper, Ryan Krause of the Neeley School of Business at Texas Christian University examined how sharing power impacted the performance of public companies. Estimating the relative power of co-C.E.O.s using proxies such as tenure and stock ownership, he and his co-authors concluded that executives who had more equal levels of power performed worse than those with disproportionate power. “We interpret this as being evidence that, basically, having co-C.E.O.s really only works if they’re not really co-C.E.O.s,” Krause told DealBook. Co-leaders of a division, he said, may be more successful because they can more easily divide responsibilities instead of sharing authority. Such setups are not uncommon at JPMorgan. It could highlight the ability to work collaboratively, said Steve Odland, the head of the Conference Board and the former C.E.O. of Office Depot and AutoZone. “Whenever you’re in a C.E.O. successor position, it’s difficult because there are a lot of things that have to go right and you’re under the microscope,” Odland said. “But to do so with your competitor, and have to compete with your co-head, at the same time you’re making it work is especially stressful. Which is why it’s an interesting test, because the person who succeeds at this should be amply able to succeed in the C.E.O. role.” Is it a good idea? Dan Ciampa, an adviser to C.E.O.s and directors during leadership transitions, said that he wouldn’t recommend such a test (speaking generally, and not about JPMorgan specifically). “It may make sense to have co-division leaders or co-unit leaders and maybe even co-C.E.O.s,” he said. “But to use that as a way to determine who the next person should be to run the entire organization, to me it says that the board and the sitting C.E.O. and the head of H.R. have probably not done their homework.” Flashback: One sign of Dimon’s long tenure at JPMorgan is measured by a famous cover of Fortune magazine from Sept. 2008, featuring him and seven of his top lieutenants, headlined “The Survivors.” When Smith retires, Dimon will be the only person on the cover left at the bank. HERE’S WHAT’S HAPPENING AT&T investors sour on the WarnerMedia-Discovery deal. Shares in AT&T fell nearly 6 percent yesterday (and are down again premarket today), as shareholders reckoned with the possibility that the spinout of its media arm would expose issues at its core wireless business — and lead to a smaller dividend. Bank of America will raise its minimum wage to $25 an hour by 2025. The announcement cements the lender’s status as a leader on pay in the banking industry: In 2019, it was one of the first to guarantee a $20 hourly wage, a goal it achieved a year ahead of schedule. Amazon indefinitely bans the police from using its facial-recognition software. The company extended a moratorium imposed last year amid the nationwide protests over racial injustice and biased policing. Though critics have said that the technology leads to unfair treatment of African-Americans, Amazon has defended the product’s accuracy. More signs of life in retail. Target reported a 23 percent jump in sales for the first quarter from a year ago, as shoppers returned to stores. It joined Macy’s and Walmart in surpassing analysts’ estimates. Also, a reminder: Most pandemic restrictions in New York City end today. Today in Business Updated  May 18, 2021, 9:07 p.m. ET The criminal investigation into the Trump Organization widens. The office of New York’s attorney general, which has been running a civil inquiry into the Trump family company, joined the Manhattan attorney general’s criminal investigation into potential financial crimes, including tax and bank fraud. Bitcoin’s wild ride The largest cryptocurrency’s price is down sharply again today, leaving it 40 percent lower than its mid-April high. (Other cryptocurrencies — even Dogecoin! — are similarly suffering.) As usual, there are a few potential culprits: Chinese regulators issued a stern warning to financial institutions (again) not to accept cryptocurrency as payment. Elon Musk’s U-turn on Bitcoin is continuing to roil investors’ appetite for the currency. Some industry executives said such pullbacks were “normal” in crypto. That said … Bitcoin is still up more than 30 percent for the year, Ethereum nearly 300 percent and Dogecoin more than 8,000 percent. A lot of investors are feeling plenty flush, for now; more on that below. “There’s been such an erosion of trust, distrust for government, distrust for the virus, distrust for this party or that party. So when you tell the public what to do, there are people who say, ‘How can I trust the guy without the mask?’” — Dr. Howard Markel, a medical historian at the University of Michigan, on how the new mask guidelines from the C.D.C. have created a complicated vaccination honor code. The business case for better care policies JPMorgan Chase, McDonald’s, Spotify, Uber and almost 200 other businesses announced today that they have formed a coalition focused on “reimagining” the United States’ “caregiving infrastructure.” The coalition, called the Care Economy Business Council, is a strong signal that fixing the crumbling care systems for children and older people is essential to the economic recovery. The new group will pressure Congress to pass policies that enable workers — particularly women — to get back to work. Led by Time’s Up, the advocacy group formed by powerful women in Hollywood, the council is demanding federally funded family and medical leave, affordable child care and care for older relatives, and higher wages for caregiving workers. “What I’m seeing now that I have not seen in the many years I’ve been working on this constellation of issues is a realization by employers that they have a stake in this,” said Tina Tchen, the chief executive of Time’s Up. The pandemic laid bare the caregiving sector’s limits, particularly in child care. Many providers either shuttered or cut back on hours, leaving parents without a reliable and safe space for their children while they worked. That was a major reason that hundreds of thousands of women left the work force in the past year, bringing the female labor participation rate to the lowest level since the 1980s. For many executives, the crisis made clear that the entire system needed an overhaul, as companies scrambled to cobble together solutions such as flexible work hours and additional child care stipends. The issue is “bigger than something we can solve on our own,” said Christy Pambianchi, the chief human resources officer at Verizon, a member of the council. President Biden’s two-part infrastructure plan proposes pumping $425 billion into the child care industry and an additional $400 billion to expand in-home care for older adults and those with disabilities. The plan also offers businesses a tax credit for building child care centers in their workplaces. Philanthropies bank crypto windfalls Charities have an inherent interest in cryptocurrencies because, increasingly, their fates are intertwined. Nonprofits benefit from financial windfalls and recently people have been getting rich with crypto. “There’s no question” that the price of cryptocurrency is linked to the volume of giving, said Joe Huston, the managing director of Give Directly, a global aid group. Crypto is volatile, especially lately, but philanthropies have seen consistent growth in digital asset donations over time. Fidelity Charitable reported that crypto giving went from $13 million in 2018 to $28 million in 2020. Give Directly has seen a “big uptick,” Huston told DealBook. The Twitter founder Jack Dorsey gave the group $12.8 million, the co-founder of the Ethereum platform Vitalik Buterin donated $4.8 million and Elon Musk of Tesla gave “some.” The cryptocurrency exchange FTX donates one percent of its fees and encourages traders to channel returns to charity. But newfound riches donated in novel ways raise questions. Buterin recently gave $1.2 billion dollars to fund Covid relief efforts in India. The gift was in SHIB, a crypto token named after a Shiba Inu dog that’s a derivative of the onetime joke crypto Dogecoin. These tokens were sent unbidden to Buterin to bolster their value. His approach in giving them away was “impressively lightweight and fast,” Huston said, showing how frictionless crypto-based philanthropy can be. Previously, it was unimaginable to transfer such an enormous sum without an institutional intermediary. “There are a lot of young people with stupid amounts of money,” said Austin Detwiler, a consultant at American Philanthropic, a consulting firm. Fund-raisers should facilitate giving from this new generation, mindful that “it’s easy to start accepting crypto, but it’s volatile, so have a policy,” he said. THE SPEED READ Deals Robinhood plans to publicly disclose its I.P.O. filings as soon as next week. (Bloomberg) A firm founded by the son of China’s vice premier has reportedly become one of the country’s most aggressive investors in tech companies. (FT) Politics and policy How electric pickups — like the Ford F-150 that President Biden tested yesterday — are a key part of the White House’s infrastructure plans. (NYT) The Senate is considering a bill that would pour $120 billion into research in semiconductors and other technologies to counter China’s supply chain dominance. (NYT) Tech The e-commerce lender Klarna, one of Europe’s most valuable tech start-ups, said its decision on a London I.P.O. depends on Britain’s rolling out relaxed fintech rules. (Bloomberg) The Financial Conduct Authority, a British regulator, warned 300 fintech start-ups to stop misleading customers by comparing themselves to fully fledged banks. (FT) Best of the rest Demand for WeWork office space has now surpassed prepandemic levels, according to its chairman. (Bloomberg) Bill Gates has disclosed over $3 billion in stock transfers to Melinda French Gates since they announced their divorce. (WSJ) “Hertz, the Original Meme Stock, Rewards Its True Believers” (WSJ) We’d like your feedback! Please email thoughts and suggestions to [email protected]. Source link Orbem News #Dimon #Jamie #JPMorgan #Race #Shakes #succeed

