#best mba universities in up

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[shobhituniversity]

Delhi NCR's Education Hub: Private Universities Leading the Way

Check out this blog for how Shobhit University stands tall in its commitment to providing high-quality education and nurturing academic brilliance.

Visit here - https://www.shobhituniversity.ac.in/blogs.php

[octuscle]

Four T and one C

On campus, they were known only as TTTT. Tanner, Thad, Trent and Trey had known each other since childhood. Their parents were all members of the same country club, their parents all had summer houses in the same area in the Hamptons. It was clear that TTTT would all go to the same college together. With a lot of money from their parents, they had all made it to Yale. Even if not everyone was actually clever enough for it. Fortunately, as Yale alumni and successful investment bankers and lawyers, their fathers and mothers were able to fix that. And so the party at the high school became an Ivy League party. And TTTT were the guests of honor at the party.

Chad's parents weren't in a country club and didn't have a house in the Hamptons. But they were wealthy enough that Chad had somehow managed to find favor in the TTTT's picky eyes. He lived in the same dorm, they had talked at some point. And the fact that Chad was smart and could help them with an exam or two wasn't a disadvantage, of course. The TTTT were all studying business studies, Chad biochemistry. But with an IQ of 142, he was easily able to pick up what little knowledge he needed for an MBA in a lunch break.

The first semester came to an end. TTTT had done reasonably well, Chad already had a job as a working student at a biotech lab and had a good chance of finishing the semester at the top of his class. Nevertheless, he was at every party and if you saw the five of them in their Polo Ralph Laure and Abercrombie & Fitch outfits, you would have thought that all five of them were nothing more than spoiled and stupid frat boys. Until the day the last marketing exam was written. TTTT treated themselves to a beer in the sun on campus in front of the football stadium to celebrate the end of the semester. And then Chad came by. But he wasn't dressed like Chad. He looked like a British hooligan. At least almost. Tight jeans, DocMartens and a tight Fred Perry polo shirt that showed he obviously didn't just spend time in the library and lab. The tight shirt showed off his pecs and biceps pretty well.

“Bro!” said Tanner. “What do you look like? What's with the chav look?” Chad grinned. With that cheeky grin and his haircut, he was still one of them, even if he was dressed differently. “I got this invitation from my new employer. Sick party, all for nothing. And the employees were asked to come in the company colors. And they are yellow and black. And because I didn't have time to change beforehand, I wore the only thing like that I could find. I had it from my exchange year in Berlin. Everyone at my school walked around like that.” Trent grinned. “Sounds sick, dude! Do you think you can get us into the party?” Chad grinned and pulled out four ribbons. “You think I'm forgetting my best bros? Put on your wristbands, they'll get you into anything you want. And here are the tickets for the entrance.” Chad took a look. The nerd still had to study, he still had two exams to write. TTTT did a collective high five. The evening was saved. It would be just the right end to their first semester at university.

The bouncers had had their hands full. The party was an event of the year, crowds of people wanted to get in. TTTT had problems even getting through to the bouncers. But when they showed their tickets, they were waved through. One of the bouncers said to a colleague “What boring philistines!” Fortunately, TTTT didn't hear that. And fortunately, the four of them were so sure of themselves and their appearance that they didn't feel they stood out among the party people.

The party was good. There was plenty to drink, there were hot girls for the four of them to dance with. But the real kick was missing. Trey noticed that the most attractive people were heading towards a door with another group of bouncers in front of it. Trey waved his bros together and headed for the door. “Ribbon only,” grunted one of the gigantic bouncers, pressed into a black and yellow leather suit. Trey grinned. He had pocketed the ribbons and had almost forgotten about them. TTTT put the wristbands on their wrists and passed the gorillas with a grin.

Loud bass thumped at the end of the corridor. Strobe flashes flashed. There was much more yellow and black on the dance floor than on the last dance floor. And the people here were different. Beautiful. But not New England at all. Thad was reminded of Berghain in Berlin. He'd tried to get in once, but even with a wad of dollar bills he hadn't been able to get past the bouncer. But those who had managed to get in often looked like the people dancing on the dance floor here. Thad turned to look at his bros. The three of them had rushed straight onto the dance floor. In their outfits, they stood out like colorful dogs. At least their hairstyles matched the crowd on the dance floor to some extent. Thad rubbed his head. He loved the feeling of freshly shaved sides. Fuck, Trent really looked good with that badass undercut. Thad's cock was getting hard.

The four of them danced in a trance to ecstasy. The hard techno beats thumped through their bones. Every now and then, one of the TTTTs went to the bar and provided the four of them with an energy drink. Last time, the awesome bartender had also slipped Trent a few colorful pills, which the four of them washed down with the candy-sweet drink. I have no idea what time it was. But the party had only just started. According to his watch, it was 06:00 in the morning when Tanner had to go to the toilet. The room was overcrowded. A few of the athletes who had gathered here sweating were actually pissing. But most of them were sucking cock or being sucked. Damn, there was a muscular guy at the front wearing nothing but a pair of black and yellow chaps. Tanner had already noticed the guy on the dance floor. Without giving it much thought, he dropped to his knees in front of the Adonis. And sucked the first cock of his life. But no one, not Adonis, not Tanner would have thought that. It was as if it was routine on a club night.

Tanner had swallowed every drop. He wiped the rest from the corner of his mouth and made his way back to the dance floor. Maybe with a detour past the bar. There was a guy sitting at the bar who made Tanner want to get down on his knees again. The guy's bulge in his latex pants looked almost painful. The guy almost grabbed his crotch, kneaded the bulge and asked, “So, Tanner? Do you like sucking cock, you pervy pig?” Tanner winced. He knew that voice. That was… Chad!

Chad grinned, took a swig of beer and unzipped his pants. A monster jumped out of his prison like a jack-in-the-box. Tanner first licked the skin-tight latex-wrapped nipples and then ran his tongue over Chad's washboard abs to the shaved cock. Shit, Tanner was addicted to hot guys' cum. Chad leaned back and enjoyed Tanner's practiced tongue. For a semester, TTTT had taken advantage of him. Always made him feel like a second-class human being. But now? The substance he'd soaked the ribbons with seemed to be working excellently. The dumb college jocks had become techno disciples who followed their DJ gods around the planet from party to party. As guinea pigs for Chad's new employer, they would not become lawyers or investment bankers. But thanks to a lavish expense account, they would be able to lead a very hedonistic lifestyle. And whenever Chad was horny, one of the TTTT would be at his disposal.

Tienn, Tyrus, Tai and Taren were in top form. The party was far from over. They were the stars of the dance floor. Hardly anyone moved to the music like the four of them. When they weren't in the washroom servicing a hot guy they had picked up on the dance floor. One of them always had his eye on Chad. When Chad needed their services, he always had priority. All they were, they were only thanks to Chad.

Pics by @ki-kink

[thebiggerbear]

"You're safe now. I'm here." - Russell Shaw Prompt Response Part 1

Summary: You've been taken hostage and Russell is part of the unit sent in to retrieve you.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

A/N: This is a prompt from @sydnee-kom-spacekru that I had to turn into a two-parter because it got way too long for just one posting. I've been working on this since May 19th when I decided to add Russell to the multi-character prompt response project I'm currently working on.