Rowena was preparing for a spell to end a rival coven. Granted this was taking a lot of magic since she was planning to kill seven other witches at once; but it needed to be done. They were posing a threat to the throne of Hell and of course she couldn't have someone swooping in and stealing it from under her. Just as she was beginning to concentrate she heard a knock at the door. She let out an annoyed huff. "You better have a good reason for this interruption." She yelled.

There is a short skinny white girl at the door that is white 4'11 with golden hazel eyes, pixie hair cut with sparkaley ripped skinny jeans on,ac/dc shirt on, galaxy nails, natural mack up on, small dimon earing, ear cuff on her ear, small crescent moon nose percing and black combat boots that comes up to her knees. She looks at Rowena with a smirks looking at rowena "So your the famous Rowena that I've be hearing so much about and may I say you are quite the talk of the witch community. All they talk about is how merciless and cunning you are. I'm here because I've heard form witches your the center of attention at the moment with rivals and I came to see how I could help?"

WHAT IS COMMON AMONG TOP CEOs?

COMMON AMONG TOP CEOs? 

INTRODUCTION

Some of the most influential people like Sundar Pichai, Satya Nadella, Tim Cook, Jamie Dimon are the most respected, looked upon, and powerful people. They are the ones who create a strategy, a vision and communicate it effectively. They are the ones who build a team and make sure the company executes the plan and has enough capital. They are none other than the CEOs.The chief executive officer of a company is the much appreciated, celebrated, and authoritative person of any organization. There are a few powerful and unique traits these people possess that have paved the way for their success.

QUALITIES OF CEO

Managing their EGO: They are wise people and know how to manage their EGO. Of course, they are determined people with some EGO without which they would have been able to reach the position they are currently in.

Touch of humility: They care for their people and always consider the people around them before making crucial decisions. They are generous and have a touch of humility.

Delegation: Delegating tasks is something that is a must-have leadership quality and our top CEOs are excellent in that. They are extremely driven and keep the team going.

CEO practice optimism: Staying pessimistic all the time is quite impossible for anyone. They do stay a pessimistic maximum of the time and are self equipped to handle negativity and comfortable in confronting contradictions. A positive mental attitude is something that takes a long time to develop and retain. These people are great role models for us to aspire and learn to hold a positive mental attitude. Their goal-directed behavior is one of the crucial ingredients to their recipe of success. They are good leaders and not bosses which has a significant difference. They concentrate on being productive rather than being busy. Gary Miliefsky, CEO of SnoopWall, shares his habit of kicking his day off with a strong positive attitude and gratitude.

Unique ideas: Thinking out of the box is another innovative trait these powerful men and women have developed. They always provide creative and highly efficient ideas to resolve any issue A great example of this is the outrageous ideas proposed by Elon Musk, the CEO of SpaceX. He believes and is religiously working in bringing his ideas like colonizing Mars and making space tourism possible through his organization Spacex which is too close to make this a reality.

Great at asking questions: Asking questions is great but a lot of people are good at this, what makes the CEOs stand out is that they are great at asking the right question that solves the bigger issue or resolves most of the issues providing a clearer solution. This is something they excel in.

Upskilling: They keep upskilling, learning, exploring, and raising their standards. They are always prepared to widen their horizons. They never stop learning and always want more. Michael Bruch, the founder and the CEO of Willow believes that feeling informed is important. He says he manages to spend at least an hour enjoying the technological news on Twitter.

Build allies: They always build strong allies and ready to work together to create a win-win situation. They are multilingual. This doesn’t mean they speak different languages. They very well know how to speak to people of different cadre. They always speak appropriately and differently with their family, employees, salesperson, ambassador, and the media.

Self-analyzing themselves periodically: They are organized, have a fixed schedule, and religiously follow that. They are aware that their strengths have bought them to this peak yet they are self-aware of their weaknesses and work to fix them. They are also aware of what they don’t know which is significant to improve and enhance themselves and work in their betterment constantly. Adaptability is another great quality they have, they can adapt to changes quickly and they welcome changes.

Health is wealth: They realize the importance of their health and ensure they maintain good physical and mental health. They watch what they eat. They always take their meals on time besides their busy schedule. They make their health a priority. They also maintain good and sound mental well being by practicing meditation. They always have a separate space where they do not think about their job, relax, and refresh themselves. They are physically active. They practice yoga, workout, play a sport, cycle, or just walk consistently.

Welcome changes: They are always open to changes and welcome them with a positive attitude. They are always ready to try new things and easily adapt to the changes. Acceptance is a notable quality we need to pick up from these great icons. Acceptance helps them to face challenges easily.

Spend time on their hobbies: the secret to their efficiency and success is that they are balanced and work on keeping their mind fresh and preparing for big events by allotting time regularly to pursue the hobbies that make them happy, inspires, and helps them be productive. Focusing on another activity for a particular duration will help them declutter their mind and when they get back to work they take their fresh and stress-free minds.

Punctual: “A task well begun, is well done”. Punctuality is such a critical quality yet difficult to practice. These people have mastered the art of being punctual and they utilize their time effectively.

CONCLUSION

There are a lot of common qualities between successful CEOs yet not all are the same. They have these qualities in different yet right proportions . We all look at their fame now but is a lot of hard work and behind these success stories. Though they are special in their way these are some of the qualities possessed by the top CEOs.

The market is full of people trying to make it big in the game. And since there is a ton of competition out there you better want yourself to be ahead of others. And You can find such important information for SMEs, sales, and market-related strategies and a lot of such blogs which will help you to be ahead of others with us on Insellers

Caelán sat at the bar. It was greasy to the touch, so he tried not to come in contact with it as he swished his whiskey. He didn’t even like whiskey.

The buzz of music and conversation was, oddly enough, more stress-relieving than the alcohol at the moment. There was something nice about being in a place so full and humming and dirty. The mansion was always kept spotless; a good thing, normally, but lately it had started to drive him insane.

Sakina was always buzzing around, talking about her ideas for the kingdom. She had so many. Caelán still didn’t know why she’d turned down the chance to be queen. He wasn’t making a very good king, after all. Sakina’s role as his advisor basically meant that she was queen though, since he generally did whatever she suggested without a second thought.

The issue currently on the table however... that was a different issue.

The song changed and a boisterous group of clearly already-intoxicated dimons stumbled into the bar, one of them singing some sort of shanty at the top of her lungs.

Caelán watched as the obvious designated driver of the group herded her friends towards a table. One boy away before she could stop him. He dropped heavily into a bar stool a few feet away, laid his head on the bar, and apparently fell asleep. The bartender sighed.

Sakina wanted to mend relations between the Dark and Light kingdoms.

She thought that, if they could get the darklings on their side, they would be strong enough to challenge the tyrannical satan of Hell. If they could manage that, she reasoned, they would ally themselves with the majority of dimons, and conflict between the Dark and Light kingdoms would be stamped out almost entirely. Logically, the plan made sense.

Still, Cae had his reservations. He’d seen the violence of dimons, and while those in the bar currently were clearly not there to start a fight, he didn’t know what they’d do if he revealed himself to be a lightsome.

He glanced over at the sleeping dimon. His sober friend had left the rest of the group to their own devices and was gently trying to shake him awake. He woke up a little and, at a few words from his friend, nodded and allowed himself to be half-carried outside, presumably to go home. As he watched them leave, Caelán felt eyes burning into the back of his head.

He turned back to his mostly-full whiskey glass. Out of the corner of his eye, Cae could see movement. Someone dark-haired socializing in a big group in the far corner of the bar kept glancing at him.

Trying to get a better look, Cae turned a little and, in a devastating accident, caught the man’s eye. Predictably, the man made his way over.

Feeling a little ill, Caelán looked pointedly in the opposite direction.

“You’re a little uppity to be hanging around here,” the stranger said. A smirk spread across his face. Cae couldn’t keep himself from meeting his eyes. They were dark and Caelán was uncomfortable.

“I come here all the time,” he lied, hoping he sounded dismissive.

“Mmm, no I don’t think you do. I’m here at least twice a week and I’ve never seen your mug.” The man’s smirk grew into a kinder smile.

“That’s a little sad, isn’t it?” Cae mumbled. He didn’t mean for the man to hear it, but evidently he did, because he chuckled.