For this story, I chose Colombia as the country featured in here because I remember when we were growing up, we would ask our parents why we couldn't visit our cousins from there, and we were told it was too dangerous. As we grew older, we obviously found out why. That's the only reason I chose it for that part of the story. Obviously, I'm not making any statements, political or otherwise, about Colombia or any past/present situation happening there.

A little bit of a disclaimer: I do not work in the medical field so I apologize for any inconsistencies, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. I did my best to research but ultimately, I'm not trained in that industry. I also am not in the military, political, or governmental fields. I also am not the CEO of a major corporation. I utilized those parts of the story strictly for fictional purposes. So I apologize in advance again if I get anything incorrect for those fields.

All unbeta'd.

Part 2 (coming very soon)

WARNINGS: graphic violence; attempted sexual assault; trauma; graphic blood/injury; gun violence/gunfire; mentions of dead bodies; death; mentions of execution; kidnapping/hostage situation; PTSD; angst

Word Count: 11k+

“You’re safe now, I’m here.”

Soldier Boy version ✨ SDV Leah version

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You slowly glanced around the room you were being held in. You winced when the pain in your head started up again from the movement. You knew you had some cuts on your face, your lip, and one near your hairline. One of the people who had taken you and your co-workers hostage had shouted at you in Spanish and worked you over a little. You understood most of what he had screamed but you had no answers for him. 

You and your team had come down to visit the Bogota office upon the insistence of your father. The company his grandfather had started decades prior had expanded to become one of the top corporations in the United States, eventually branching out internationally. Growing up, you hadn’t wanted for anything. As you got older and entered high school, your father made it clear to you, being his only child, that he wanted you to follow in his footsteps and take over the family business one day. It wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of but it had been made known from the outset that whatever you might want would never matter in the scheme of things. Not when it came to the importance of legacy and carrying on the family name and the company’s brand, all while working closely with the Board. So, you had pursued your business degree in college at an Ivy League school, even going so far as to achieve your MBA and make your father proud.

You were quickly welcomed into the company and you put your nose to the grindstone, worked hard, and began to climb the corporate ladder. A lot of people knew that had to do with your last name but they also saw you working the same long hours as them, working just as much, and sacrificing any semblance of a personal life you could have had. You didn’t even have plants in your lavish city apartment because you were practically never there to water them. Weekends were a concept that ceased to exist the moment you left the university. If your co-workers worked 60-hour work weeks, you worked 80. If they worked through holidays like Memorial Day and July 4th, you worked those days, too, in addition to Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. So you earned some respect, some envy, and some resentment — a healthy mix of it all as you raced to the top at your father’s constant prodding. 

Only a year ago, you’d moved to Manhattan to run the New York office, a promotion that had your father beaming with pride. It was a bit of a transition, as any transition would be, but ultimately, you got to know your team, your department heads, and you’d settled in as best you could. You never truly relaxed into your role but you let your employees know up front that you were there to make things easier, not more difficult. You were interested in flooding the figurative harbor so everyone’s boats would rise, not just yours or the Board’s. Your father had not appreciated that little introductory speech you had made but you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret it. You had meant every word and you set out every single day to not only prove yourself but to also make that vision come true. 

Which was partially what had brought you to the Bogota office. While you were responsible for New York, your father had made the valid point that you should travel to the international offices of Bogota, London, and Beijing. You should show your face and introduce yourself in person, not just on Zoom. You had been hesitant, not because you didn’t want to visit the sites and meet the crews, but because you still didn’t feel confident that you could afford to be away from your home office for that long (it would be about a two and a half week trip). Not because you didn’t trust your team to run things without you but because you had several projects in the works that required your constant participation, feedback, approval, and sometimes guidance. It felt strange to put it all at risk by choosing the most inopportune moment for you to go shake hands on the international stage and take tours of the other facilities. You didn’t want to leave your team in a lurch at a dire time such as this one. You had tried to explain all of this to your father when he grew irritated at your resistance.

“Stop with the excuses. You’re going and that’s final,” he had snapped at you before leaving your office. And that had been that. 

The next morning, you and a few selected co-workers (handpicked by your father) were on a flight to Bogota, the first stop on your international tour. Thankfully, Colombia was only one hour behind New York so you’d be able to check in with your office as soon as you landed. 

Things were going well with your visit, right up until the moment you and your team were leaving the building to head back to the hotel for a late lunch when you were ambushed. A black hood had been thrown over your head, you’d felt pain as something hit you from the side, and the next thing you knew, you woke up in a vehicle that you could feel and hear but not see. You had no idea what happened until you were instructed in Spanish to shut up, stay quiet and not struggle, and you wouldn’t get hurt. You knew you were in trouble when you came to but now you knew without a doubt as you listened to the conversation between the men surrounding you, you had been taken hostage.

You had no idea where they had brought you but you’d been there for what felt like a month though you couldn’t be sure. You had been held in the same room, only able to use the bathroom which they escorted you to. You were in some compound and any time you’d tried to sneak a peek out of an open window during your bathroom treks, you either got yelled at and hit or you could only make out a thick cover of trees. You and your group had been terrified every single day of your captivity that they would kill you all, or worse. You had three men in your group and four women including you. One of the kidnappers had already tried to take advantage of that fact and had thrown Meredith from Finance onto the floor, unbuckling his pants. You had begged in Spanish for her to be left alone while Pat and Suzanne had cried and screamed. Tim, Jerry, and Rob had all been taken to the bathroom beforehand (something that hadn’t happened before, they usually took the guys one at a time) so it had been just you four in the room. When the man didn’t show any signs of stopping and Meredith tearfully begged him from the floor to let her be, something switched off in your brain and you flew at him. You attempted to hit him anywhere you could but he knocked you down flat in seconds. He backhanded you a couple of times, making the women in the background scream louder, and he then decided you were going to be the one he was going to assault instead. He ripped your shirt and you tried to fight him off but he was too strong. Thankfully, another kidnapper heard all of the commotion and came running, rushing into the room and stopping the man, yelling at him that none of you were to be touched, that was part of the deal. Your would-be assailant yelled back at the man who had saved you and then got to his feet, spitting on you, as he stormed out of the room, followed by your unintentional savior. 

You attempted to cover yourself with the shreds of your shirt but it was useless. You now only had a bra and little bits of cloth left from how violently he had torn the fabric. You were shaking but somehow you were able to crawl your way over to Meredith to check on her. Sobbing, she held onto you and before you knew it, Pat and Suzanne had rushed over, throwing their arms around you both, still crying themselves but also trying to speak reassurances to you both. Your body shook in their embrace as it finally hit you how close you had come to being assaulted. If that other man hadn’t interrupted when he did… You shuddered at the thought. It wasn’t long after that when Tim, Jerry, and Rob were returned to the room, their hoods removed, and one glance in your direction let them know immediately what had happened. Rob had actually removed his shirt and offered it to you, apologizing for the smell. You appreciated his selfless gesture but you were thankful when Tim instead offered up the windbreaker pullover he had been wearing the day you had been taken. You took the latter, thanking them both for their generosity and thoughtfulness. Tim at least still had his t-shirt.

Then, a couple of days later, you had been dragged from the room, thrust into a chair, and tied up. The questioning began, about the money from your company among other things, and you were worked over when they didn’t get the answers they wanted. You hadn’t noticed a man holding a smartphone while sitting in the corner, taking in every second of the torture you endured, until your interrogation ended. You had been afraid but seeing that phone…you were absolutely terrified. Were they going to kill you on video, sending it off to media outlets to share globally for your father to see? Or would they use social media?