“Yeah, maybe.” Then he added, “I’m Meirion, by the way.”

Caelán took his extended hand and shook it.

“It’s a pleasure,” he said a little wryly. Meirion laughed again.

“What, I don’t get a name from you?” he asked. Before Caelán had time to decide on a fake name to tell him he said, “That’s fine, I don’t need one.”

Caelán sighed, relieved. He was an awful liar.

Meirion reached across Cae, arm brushing his chest a little, and stole the whiskey. He took a long sip. He snorted at Caelán’s scandalised look.

“What? I’ve been watching you all night, you aren’t drinking it.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Cae watched more keenly than he was comfortable admitting as Meirion finished the drink in two more gulps. When he was done, he placed the glass gently on the table and met Caelán’s eyes again, an odd expression on his face.

Clearly, he’d noticed Cae watching him.

“So where are you from, Mr. No-Name?” he asked. It sounded like an idle question, so Caelán took the opportunity to give an idle response.

“You know, around.”

Meirion raised an eyebrow.

“Not too far from here.”

“You’re quite the bundle of well-kept secrets, Blue,” Meirion said, a little more softly than anything else so far.

Upon hearing the nickname, Caelán’s hand instinctively touched his long cobalt hair.

“Not really,” Cae said.

“Yeah, not really,” Meirion agreed. That response should have concerned Cae, but somehow it didn’t.

They held each other’s gaze for an extended moment.

“So,” Caelán said, straightening up and glancing at the sticky bar for a moment. “what brings you here twice a week?”

Meirion was about to answer, but Cae kept talking.

“Marital problems? Financial hardship? A severe addiction to sub-par whiskey?”

The bartender shot him a dirty look. Meirion chuckled.

“A desire to escape my tiny corner of the galaxy, I’d say.”

“I see.”

“Much like you,” Meirion added.

Cae rolled his eyes. “Well sure, but only because that’s the only reason anyone comes to a bar so far out of the way from Hell. What exactly are you escaping from? That’s the question.”

Meirion, apparently taking a leaf out of Cae’s book, evaded the question.

“Hm, maybe,” he said, addressing the first half of Caelán’s speech, “but you’re not from Hell.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A fact. And it was enough to make Caelán nervous. Technically speaking, this bar was in Hell. It was in enemy territory and filled to the brim with dimons.

“Well I-”

“It’s not hard to spot a lightsome in a room full of dimons, dude,” Meirion said with a grin.

Caelán put his face in his hands.

“Ugh, everyone can tell?” he asked, voice muffled. Meirion rubbed his shoulder soothingly, barely holding back a laugh as he spoke.

“Not everyone, just like, twenty percent of us.”

“Ugh, I really can’t get away, can I?” Cae groaned.

“Sure you can. You’re here, aren’t you?” Meirion nudged him. “Why not get a little wild?”

There was something just a tad suggestive in that. Caelán looked up in disbelief.

“You’re kidding.”

“I am, in fact not.”

“I can’t hook up with a dimon, Meirion.”

“Sure you can! I’ve done it plenty.”

“Shut up.”

“Now what if I said ‘make me’?”

Let’s Ruin the Friendship

A/N: Don’t remember writing it, but rereading was certainly an adventure! In which Dimon are besties and also in love, and it’s extremely fluffy . 

Demi wasn’t even all that surprised anymore to come home to the lights already on. The key she’d once given Simon for a legitimate and temporary use in her first year as an X Factor judge had been one she’d never actually gotten back, and sometimes she swore he spent more time in her apartment than he did in his own home.

“What are you doing here?” she sighed, trying not to be irritated with him as she closed the door behind her and slid off her coat. Normally she would have welcomed his presence, but the entire day had already rubbed her the wrong way and she didn’t really feel up to dealing with anyone, even him.

Simon was in the living room, laid out on her couch like he belonged with a bundle of papers in his lap and his glasses on. She’d always liked him in those glasses, not that she’d ever tell him that. He glanced up at her and wrinkled his eyebrows slightly. “Not very welcoming, brat. I did order dinner, you know.”

Demi perked up slightly in spite of herself, moving into the kitchen to set down her handbag on the counter for the time being. “Thai?”

“Obviously,” Simon replied, returning to the documents on his lap.

Demi made her way into the living area, shoving unceremoniously at his sock-covered feet and reaching for the remote. “Oh, move over, old man,”

He huffed something unintelligible at her, but obliged, shuffling his contracts and then pulling his legs up long enough for her to sit before promptly depositing them back in her lap with a smirk.

Demi made a noise of exaggerated disgust and glared at him, pushing at his ankles until he gave in and rearranged himself to give her space.

“Oh, come on darling, I live here too,”

She reached for the remote and ignored him, flipping aimlessly through channels. “You do not. One of these days I’m going to take that key back.”

“You wouldn’t,” Simon returned triumphantly. “I bring you dinner.”

“I may not be as ridiculously rich as you are, but I think I can afford to buy my own takeout,” Demi said loftily, lifting her chin and pretending to be very interested in a commercial for In-N-Out.

“I have plenty of other qualities, darling.”

Demi held his serious gaze for a moment before cracking, and both of them burst into laughter, Simon not bothering to stifle it the way he did so often on TV. “You are awful,” she finally snorted, smiling brightly in his direction.

“Annoying,” he countered.

“Old.”

“Brat.”

“Grandpa!”

“Gobby.”

“Demanding, gray haired ass--”

“Irritating, unpredictable, moody--”

“I hate you!” Demi complained with no real malice in her voice, pausing suddenly at the sound of her doorbell.

Simon pointed to her door with a wink, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and throwing a pair of $20′s at her. “I bought you dinner.”

Rolling her eyes, Demi uncurled her legs and made her way to the door. “Yeah, but I still have to go get it.”

She smiled politely at the delivery guy, accepting the bags of food and telling him to keep the change. She was already laughing before she’d even gotten the door closed, trying to peer into the white plastic bags in her hands. “Simon, did you order the entire restaurant? What is in here?”

He gave her that preoccupied glance again when she walked back toward him, evidently back to focusing on his work, and shrugged. “You haven’t eaten much lately,” he offered casually, as if it was obvious.

Demi blinked, sitting down rather heavily on the couch and proceeding to stare at him. And you noticed? She wanted to say.

“What?” Simon glanced at her, pausing with his pen between his lips.

“Nothing,” Demi spat out in a hurry, looking down at the food in her lap and busying herself unwrapping it. Finding his usual pad thai near the top, she wordlessly handed it to him and sorted through the rest of the options to pick something to start with herself.

It had been three years since the day Demi had agreed to meet Simon at her apartment for a contract meeting, and slipped her spare key into his hand, sending him around to the back of her building to avoid paparazzi. Working together on the judging panel, their relationship had only solidified from that point, and Demi accepted somewhere around the start of her second season as a judge that she was probably never going to get that key back.

And now that she was back to working on her music full time and touring, and he was dealing with the rest of his reality shows, she’d briefly expected their relationship to fade. Instead, he seemed to exist almost perpetually in one of two places; airports and her couch. Of course, with her having been across the world on tour recently, she wasn’t sure how much time he’d really been spending here, but it wouldn’t surprise her if he was still lurking on her sofa while she was singing in Europe. Demi only really found it strange if she tried to think about it through her most objectively rational lens.

Her family certainly thought it was weird that she was spending so much of her time with a 50 year old man, and Dianna frequently fixed her with a questioning stare and asked her what was going on with him.

The best she could offer was a lame ‘He’s my friend, Mom’, which always made her feel stupid. She had no other explanation, though. No, he wasn’t taking advantage of her. No, they weren’t sleeping together. Unless you counted the handful of times a jetlagged Simon had passed out on her bed. No, nothing was going on.

She just… inexplicably trusted him more than anyone else. She’d rather sit on the couch and watch Netflix and bitch about his feet or head in her lap than go out with other friends. And if rationally she knew it was weird to cuddle up to a man who was neither family nor lover, that the secrecy of a completely innocent friendship only added another layer of strange, that the stray thoughts and dreams that crept in sometimes were decidedly not welcome, she didn’t let on.

Mostly she tried not to be rational.

“So,” Simon said, setting the black plastic bowl of his dinner on the floor beside them. “Are you going to tell me what was bothering you earlier, doll?”

Demi frowned absently, glancing at him briefly. She was still nibbling on her own meal, scrolling through options on Netflix with an expression of concentration. “Huh?”

“You were upset when you got home,” Simon said matter-of-factly, prompting a weird look from Demi.

She’d almost forgotten she’d been in a bad mood, too busy laughing and bantering around with Simon to bother thinking about it. And he hadn’t only erased the problem, but noticed in the first place and made a point to ask. Something fluttered in her chest, and she studiously ignored it, aware all the while that she was currently sharing a sofa with a man that, for all his flaws, was probably better than she deserved. 

“It was stupid,” she mumbled, glancing to her lap briefly and then back to the TV. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Demi,” he prompted softly.

“Oh come on, Simon,” she tried, “I’m always a grumpy brat, aren’t I?”

“Mm, annoying, yes.” He mused. “Brat, yes. Stressed and irritated? Not if I can help it,”

Demi softened at his words, and sighed, settling quickly on an old episode of House of Cards that was still at the top of her watchlist, probably Simon’s fault. “Phil thinks I should add a tour date,” she huffed. “I don’t want to, and he’s pissing me off because he doesn’t want to listen.”

“Add a date where?” Simon murmured. He was still looking down at the paperwork in his lap, but Demi wasn’t fooled. She knew he was still listening to her.

Demi shrugged. “At the end, after France.” She was currently enjoying a break after the last few concerts in the US for the tour, before flying out to France for a single show in September. “He wants to book a concert in Brazil. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Simon looked up at her, fixing her with a look on his face that said he was in manager mode. “Why not?”

Demi pouted. “I don’t want to go to Brazil.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Demi!” When she just sat there petulantly, he sighed, trying to be patient. “What’s wrong with Brazil?”

Phil wants to book it over your birthday and I want to be here but I can’t use that argument because it would be weird. Demi said none of that, opting instead to inarticulately blink at him. “Um.”

“Well obviously he’s not listening to you,” Simon snorted. “You’re objecting to an entire country and you don’t have a reason?”

“It’s in October,” Demi offered lamely. “I thought I’d be done by then.”

“You were supposed to be in Madrid in October, before that one got cancelled,” Simon pointed out. “I’m not surprised Phil wants to add something back, all things considered.”

“Yeah but the Madrid one wasn’t--” Demi started to protest, then cut herself off. “Never mind.”

“Wasn’t what?”

“Never mind, I said.”

“Wasn't what, brat?” he pushed gently, standing with his stack of contracts and moving them to her kitchen table before returning, this time throwing an arm around her shoulders.

Demi sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. They didn’t do this. They were always together and they had no boundaries and they were always doing something or other that really pushed the limits of what defined a normal friendship. But nothing was said, no confessions made. Telling him she wanted to skip Brazil for the sake of his birthday would cross a line she couldn’t take back.

“I was gonna do something with Maddie,” she mumbled, a cop-out. “The Spain date didn’t conflict with it.”