They didn’t end up killing you, though. Instead, they brought you to a room with a single bed that you had never seen before. You did not like the fact that you had been separated from your group. You began to hyperventilate at the realization that they were isolating you for a purpose, thinking you would be attacked again, especially when you heard a loud gunshot reverberate from outside followed by yelling that you couldn’t quite make out. But instead of anyone coming to hurt you, they sent in a doctor to tend to your wounds. Once he had, you curled up into a ball and hugged your knees to your chest, waiting for the worst to happen, intent on fighting tooth and nail when the time came. But a few days later or however long it had been, they brought you back into the interrogation room again. 

You expected the blows this time though they still hurt horribly. They began to cut you on your arms, near your neck, your shoulders, your torso…they never cut your face, though. While you were grateful for that small mercy, they still beat the hell out of you, the worst they ever had. While your face may have been spared the cutting, it was not spared the hits. You had even taken a couple of hard blows to the head that left you reeling. You didn’t even remember if you had screamed, cried, or begged for them to stop. Instead, you remembered some random saying in some movie you had seen stating that pain was the way you knew you were still alive. You held onto that as they continued to inflict as much damage as they could without actually killing you or making it impossible for you to speak. They had even unzipped Tim’s pullover at the beginning of the torture, leaving you in your bra, and besides the cuts they had also landed punches to your already severely bruised stomach and sides. They had even stomped on your bare feet, making you cry out as some of your toes broke from the force. They had even taken a bat to your right knee. That time you screamed the loudest you ever had in your life, sobbing so hard you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop. The pain was immense, something you hadn’t felt before, and tears poured down your face, mixing with the blood dripping from a busted lip and most likely broken nose. When they stopped to take a break, it didn’t surprise you in the least that the same man with the phone from last time was there in the same corner. It did surprise you, though, that they didn’t leave. While you figured they were just ramping up to go for a second round, something told you that you may not come out alive from this particular interrogation. You could only hope the others you had been brought here with somehow did. A small part of you wondered if the reason they were going harder on you this time, possibly about to kill you on video, is because your company didn’t pay the sum demanded in the last one. You knew your father must have done everything he could to secure your release, even if the Board for some reason hadn’t. You hadn’t prayed since you were a girl, right before your mother died, but you sent a silent one up anyway to anyone who might be listening that your father would never see this footage. It would destroy him if he did. You didn’t expect much, though. Your mom had still passed away from a terminal illness, so you were pretty sure your father wouldn’t be spared seeing your last moments like this.

But instead of starting back up again as you anticipated, the men ended up stepping outside of the room though they left the phone behind, on some sort of stand, still pointing in your direction. 

So now here you were, your body exhausted yet radiating nothing but pain. You slowly swung your head around in a daze, blinking against the bright light they had turned on before leaving. You waited for them to come back, to finally do their worst and possibly end your life. You were terrified but you also knew how badly injured you were, that there was nothing you could do. Even if you could somehow get loose, how would you manage to escape? Even if you got outside, this compound was heavily patrolled by armed guards. And even if by some miracle you could get past them without being seen or an alarm being sounded when your absence was discovered, you had no idea where you were. You were in the jungle for Christ’s sake, from the brief glimpses you’d managed to catch on your bathroom runs. You had no idea where to go from here. Still, though, you heard that small voice inside your head, telling you to fight, not to give in or give up. You had to work hard, be the best, and prove yourself. Go, go, go. The voice sounded strangely like your father’s. 

As you waited for your captors to come back, you glanced around the room to see if there was anything that could help you. You attempted to move your arms but gasped in pain when you did. You didn’t even try anything with your right leg. You knew your kneecap was broken; it had to be. You chanced moving your left leg, though, but it didn’t budge. You were stuck to this chair.

Suddenly, you heard the last thing you expected. Gunfire. 

Not that gunfire was all that unusual around here. You had heard some happen during your captivity but it was short and never answered. You and your co-workers had no idea what went on in the rest of the compound but after hearing those rounds being fired every so often, you didn’t really want to know.

But these were extended rapid bursts of gunfire and someone was definitely shooting back. Not to mention all of the furious yelling you could hear down the hall. You idly wondered if one of your people got free and they were making a break for it. If it was, you hoped they got free and were able to go for help. 

You knew you should be scared as the gunshots got closer to you, when you heard more yells and some thuds right outside your door, but you simply resigned yourself to your fate. Especially when one of the kidnappers burst into the room and held a gun to your head, yelling in Spanish at an unseen person to stay back or he would kill you. Your body began to shake uncontrollably once more, thinking this was it. You knew it; you were going to die. 

Two men swept into the room, dressed in tactical-looking gear and donning black face masks with holes only for eyes and mouths, assault rifles pointed in your captor’s direction. The man on your right told him to let you go in Spanish or he would be dead before he could squeeze a round off. 

The man on your left briefly glanced at you, his gaze an assessing one, before focusing back onto his target. Your captor screamed at them and pushed the gun into your temple, making you shake harder and take shallow breaths. 

“You got him?” The man on the left asked, surprising you when you heard him speak English. He sounded…American. 

“I got him,” the man on the right answered. Another American.

The kidnapper must have understood them because he gripped your head and pulled it back, pushing his gun now into the side of your face, making you scream out in pain. You heard a gunshot and suddenly the barrel against your cheek was gone as was the pressure around your head. A loud thud sounded as your captor’s body fell to the ground behind you and you moved your head to a position that didn’t hurt so much.

The two men were suddenly there, the one on the left laying a hand on your shoulder. “Please…don’t hurt me,” you begged in a raspy whisper. You followed it up with the same plea in Spanish, still not sure who you were exactly dealing with as your head swam.

“Hey,” the left soldier spoke softly. “Look at me.”

You did the best you could. It shocked you to see green eyes staring back at you with something that looked like kindness. Kindness…you hadn’t seen that in what felt like forever. Considering you’d only seen hatred and disgust from everyone around you since this whole ordeal started, this was something new and you held onto it with all of your might. 

“We’re here to get you out. Just hold on.” He pulled out a switchblade and you immediately gasped and began to shake again. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just cutting the ropes,” he explained gently as he did it. “See?” You carefully moved your head to gaze down, seeing that he was indeed doing as he said. 

Once you were free, you began to slide off of the chair, unable to sit up right due to your head still swimming. The movement caused you to cry out in pain from your injured knee being jostled when he caught you and lifted your arm around his shoulders to gently help you back into your original seated position. Your body still shaking, your brain told you that he was telling you the truth and he had just proved it, but you were still terrified and unsure of what to believe — no matter how kind his eyes were. “Shh, you’re safe now. I’m here and I’m going to get you out. I’m guessing they did a number on your legs?” He frowned down at your bloody feet. 

“My knee,” you quietly sobbed, the pain still radiating throughout your right leg. “They—they broke it.”

“Shit,” he muttered, studying the leg you had glanced at. 

In the background, you noticed the other man grab the smartphone and slip it into his pocket before heading back over in your direction. “What are we doing, man? Grab her and let’s go. Clock’s ticking.”

The man crouched in front of you looked up at the other one. “She can’t walk.” He inclined his head in the direction of your knee. “We’re going to have to carry her out.”

“Fucking hell,” the other one hissed. “Maybe we can get in touch with the chopper and get an evac.”

The man in front of you shook his head. “No, this is supposed to be a quick in and out. We have to get to the extraction point. They’re not coming for us.” So maybe these two were soldiers? They sounded like they might be military. Had your father somehow managed to get the government to send the US military in to rescue you?

“But, there’s no way we can—”

“No time for this, man. We’ve got to move now before reinforcements arrive.” Your rescuer turned back to you. “Alright, listen, I’m not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell. I’m going to try my best to take it easy on you but we have to get you out of here now.”

You shook your head, causing tears to roll down your face. You wouldn’t admit it but you were as scared of the pain as you were to go out into the chaos you still heard happening outside of the room you were in. 

He laid his hand on your shoulder again and locked gazes with you. “We have to do this. I told you before. I’m here to get you out and that means I’m not leaving without you.” He very gently rubbed at your shoulder in reassurance. “So, just try to relax and I’ll—” He carefully tried to slip his free hand underneath your legs and gingerly lift them but the movement caused you to scream in pain. 

“Okay, okay,” your soldier soothed and backed off.

The other soldier was shaking his head. “We are so fucked.”

“Hey, we’re not.” Your guy turned to give him a sharp look. “Just give me a second with her.”

The other one let out an aggravated sigh and impatiently pointed to his watch before holding his rifle up and leaving the room. 

Your soldier glanced back at you. “Okay. Time for some real talk. We’ve got about seventeen minutes to get to the extraction point which is out of this place and up the hill on the north side. Which would be, not exactly a cakewalk because it would still be tough, but if you were able to use your legs and we were running, we’d probably make it there in the next fifteen despite any resistance we might encounter. But, this is—”

“Going to slow you down,” you choked out. “I’m not going to make it.” More tears rolled down your cheeks, stinging when they came into contact with your injuries. If you had to be left behind, you knew you would die. No question about it.

“Hey,” he spoke softer than he had a moment ago. “I told you I’m not leaving here without you and I meant it. So don’t go thinking anything like that.” His eyes narrowed slightly as your head became too heavy to try to hold up. His hand was suddenly behind your neck, helping you, as he visually inspected one of the wounds at your hairline. “Dammit,” you heard him mutter. “Okay, I’m getting you out of here.”

He bent down to scoop you up but you grabbed onto his uniform, gripping a bit of the fabric in your fingers though it hurt to do so. He turned to look at you and you shook your head, whimpering. “Please,” you begged. 

He reached up with a gloved hand and gently wiped under your eyes with his thumb. “I’m sorry but I have to. If I don’t…” He didn’t finish that sentence but he didn’t need to; the concern you saw in his green gaze said more than enough, and confirmed what he had already told you. “I know the pain is going to be a bitch and a half, but you’ve got to push through as best you can. I’ll carry you and get you to that chopper, I promise, but I need you to hold on. If you have to cry, scream, hell, even bite down on me, you do whatever you’ve got to do. But we’re doing this and we’re doing it now. You ready?”

“N-No.” Your voice wobbled a little bit but you heard him. You were going to try your best but you were still scared of the impending pain. “I’ll try.”

“Atta girl.” He gently positioned you as close to him as possible, zipping up the pullover that your captors had left open, and then carefully placed his free arm under your legs again. You got ready for the pain and whimpered again when he got ready to lift you. “I promise, after this, we’ll get that knee looked at, and that head injury, as soon as we get you someplace safe. Hey, look at me.” You struggled to meet his eyes but when you did, you saw the kindness from earlier staring back at you. “You’ve got this. You’ve made it this far and you’re going to make it all the way. I’m going to make sure you do.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, afraid to speak any louder when the threat of the impending pain. Almost as if you spoke a half a decibel higher, you might make it hurt worse than it already was going to. It didn’t make sense but you weren’t exactly thinking straight right then. 

You held onto the outer edge of his vest, wincing at the flare up of pain in your hand, as ready as you could possibly be in that moment. 

He gave you another second, a brief respite from what was to come, and then a nod. “Alright, here we go.”

The man slowly lifted you and it hurt, sure, but what really hurt was when gravity did its work when he carefully got to his feet. You couldn’t help but cry out. You immediately stuck your thumb knuckle into your mouth and bit down, hoping this would all be over very soon.

The other soldier appeared in the doorway, having heard your cries. Your soldier took a few steps towards him, forcing you to bite harder into your skin and more tears to roll down your cheeks. “Let’s get moving. Call the bird and let them know we’re on our way.” The man nodded and turned, speaking to someone to let them know you were about to leave the compound and would need backup on the way. 

When he turned around and gave you both a nod, your soldier held you a little closer to him. “You take point and lead us out. We’re good.” He then turned a reassuring smile on you. “Aren’t we?”

You wanted to answer him but you couldn’t. He hadn’t even started really moving yet and already the pain was agonizing. Instead, you carefully laid your head on his shoulder, feeling pure exhaustion wash over you that left an even foggier trace behind in your mind.

“Let’s do this.” Your soldier looked back towards the door and began to follow his fellow soldier out of the room. You gasped from the pain, bit into your flesh harder, and ignored the tears spilling onto your face. You weren’t going to be able to hold back the pained cries for long. You had no idea how you weren’t screaming at this point.

As you all turned down a hallway, you couldn’t help but think of the others and that provided a momentary distraction. “What about—my people?” You asked through gritted teeth.   

“Already extracted,” he whispered. “Now it’s your turn, Y/N.”

You were still fighting your way through a misty fog of pain and sluggishness but that caught your attention. You released your thumb and stuttered out, “You know my name.”

“Of course I know your name. We came here for you.” He shot you a wink and then proceeded to carefully make his way down the stairs after the way forward was cleared. 

You idly wondered about that as you held onto him, noting several dead bodies in your peripherals but refusing to look straight at them. You could hear him huffing and puffing next to you and you felt badly that he had to carry you because you were unable to walk. A couple of times, he had to stop and hunker down with you while the other soldier engaged the remaining kidnappers you came across. The third time, it was a struggle for you but you whispered, “Slowing you down. Not —gonna make it.”

“Shhh, don’t worry about that. I’ve got you,” he murmured back. And sure enough, once it was clear again, you were on the move. Before long, you had met up with more soldiers (the backup that must have been called for) and one of them offered to take you. You involuntarily tightened your grip on your rescuer’s vest and he shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m good.” 

Eventually, you made your way out onto the terrain and you could no longer hold back your pained cries. “Almost there,” he promised. After what felt like prolonged agony, you finally reached an area where a helicopter was indeed waiting. The sight of it made something that felt like relief loosen inside your chest. You were really going to make it out of here alive. Your soldier went to hand you off to another inside when your fingers tightened reflexively around him again. “It’s just for a second to let me get in,” he reassured you. 

You nodded, hoping it wouldn’t hurt as bad as that run had, and let him go. Once you were all boarded onto the helicopter, you were moved around again until you were back in your soldier’s embrace, holding tightly onto him as the aircraft lifted into the air and headed away from the compound where more gunfire erupted. 

You tried to ask him something but he couldn’t hear you so he ducked his head near yours. “Where are my people?” You asked as loudly as you could, taking every little bit of strength you had left. You were still under the fog, but you still noticed your co-workers weren’t in the helicopter with you. 

He turned and placed his lips near your ear. “They’re in another chopper!” You had all made it safely out. Thank God.