Simon briefly rested his head on top of hers, hugging her a little tighter. “I’m sure your sister will understand, doll. You can just reschedule,”

Demi sighed, snuggling closer and putting her feet over his lap this time. “I guess,” 

“You won’t be missing much anyway,” he tried for levity, as always playing the cocky, I’m-Simon-Cowell card. “I’ll be in London for most of the month, anyway.”

She lifted her head to peer at him, studying his face. “You will?”

Simon just nodded, briefly gesturing to the stack of papers on her table. “Taping for BGT. Though I expect my mum will be happy; I’ll have no excuse not to see her for my birthday.” He grimaced theatrically.

Demi wasn’t sure if she was supposed to feel better or not, but at least it wouldn’t be her fault if they missed each other now. Still, however you looked at it, she wouldn’t be with him, a concept that bothered her rather more than she was willing to admit. She was quietly contemplative, staring blankly ahead of her at the TV while Simon actually watched the episode, tucked into his side and inhaling the familiar scent of cigarettes and mint and, this time, her laundry detergent. The ever present, well-worn white shirt must have been one of the ones he’d left here.

She could deny everything to her mother all she wanted, and technically it was the truth. They were friends, and they weren’t sleeping together, and they both frequently went on dates with other people that somehow always ended up with the two of them in her apartment, complaining about it. But none of that negated the fact that Demi had been pretty sure of for a while now, though she was loathe to admit it even to herself.

She took the opportunity briefly to study Simon’s face. He was unaware of her, absorbed in Netflix and rather adorably focused on the episode. God help me, she thought, I’m falling in love with you.

It was a sobering thought, rather than a happy one, because she knew Simon would never feel the same way about her. He was the sort of man who went after what he wanted, and if he’d ever wanted her he would have done something about it a long time ago. He wouldn’t be hanging around to platonically snuggle with her and generally make a nuisance of himself.

She watched Simon lean back and let Netflix autoplay the next episode, smiling a bit to herself while her eyelids drooped. She was going to get hurt and she knew it. But for now, she was tired and Simon made for a comfortable pillow. She’d worry about the rest of it all later.

***

Demi blinked slowly in the darkness, sleepily half-awake and not quite sure what was going on. She was lying stretched out on the couch, she figured, squashed up against the back of the couch and half-lying on Simon’s chest. The room was completely dark, illuminated only by the dim grey glow of her TV still showing the red Netflix symbol, and she figured it was probably somewhere between three and four am.

She shifted slightly, letting her eyes fall shut again and feeling Simon’s breathing stutter slightly in its rhythm, his hand moving just enough against her back to tell her he was awake too. And she probably should have gotten up then, whispered an apology and slunk off to her bedroom--where he’d probably just follow anyway, stealing the other half of her blankets--but it was nice, and she wanted to be selfish just this once. Odd as it may sound given all of their usual closeness, she’d never actually gotten to sleep like this, and Demi didn’t really feel like giving up the opportunity.

She’d just pretend she was still asleep. She’d fall back to sleep anyway soon enough, she figured. And of course as soon as she thought that, she’d cursed herself to lie restlessly awake in the dark, all of her unbidden thoughts about Simon deciding to race around her skull again.

Demi held in the annoyed huff she wanted to give, still committed to feigning sleep, and tried to find a positive in the situation. At least she’d actually remember the experience of sleeping in Simon’s arms, just this once.

She was fairly certain Simon had fallen back to sleep by now, and she was doing her best to do the same, when his quiet whisper split the silence. “Demi?”

Keeping her breathing even and wondering why she was bothering, Demi said nothing, continuing her Oscar-worthy performance of being asleep and dead to the world. She felt Simon adjust his arms around her, holding her tighter, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her hair.

“Damn it, brat.” he sighed, and Demi wondered if she was squishing him terribly. She was just about to give up her game and sit up when he spoke again, his voice so low she could barely make out the words, even as close as she was to him.

“I love you,”

Demi’s heart skipped several beats, then started racing. She could barely breathe, and she was almost sure he could feel her heartbeat against his own rib cage, but if he knew she was listening, he gave no indication. “I love you,” he repeated in a whisper, sighing softly as if the admission came at great personal cost.

There was a sensation like a balloon swelling up in her chest, and she was starting to smile to herself into his shirt, no longer able to resist responding. Smiling brightly in the darkness and now very much wide awake, Demi popped her head up to prop her chin on his chest, feeling him jump slightly beneath her at her sudden movement.

“You do?”

His hand tightened reflexively on her hip, and she could feel his heart racing under her wrist. “Doll, I--”

“It’s okay, Simon,” she whispered softly, biting her lip and wishing desperately she could see his face better.

“Demi--” he started, sounding suddenly very tired and very defeated. Like he thought he’d just destroyed everything.

“I love you too,” she blurted, wanting so desperately to take that note out of his voice. “It’s okay, Simon… I’m in love with you,” she whispered hesitantly.

Simon went very still, and then she felt his arm leave her back and reach up somewhere behind his head. A switch clicked, and then the lamp on the table beside the couch flared, light momentarily blinding both of them as their eyes adjusted.

Demi blinked rapidly, trying to focus her vision. And the first thing she saw was Simon, tired and rumpled with his hair sticking up and the slight imprint of the hand she’d extended above her in sleep on his jawline, vulnerability and hope flashing across his face.

Propping herself up cutely with her elbows on either side of his chest, she met his eyes with a little smile and a shrug, biting her lip and waiting for a reaction.

A pause that seemed to last an eternity while his brain caught up, and then all at once he yanked her the last few inches up toward him while she squeaked, and crashed his lips against hers.

Demi moaned involuntarily into the kiss, parting her lips for his tongue to trace her mouth and sliding one of her hands up into his hair, her entire body coming alive under his touch.

No one had ever kissed her like this, no one had ever made her feel like this, and she knew all at once that for all her diligent sobriety, this would be one addiction she’d never get over.

Simon sat up with her on his lap, his hands sliding under the loose top she was wearing, breaking the kiss to look at her with a question in his eyes. Demi answered it for him by hastily yanking the shirt over her head and discarding it, leaving her in just a lacy bralette.

And as she reached for the hem of Simon’s own trademark t-shirt, Demi spared one last thought for Phil and the tour. It was getting rescheduled, or better yet, never booked, because she’d be on a flight to London. Transatlantic obligations be damned, there was no way she was going to miss this.

Forbidden - part 2 (Dimon romantc)

The story can also be found on Wattpad You can find the first chapter here Feedback is greatly appreciated. It has been a little over three weeks since I moved in my dorm and started my studies at the Uni. Although I am still quite ‘green’ as the graduates would call it, I actually started to get used to my new life here and I do like it. It feels freaking good to be meeting tons of new people who know nothing about you and have never met you before. I’ve gotta say that Chelle and I have really hit it off and get along quite well, too. We go out at the discos every weekend and it’s been a great fun to get lose with her. She is one pretty crazy gal, can talk about the weirdest shit ever and wouldn’t even bother. We usually go out, pass by some fast food chain to grab a bite, then leave for the big alcohol smash and return to the same restaurant spot to eat afterwards again. Don’t ask me why, it just is that way every time. It is now 10 AM on a Sunday morning and at this point my hangover is killing me for real. And the sunlight piercing through the windows doesn’t help at all, so I just cover my eyes with my right arm. I can’t help but wonder why every time after a good night out, the next morning feels like a payback? A few minutes later and I get this really irritating feeling of having to pee right on this instant. I groan tiredly at the idea of getting up and although that’s the last thing I feel like doing right now, my full bladder wins, so I slowly waddle my way to the bathroom. The smell of cigarettes and alcohol is everywhere, my clothes smell, my lingerie smell; even my skin has soaked it up. I’m in a desperate need of a shower, so this is the priority task on the to-do list now. I do my job on the toilet in what feels like a slow motion and collapse back onto my bed. Despite all the drinking and partying there was still no puking or anything, so good job Demetria, I tell myself. Sleeping on doesn’t seem possible right now so instead I grab my phone and start scrolling over my social media. Most of the stuff I see is memes and photos from the party last night, so I quickly run through the galleries. I zoom over every picture that I am tagged in and fortunately for me, I look more or less decent in them. I decide to go through my own camera snaps in search for something new to upload on my profile, but the majority of the pics are either vague or too dark, so I drop it. In the mean time the phone buzzes in my hands and I notice a messenger head pop from Marissa, my best friend back home. I click onto the icon to have a look on what she says. “Wazzzzza girllll, is everything alright with u there? Give me a call when u see that.” I chuckle to myself and dial her number. I haven’t talked to her in a good six days, being busy with the project we got from the uni or going out on the free days. When I got admitted for my studies she was a bit upset that I was leaving, so we promised each other to keep in touch and share a lot with the latest news and gossips going around. After 3 beeps, she picks up. “Yoooooo, wat up, chicka?” “Took you long enough to answer, eh?” – I teased her. “Haha come off it, I was in the bathroom” – She replied, laughing. “Oh well, since when aren’t you bringing it with you in there?” “Since I dropped my brand new Galaxy S in the loo last year, remember?” – We both started laughing at the memory of it. “Oh yeah, right, I now remember this masterpiece of yours. How are you, what’s going on?” – I asked. “Well nothing much to be honest. I’ve been bored as fuck lately with uni, work, you know how it is. “ “Awwwwwee, does someone miss me and my trolling comments?” – I mocked her again. “You wiiiiiish lol. But yeah, I do. Nobody here is up for anythi-i-i-ing, so I’m living a retiree’s life now I swear.” – She complained. I chuckled at her whiny voice. “So tell me, what’s new around you? Haven’t talked to you in like a week” “Yeah sorry, I’m still overwhelmed with everything here, lessons, parties, classmates, all of that” “Anything in particular? Like, tell me are there any hotties going around those lessons, parties or classmates?” – She asked cheekily. Always the first one to ask about that. “Well, there are some going around, not gonna lie. But hey, there’s still Rob, in case you have forgotten already”. – I remind her, even though I’m technically single already. “I thought you guys broke up?” “Well, we did, but I promised him I’m not gonna hook up with anyone here, so” “Oh come on Demi, you are so far away. You don’t expect to never like anyone for the next few years there, do you? The same goes for him.” “Marissa, I’m not saying it is impossible but I have no desire for it whatsoever now.” “I think you are over-doing it here. I mean that’s why you guys broke up, so that you both see if you love each other enough to not like anyone else. What you’re doing is different, though.” “And how exactly is it different?” “Well, you should check if you will like someone else, but what you are doing is trying not to like someone else.” – She explained in her serious tone. “You’re wrong. But you know, there isn’t anyone so far anyway.” “We will see about that. Anyway, let’s cut the shit, give me some highlights or I don’t know, some spicy stuff from Berklee now please, I’m so bored” I guess it was no surprise that my mind immediately wandered over to Simon. I mean that was surely one of the highlights and unfortunately, probably the most embarrassing moment so far during my month of stay here. And the cringer part is, one: he is my lecturer and second: I still