You nodded and laid your head against his shoulder, completely spent and feeling the throbbing of pain in your body intensify, making you acutely aware of all the rest of your injuries. The pain radiated from your knee outwardly and now you could feel it in your torso, your arms, your head… Your eyes began to close of their own accord when he shook your shoulder a little. “I’m sure all you want to do right now is sleep but I need you to stay awake. At least until the docs get a good look at you!”

You blinked dazedly up at him. “I don’t think I can,” you mumbled, not even sure he heard you. The tide of pain was washing you under.

He then did the last thing you expected. He lifted his mask and you finally saw the man underneath, the owner of those green eyes that you had been holding onto during this entire ordeal. 

“Man, what the hell are you doing?” You heard yelled nearby, but your soldier kept his eyes on yours.

“I need you to stay awake, Y/N! You think you can do that for me?”

You took in his features, your fingers carefully lifting up to touch the thick beard he sported, noting the dirt and grime smears all over his face, but his eyes were what captivated you. Now without the mask in the way, you were free to get lost in those green orbs as deeply as you dared. Too bad you couldn’t seem to stay conscious. 

He shook you again. “Y/N! Hey! Stay awake!”

“Sorry,” you slurred before everything went black.

The next time you jerked into consciousness, screaming out in pain, the helicopter had just landed and your soldier, once again wearing his face mask, was yelling instructions to the men around him. You couldn’t hear exactly what they were, the pain was that intense. You were lifted out into another soldier’s arms and looking past him, you saw a second helicopter not that far away. You watched as your co-workers were ushered off of it alongside other masked soldiers but something didn’t seem right. You weren’t sure what it was but something was off to you.

You were placed into someone else’s arms and you saw the eyes of your rescuer once again, softening when he saw that you were crying.

“Something’s—wrong.” 

“Stay with me this time, Y/N,” he urged as he hurried you away from the helicopter. “Help is just a few feet away! Only a little bit more to go.”

You tried to stay with him, you really did, but the tide of pain started to blanket you once again. Alongside it, the feeling of something’s wrong surged throughout your body before the darkness overtook you once more. 

The next time you came to, you were on a gurney and bright lights were shining down on you. Doctors and nurses surrounded you, talking quickly in Spanish and calling out a few instructions. Your body began to involuntarily tremble again. Had your rescue been a dream? Had your kidnappers brought you to another part of the compound where they had an assembled medical team waiting to somehow keep you alive after they had unleashed such brutality on you? Or were you just dead?

You felt a warm hand in yours, a thumb stroking the top of yours reassuringly. You gingerly turned your head to find your soldier, still wearing his mask, standing right there, smiling down at you. “There you are. You had me worried for a second.”

Before you could ask him if he was real, if any of it was, a nurse started yelling at him, trying to get him to leave. He replied in perfect Spanish, telling her in a very resolved tone that he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were going to be okay. She let out a frustrated huff and shot him a glare before turning away to speak to the doctors. They insisted he had to go and once again, without your permission, you tightened your grip on him, not wanting him to go anywhere.

“No,” you rasped out. “Please let him stay. Please.” He was the only thing anchoring you in this moment. You got the distinct feeling that if you lost him, you’d be lost entirely, never to resurface. He was safety for you, an end to the horrific ordeal you had been through, and you didn’t want him to leave you.

A doctor leaned over you, speaking kindly in English. “It’s okay,” he spoke with a heavy accent. “We are going to make you better but he can’t be in here.”

You shook your head and grabbed at your soldier’s forearm with your free hand though it hurt like hell. 

“Doc, can you give us a second?”

The doctor gave him a look but did as he asked, moving back over to his team. 

The man next to you pulled a chair from out of nowhere and positioned it next to you. He took a seat and only when he had did you release him, wincing as you dropped your right hand next to you. 

He smiled reassuringly down at you. “You’re going to be okay. They’re going to fix you right up. You’ve been through a lot but you’re going to be alright.”

You knew what he was doing; he was calming you down and saying goodbye. For some reason, that made you tear up. Even though you didn’t know this man, he had been your harbor of safety in a chaotic whirlwind, a beacon of hope to cling to in a truly terrifying situation you had found yourself in. When a tear rolled down your cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb. “Will you be here when I wake up?” You choked out.

“I’ll be here until you fall asleep.”

That set loose more tears and he made sure to catch every single one. In the meantime, the nurse came over and injected something into your IV. When you started feeling drowsy a minute or so later, it wasn’t hard to guess what was happening. “Will I ever see you again?” You frantically intertwined your fingers with his as you struggled to stay awake.

He leaned closer, smiling in the same reassurance his green eyes were trying to convey. “I’ll find you,” he murmured, gently squeezing your hand. That made even more tears fall. It surprised you when he moved in to whisper to you, “Get some rest, sweetheart. You’ve more than earned it.”

You wanted to stay awake; you fought it, not wanting to lose sight of those green eyes fixated on you, knowing they would be gone once you closed yours. But you lost that battle as a sea of sleepiness dragged you down with it. You held onto his words as your eyes finally shut from the weight of the drug and you could no longer see him or feel his hand in yours. “I’ll find you” reverberated through your mind as you sank deeper and deeper into oblivion, falling at a rapid rate from deep green into solid black, until you were completely engulfed by it and you were gone.

You briefly closed your eyes as you felt a cool breeze gently make its way past you. You watched as two orange leaves pirouetted in the air, spinning round and round, until they landed several feet away. Silent ripples danced along the water’s surface in front of you and you could hear the sounds of people milling about near you, talking, surrounded by a symphony of nature sounds mixed in with the faroff noises of city life. You couldn’t help but smile when you heard small children giggling as they played on the grass nearby with their parents watching over them. You watched as a small group of teenage girls walked past you, laughing as they reminisced over something that had happened the past weekend. You saw an old man on another bench further down the path, an open book in his hands. 

These were the small peaceful moments that you had come to appreciate since you rejoined society a couple of months ago. These were the ones you held onto when the memories of the terror and pain all became a bit too much, that reminded you that you were back home, safe. 

You watched as two moms in workout gear jogged by with their strollers. A man and woman coming from the opposite direction made their way around the two women and continued their trek, drinking from to-go cups and dressed in business casual attire. Sure enough, you could hear them discussing work-related topics as they passed you by. You smiled sadly as you watched them get further and further from your sight. 

That had been you not that long ago, where you didn’t have a care in the world other than pushing out new product lines and being in charge of one of the main offices of the family business. The pressure had been near soul-crushing most of the time but you had adapted for the most part and rolled with it. You worked hard, you worked long hours, and you were alright with that. You took the stress of hectic deadlines and constantly putting out fires and you rolled with the punches. It became part of your make-up and it could only help fuel you even faster towards your goal — your father’s goal. Now, after what you’d been through, your outlook on it all had changed. What had felt like life and death matters in the corporate world before no longer felt as dire as it used to. You’d been in a literal life and death situation and lived to tell the tale; whatever came your way business wise you knew you could more than handle. There was something about being tortured and having a gun held to your head, convinced you were about to die, that just put things into perspective for you.

And though you survived, you didn’t actually get to tell your tale. The minute you were reunited with your father, while he had been grateful you were alive and kissed your forehead, it was made clear to you that you and the co-workers who had been in captivity with you were to sign NDA’s. That had completely floored you. That was the Board’s main concern? That the public might find out that some of its employees had been kidnapped, terrorized, and tortured? How were they going to explain your month long absence from the job, from your lives? You knew Meredith had a fiance, Pat was a grandmother, Rob had just gotten married weeks before this happened, and Tim had a wife and kids waiting back at home for him. Suzanne was dating someone in HR and you could have sworn you heard Jerry mention at some point that he had a dog to get back to, hoping his neighbor had either checked in on it or at least notified someone to do so. How in the world did the Board plan to explain away any of it?

Your father had let out an aggravated sigh as you fired question after question at him. Who had taken you? What had they wanted besides money? Why hadn’t the Board met their demands? Why had it taken them so long to get the government involved?

“They weren’t involved.”

Your eyes had widened in shock. “What? How?”

Your father had taken your hand in between his and stared into your eyes with meaning. “I’m only going to mention this once and then we’re never going to speak of it again. We hired someone to send in a team to get you out of there.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Hired someone? As in mercenaries?”

“Private contractors for security. They handle this type of situation quite frequently but they keep it all very hush hush. So that is why the Board is insisting on NDA’s for all of you. It’s not only to protect the brand but also to protect all of you.”

“Protect this organization they hired, you mean.”

Your father nodded, not looking troubled by your accusation in the least.

“I don’t understand, Dad. You have contacts in Defense. Why wouldn’t you call them?”

“We did. They recommended these people and said they were our best option. If we hired them, they could get in quickly and get you out. If we didn’t and chose to go through more official channels, it might prolong the process and that might be time that you didn’t have.”

You could see the wisdom in that advice he’d been given. They had been right; had they gotten there even just an hour later than they did, you might not be alive right now. “But a month, Dad? Why did they wait so long?”

Your father tightened his grip on your hand and you knew you weren’t going to like what he had to say next. “At first, we didn’t know who had taken you. When they made contact…the Board wanted to try negotiating with them first.”

You huffed out a breath in disbelief. Those sons of bitches…

“I pushed for them to do something more drastic but they fought me every step of the way. It wasn’t until they received that first video message that they finally agreed that I should make the call.” 

So your father had fought for you, but to a point. That fact rolled around in your brain for a moment. Had your roles been reversed, you would have told the Board to go screw themselves and immediately contacted whoever could rescue your father as soon as possible. No amount of money, litigation threats, or risk to the business would have stopped you. You, his only child, his only surviving family member, had been in mortal danger, and he hadn’t done everything he could to secure your safe return home as soon as possible? It was hard to wrap your mind around that. Then his last words finally registered. “Wait, what video message?”

His blue eyes softened with sympathy then and you could swear you could see a little bit of pain beginning to cloud them. “Where you were tortured.”

You should have known. Why else would your kidnappers have filmed it? Truthfully, you had known it back when they were hurting you. You shouldn’t be surprised, but you also didn’t want to talk about it. “You mean the pictures weren’t enough to convince them?” Before that first night, your kidnappers had forced you and your co-workers to look up at them as they snapped photos of you on their phones. You knew then that they were either using it as a scare tactic for your father and the Board or they were providing proof of life. Either way, it hadn’t mattered in the end since obviously the kidnappers had kicked it up a notch after that. 

A haunted look fleeted across your father’s tired face. While you may still be struggling with the idea that he hadn’t done everything you would have done in his place, you knew this had taken a toll on him. He had been genuinely concerned for you and the relief you’d seen on his expression when he saw you for the first time since you’d been separated was palpable. “When they saw the video, they could no longer pretend that this was something they could simply deal their way out of.”

Your brows drew together as you studied him. You were sure it had been hard for them to see what had happened to you, to hear your cries, your screams, your pained whimpers. You knew it must have been even more difficult for your father to see. But somehow you got the distinct impression that’s not what he was referring to. “Dad.” He glanced up at you and sure enough, you could tell he was keeping something from you. “Tell me.”

He grasped your hand tightly once more. This was definitely not going to be good. “It was bad enough to see what they did to you…but the end of the video was what convinced them.” At your knitted brow, he elaborated, “They pulled Tim out of the room they were keeping you all in, brought him somewhere, and then killed him.”

Your eyes widened and your heart stopped. What?

“And they said if they didn’t get what they wanted in three days, you were next.” 

Your heart started up again and began to pound in your chest. You felt like you were falling with no end in sight. Tim was…dead? Your breathing sped up into short pants and you could hear beeping from a machine you were connected to but it sounded so far away.

You had blocked out some of that experience, your brain subconsciously trying to protect you perhaps, you weren’t sure. And whatever memories stayed, each time they started to flash in your mind, you would close your eyes and grab hold of your safe harbor in those turbulent waves of trauma that tried to overtake you. You would think of green and while the images didn’t exactly disappear, it kept them at a safe distance. Well, while you were awake at least. The nightmares you experienced were something else entirely.

But this…nothing could protect you from this. You suddenly remembered being locked in that bedroom, hearing the yelling, the gunshot—oh God, the gunshot. You had heard the moment they— Your father urged you to calm down, rubbing your hand comfortingly, but you couldn’t hear him or even when a nurse rushed into the room to ask what was going on. Because at that precise moment, a memory came back to you, ripping your tight grip on your green harbor and tossing you back into the dark ocean of trauma and pain to drown in. 

It had been right before you’d passed out the second time. While your soldier had gotten out of the helicopter, you had glanced over to see the other helicopter that your people were disembarking from. At the time, you had been so out of it due to the pain and disorientation you had been feeling that you didn’t realize the number of people you should have been seeing was one short. You didn’t even seem to process the black bag two soldiers removed from the aircraft and carried off the tarmac together. You just knew something was wrong, something you had tried to tell your soldier before you passed out again. But now you knew exactly what you had seen.

Tim. Tim had been with you since you started in the New York office; he preceded you actually. Even though your father had chosen him to accompany you and the others, all you could remember was the nice man who had smiled and said hello as he walked into the office; the man who was quiet and reserved but also a hard worker; who had offered you his jacket to cover up with; the man who had begged the kidnappers for the photos of his kids from his wallet that they had taken and then denied him; the man who talked about his family and proudly told you all about his children. His daughter, Riley, was eight and she had recently taken up soccer. Before you’d left for Bogota, she had told him that her coach wanted her to try the goalie position but she was scared; she didn’t want balls flying at her head. You couldn’t blame her on that one and had said as much. You remembered all too well the sports you had been made to join growing up and it had never really been your thing, but it made your father happy so you did it each time he urged you to sign up or try out. Tim’s son, David, was nearly six and he had just graduated kindergarten. And the baby, Olivia, could be quite the handful since she was a very rambunctious toddler who never seemed to run out of energy, but his wife, Angela, lived up to her name and couldn’t be happier with their current family setup. And now… Now, he would never get to see any of them ever again.

The pained wail that met your ears caught you off guard until you realized it was coming from you. Tim was a good man and he had managed to make a life outside of work. He had something you had never let yourself dream about having since it would inevitably get in the way of your successful climbing of the corporate ladder. Now, he would never get to see his kids grow up, go to any more of Riley’s soccer games to encourage her, go on any more date nights with his wife — none of it. You had the horrible thought for a moment that it should have been you in that bag instead. It nearly had been you.

Your father held onto you as you wept, as the nurse rubbed your back from the opposite side of the bed, crooning soft reassurances to you and urging you to try to calm down. But nothing could reassure you; you were here and Tim was not. A cold hard fact that you could do nothing to change. Even worse, you had missed his funeral since you were stuck in the hospital you had been transferred to once you were flown from the one you had briefly ended up in down in Colombia. You hadn’t even known about his death until this moment, your suddenly resurfaced traumatic memories aside. 