find him very attractive. Too much for what is acceptable for a student. As if any of this is acceptable at all, I thought to myself. “Demi? You there?” – I heard Marissa ask on the line. “Yeah, sorry, I just got carried away a bit there…– I replied. “But alright…since you’ve asked, I’m gonna tell you about it… there was this really cringy thing that happened to me” – I trailed off. “Yes?” “But don’t mock me too much about it, alright?” “God, Is it that bad?” “Not my greatest move by far” “Okay, now I really want to know. What’s up?” – She asked curiously. “Ehm, I was basically... you know… ehm so the other day, when I was going to school and was just crossing the street, a car nearly hit me and so it stopped right next to me, stirring the wheels and all” “Jesus, are you okay?” – She asked worriedly. “Yeah yeah, don’t worry, nothing happened. Anyway, the thing is I was running late so I got mad at the driver. Called him a fool and kicked the bumper, like not that hard but still…” I heard her laughing on the other end of the line. “Why am I not surprised?” She kept on laughing. “And, what happened afterwards?” “Well, I kept walking my way, got to the Uni and all and long story short, it turned out the driver of that same car was also my lecturer…” “HAHAHAHAHA, Oh my God, are you serious?” – She was laughing hysterically. “Yup” – I replied, not believing it myself, shaking my head. “Oh my God, I’m literally gonna pee myself here.” – She said through what sounded like tears from laughter. “So much for a friend’s support” – I replied ironically. “Oh come on Dems, it is funny.” – Her laughter was only confirming my fears of how bad it was. I couldn’t blame her though; perhaps I would have laughed just as much. “Hey, come on Dems, I’m sorry okay. But Jesus, tell me about bad luck there. Did he recognize you later on in the class?” – She asked much calmer this time. “Yeah, he did and he told me he knew it was me. I was so embarrassed, Marissa, you have no idea…” “I get it hun, and I’m not gonna lie to you, Dem, that’s pretty embarrassing. But it’s not like you wanted to offend him, I mean you didn’t know it was him so he shouldn’t take it close to heart.” – She said. “I know, but still, I felt like the dumbest ass over there, seriously.” “Ehm, did you, like, apologize?” “I tried, but he didn’t let me. Once he was done talking he left the room so I couldn’t.” “You have pissed me him off, Dem. It is understandable. He will get over it, don’t worry about it. Maybe just try to say sorry when you can.” “Do you think that will fix it?” – I asked hopeful. I now got a feeling that I probably cared more than I should, but more importantly, more than I thought I did. “Well, even if it doesn’t, that’s all you got.” “I guess you are right...” “I am. So just breathe now and don’t think about it anymore alright?” “Yes. Thanks hun, feeling better now to be honest.” “You welcome. We all make mistakes, I doubt it that he never made one.” I silently agreed with her. “Hey Dems I gotta go now, so I will talk to you later chicka.” “Alright, drop me a line when you can.” “Will do. Byeee” “Bye”. And I hang up. It always feels better after sharing your worries with a close friend. Marissa was surely the only person who knew so much about me, both good and bad stuff. Mostly bad, I mean nobody hides the good part, do they? I dropped my phone on my left side and thought about my convo with her. She did try her best to calm me down and most likely has sensed I was worried about it. Not something quite typical, but she didn’t give it a second thought, at least while talking and I was thankful for it. The thing is, I really don’t know if I care so much because I fancy him somehow or because I am still pretty ashamed of what I did. I thought about what she told me regarding Rob as well. That it is not only dependent on me if we will stay true to each other, but on him too. That was one thing that didn’t really cross my mind so far, and it did incent my doubts. Not that I didn’t trust him or anything, it is just that by now I have kept my focus on what I am doing and never actually thought that it is not just me and what I am doing here, it is about us both. And it is scary. Did he love me? Well, he told me he did. Did I love him? I think I do. I mean I’ve been in love with him for the past few years that should mean something right?? Whilst on theory everything seems to be working just fine, it surely isn’t as simple. I need time to think, and I should surely have it figured out by Christmas, when I will be going home for the holidays. I played a bit with my fingers and heard Chelle moving around in the bathroom. I was surprised she has woken up just now, it is already almost 11 AM and she usually handles hangovers much better than me. I heard her shutting the syphone and then knocking on my door quietly. “Hey Dems, got a minute?” – She called from outside. “Yep, come in” – I said, still curled up under my covers. She came in and sat on the verge of my bed, next to my feet. “Hey, still lying in bed I see.” – she smiled and poked me on my shoulder. “Noo, I’m awake, but just talked on the phone with my friend for like an hour” – I explained still sleepily. “I know. I heard you telling the story about you, Mr. Cowell and your intriguing acquaintanceship to someone.” – She laughed at the memory. Chelle was the first person I shared this with, she was in the dorm when I got home from that embarrassing class and sensed something was up. She then asked me and I told her about it. “Yeah, don’t even mention it, I’m still so embarrassed.” – I said, hiding my face in my pillow. “Oh come on Dems, we talked about it. It’s over already, you can’t do anything to change it.” – She shrugged her shoulders. “I know Chelle, but it is just so bad…” “It is not the end of the world, Dems. To be honest I thought you were over it by now, you haven’t mentioned it lately.” “Well yes, because I haven’t had classes with him ever since, but guess what – next week I will.” – I said kind of irritated. “Right, I heard he was back in the states from his work in Britain the other day too.” – She said. “He is like the buzzing topic among the girls here.” “Having in mind even you have heard something, he surely is” – I laughed and she followed too. “Come on, let’s go out and have some food. Just let me take a quick shower.” – I added, running to the bathroom already. “Okay, 20 minutes and we’re going” – She replied, jumping off my bed and going to her room. I guess it is time to get this Sunday finally started.