Since that day, the memory of that single gunshot had tormented you. Had Tim known it was coming? Did he think about Angela and the kids right then? Had he prayed they would be okay without him? How terrified must he have been? You knew how scared you were in that bedroom, how fearful you had been during your second round of torture, sensing that this wasn’t going to end with the doctor treating you as it had the last time (which had now been confirmed that your instinct had been spot on). You could only imagine how he must have felt in that final moment.

The nightmares proceeded to get even worse and you were afraid to be left alone in your hospital room. Though your father and the medical staff had assured you that you were safe, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t, no matter how irrational you knew you were being. Eventually, your assistant Luna started working remotely from your room to keep you company and your father had hired two full-time bodyguards to watch over you: Owen during the day and Simon at night. When the nightmares became practically unbearable, that rotation switched. For some reason, you felt safer with Owen there. Perhaps it had to do with his look, specifically his salt and pepper beard…you briefly remembered the feeling of a beard underneath your bloody fingertips though you couldn’t place the face it belonged to. You had a feeling it was connected to the green you remembered, that you clung to in the tumultuous sea of mayhem that was the night you were marked to die — the green that you associated with your rescuer. Why you couldn’t recall his face, you had no idea, but you chalked it up to your brain once again trying to make sense of the chaos that reigned inside your head. 

Green continued to symbolize safety and reassurance for you. So much so that when Luna brought a bag of clothes for you to change into for your beginning rehab sessions, you immediately picked out an olive green hoodie she had selected from your closet and set it aside. You took to holding it close as you slept, letting the scent of home attached to it wash over you as you closed your eyes. When you would wake from your nightmares, sometimes gasping for air that wouldn’t come, sometimes crying, or sometimes screaming, you would see the hoodie next to you and grab it, holding it close until you could either breathe again or calm back down. It became a source of comfort for you and long remained that even after you were discharged. 

Your doctor had recommended therapy in addition to the outpatient rehab you would be continuing but truth be told, you weren’t in a rush to relive anything or even unearth something that might somehow be worse than what you already remembered. Your father had also dismissed the idea of therapy, saying that focusing on regaining your ability to walk without the assistance of crutches would help, as well as getting back to concentrating on work. You didn’t agree, you knew better, but you also allowed his view to become your excuse, solidifying your refusal to deal with the trauma you had suffered. After all, you were still here, still breathing — as long as you kept reminding yourself of that, you would be fine. 

So you did as your father insisted: you focused on your physical therapy and you slowly found your way back to working full-time. You had graduated from crutches to a cane. Your doctor said your knee was healing nicely and right on schedule, which made you glad that you had listened to him and not your father’s initial suggestion of a knee replacement. You still felt a twinge of discomfort and a whispery echo of pain when walking so you relied more heavily on the cane than your doctor or physical therapist might have liked. You may not have remembered everything from your ordeal, but the pain of the initial impact of the bat and afterwards as you were carried to a waiting helicopter to take you to safety was still a very recent and clear memory for you. You doubted you would ever forget it as long as you lived. 

Eventually, you returned to your office and you accepted the well wishes all around. You had no idea what they had been told about your obvious injury or what had caused it but thankfully, no one questioned you. You had been in brief touch with Meredith and the others in the days after your initial surgery back in Colombia but not since then. You had been so focused on your recovery and processing the news of Tim’s death that, truthfully, you hadn’t thought of much else. Even though Luna had been working from your hospital room for a time and she kept you apprised on all developments as well as anything that required your attention, you knew your father had instructed her to keep it all to a strictly need-to-know basis until you were finally ready to fully take up the mantle again. And because you were already dealing with more than enough, you allowed it and didn’t push for more than she told you. So the guilt consumed you when you were informed that Suzanne had resigned and Pat had taken an early retirement to be able to spend more time with her kids and grandkids. Rob had taken a position at another company, though Jerry and Meredith were still there. However, Meredith worked remotely most days, something she had worked out with your father while you had been out. You wondered if it might have been a result of Meredith initially refusing to sign the NDA, a sort of compromise to get her to agree to keeping your ordeal under wraps. You made a mental note to reach out to all of them so you could at least check in to see how they were doing. Jerry was in Research; you’d stop by there later.

As tough as all of that had been to learn and stepping back into the swing of things proved to be a little more complicated than you thought it would be, the most difficult moment had been when you went up to Design. Seeing Tim’s office not being Tim’s anymore had left you reeling. Your father moved fast and had hired his replacement within days. From a professional perspective, you more than understood; the business still had to run after all and Design was one of your most crucial departments. But knowing it and seeing it were two different things. The nightmares were particularly brutal that night. You kept hearing the gunshot, kept seeing one of the kidnappers with their cell phone look over at you afterwards and give you the most terrifying smile. Even the hoodie hadn’t helped. When you looked at it, you didn’t see green anymore but red. A very bold and wet shade of dark red. You tossed it away from you and screamed, bursting into sobs as you rocked yourself back and forth in a soothing motion. 

You had immediately called out sick the next morning and spent the rest of the day in bed, alternating between crying and staring blankly at the TV on the wall. Later on, when you could think clearly again, you gave yourself a stern talking to. You were here, alive, and you had hundreds of people looking to you to lead them. You refused to dishonor Tim’s memory by hiding away in your apartment for the rest of your life, no matter how appealing the option might feel. You could hear your father’s voice in your head again, pushing you, telling you to get back up and go to work, to be the best you could be.

And sure enough, you heard his voice for real the next day when he walked into your office. “What is he doing here?”

You glanced up and looked over where he was pointing to see Owen sitting in one of the chairs off to the side, watching you both. You pressed your lips together and shut the portfolio in front of you. “His name’s Owen, Dad. You know that. And he’s here because I asked him to be.”

Your father looked quite displeased with that. “I dismissed him and the other one last week. We talked about this.”

You let out a quiet sigh and sat back in your chair. “I know but—”

“It’s not a good look and it certainly isn’t good for morale. The cane you still insist on unnecessarily using is bad enough. Do you think people around here aren’t asking themselves or each other why you have this man sitting in your office, watching your every move?” 

You leaned forward and lowered your voice. “Dad, I get that. I do, but I need—”

“Is this why you called out sick yesterday?” You briefly dropped your gaze to your desk. You didn’t really want to talk about that or how despondent you’d been in your bed for hours until your alarm went off, jolting you into grabbing your phone and making the call. Your father’s eyes softened though his tone didn’t. “Honey, what you need is to dismiss him, permanently, and get back to your life, to your work. Don’t forget, you’re at the helm of this ship and everyone’s looking to you to navigate it seamlessly through the waters.”

Your jaw clenched and for the first time in your life, you were about to draw a line in the sand between what he was telling you to do and what you knew you needed to do. “I’m aware of that and I can’t steer the ship unless I feel safe. Owen here,” you nodded in the man’s direction. “Makes me feel safe. With him present, I can focus and get the job done. So, Owen is staying until I say otherwise.”

Your father’s own jaw tightened. “I’m not paying for more—”

“You’re not. I am. And believe it or not, while I’m doing what’s right for me, I’m also doing what’s right for this office, to ensure our complete success. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some reports from Research to review.” You slipped your eyeglasses back on and reopened the portfolio in front of you, scanning the contents.

You glanced up when your father stepped closer to your desk, his voice lower than before though his now angry gaze burned into you. You should have known by dismissing him in that manner after standing your ground, what it would do. “I’m going to strongly suggest that you finish up with Research and take your lunch out of the office. Perhaps outside. It’s a beautiful day and a dose of fresh air might just be what you need.” He gave you a curt nod and then swiftly left the room. Once he was gone, your shoulders deflated and you slumped back into your chair. You knew your father loved you and he only wanted the best for you, for you to succeed, but sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if it ever came down to the choice of you or the business, who would he choose? He already chose. You blinked the rapidly forming tears in your eyes away at the thought that had popped into your head out of nowhere and carefully got to your feet, reaching for your cane. 

“Owen,” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him immediately stand at attention. “I think we’re going to take my father’s advice. He’s right. It is a beautiful day and I would like to take full advantage of it.” He moved towards you, watching as you moved to the corner and slipped on your light coat. “I’d prefer to be anywhere that isn’t here,” you mumbled, grabbing your handbag. 

You carefully made your way across your office with Owen following right behind you, ready to assist if need be while also keeping an eye out. You called out to your assistant as you passed her by, “Luna, I’m going out for lunch today. Please hold all calls until I return.”

“Of course, Ms. Y/L/N. If Research calls while you’re out, is there anything you would like me to tell them?”

You thought it over for a moment before turning towards the elevators. “Tell them I’m still working on it. Thank you.” And for the first time since you’d started in this company, you left without getting the job done. The thought didn’t sit well with you, you had always been conditioned to complete all of the tasks set out before you, no matter how late you might have to stay to complete them. But at the same time, it oddly made you smile a little.

So here you were, in Central Park on a gorgeous fall day, having taken your father’s advice to heart. You took every single one of your lunches outdoors now unless it was raining or too cold to sit outside for long. You always marveled at the fact that you had lived in New York City for close to two years and you had never once taken the time to stop and notice what surrounded you on a daily basis. You had never taken in the present moment, never taken an opportunity just to be, to sit quietly and listen. The bench you were on by the lake had quickly become one of your favorite spots. You could relax and indulge in the art of people watching, take in all of the sounds, sights, and smells around you. Truth be told, it was the best part of your day. 

Owen stood sentry not too far from you, giving you enough space but also ready to intervene at any moment should he be needed. Despite sitting in a park in the middle of one of the most crime-ridden cities in the country, you felt beyond safe. Owen would never let anything happen to you and being in public, around people living their everyday lives…you felt the safest you had in a long time. A feeling you ended up trying to replicate by looking up Central Park ambience videos on YouTube and playing them while you fell asleep though it didn’t always manage to keep the nightmares away. But you expected that; trauma could be a real stubborn pain in the ass.

But right now, sitting here like this, you were okay. That is, until someone decided to sit down on the opposite side of the bench you were on. All of the times you had sat in this spot, you had been left alone, free to claim this bench as your own for the hour or so you’d spend here. Now, someone appeared not to have gotten the unofficial memo. Out of your peripherals, you saw Owen quickly approaching, most likely intending to tell the stranger to move to another bench, when the person glanced back at him, holding a hand up.

“Relax, man. I appreciate you looking out but I’m not here to hurt her, alright? I’m just here to talk.” The second you heard the voice, your gaze snapped over to the man across from you. You immediately recognized it; it was one you’d heard in your nightmares over and over, telling you to stay with him as you desperately clung to his hand until the kidnappers snatched you away. Was it even possible or were you just imagining this man had spoken to Owen with that voice?

When the man turned back to look at you, you recognized the green eyes immediately and a small lump began to form in your throat. Sure enough, he had a beard, one that looked startlingly familiar when you warily prodded at the memory, trying to recall it. A flash of his face, dirtier than it appeared now, popped into your mind. As if it had been patiently waiting all of this time for you to simply reach out and grab a hold of it. Tears began to burn in the corner of your eyes; it was him.

“It’s you,” you choked out in a whisper without really meaning to. 

The smile you faintly remembered graced his face. “It’s me,” he confirmed.

You stared at him, truly dumbfounded. “How?”  

“I told you I’d find you.” 

You nearly started crying when the familiar words floated up from your subconscious, the phrase you had somehow forgotten in the midst of everything. But you remembered it now, as clearly and vividly as the man sitting before you who had said it. You had been about to pass out in the makeshift surgical room, crying and holding onto him tightly, afraid to let him go. “Will I ever see you again?” “I’ll find you.” 

“I made you a promise and I intended on keeping it.” His green eyes softened slightly, much as they had all of those months ago as he caught every single tear that rolled down your cheeks as you succumbed to the drug beginning to course through your system. “I’ll find you.”

And find you he did.

A little preview of the next installment:

Still sensing your discomfort, Russell immediately lifted up and peeled his shirt off, revealing his bare skin to you for the first time. Immediately, you noticed a small bandage wrapped around his left arm.  “What happened?” You gasped, sitting up and gingerly running your fingers below the bandage line.  He shrugged and looked down at it. “Got shot on a job.” Your jaw dropped and when he glanced back up at you, he must have seen the worry that was consuming you because he immediately chuckled and affectionately cupped your chin. “I’m okay. Besides, that’s not what I wanted to show you.” He took your hand in his and moved it to his other shoulder, guiding your fingertips over skin that was jagged, puckered slightly, and silver-looking. “Shot.” He then moved your hands down his side until it reached a decent sized line that was anything but smooth. “Stabbed.” Your hands moved again to right above his abdomen. “Cut.” They moved once more and ended up on his clavicle. “Cut from an attempted stab.” You winced as he mentioned each injury he had received; they had all been the result of violent means. He moved your hands up to the upper tip of his right ear. “Bullet graze.” There was no scar there to speak of but you could see the tiniest bit of difference between his ears in that area when you looked closely.  He finally brought your hand to rest over his heart, holding it there. “Sofia.” Your brows furrowed in confusion and he smirked over at you. “Cute little waitress in Costa Rica. Gave me one hell of a weekend and then left me high and dry for some young British guy who showed up at the beach and hadn’t yet run out of money.” You scoffed and yanked your hand from underneath his, making him laugh, as you crossed your arms. He moved closer to you, cupping your cheeks and staring into your eyes. “I’m kidding about that last part. The rest, I’m not. I’ve got plenty more on my back and even a few on my legs. A couple more on my arms. We all have scars. They’re just reminders of battles we’ve fought and survived. Don’t be ashamed of yours.” A tear escaped and rolled down your cheek but his thumb caught it. He pressed his forehead against yours and murmured, “You’re beautiful.”    When he looked at you like this, spoke softly to you like this, you genuinely believed him.

A/N: Coming very soon. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for Part 2.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[totowlff]

chapter thirty-eight — on the cover

➝ check now the new issue of karriere by der standard magazine!

➝ word count: 2,6k

➝ warnings: none

➝ author’s note: well, the hiatus is over. after a few turbulent months in my personal life, with a layoff and a hiring involved, in addition to depressive episodes, i am finally back in front of the keyboard to continue writing my stories. i appreciate the kind messages i received from everyone who still wanted to read more about elisabeth and cassie. they were of paramount importance for me to go ahead. i hope you like this chapter.

SEPTEMBER, 2017

A Flower Blooms On The Asphalt 

Toto Wolff and Elisabeth Lauda talk about business, family and the next step in the relationship that rocked the world of Formula 1

By Rosa Winkler-Hermaden

They say that first impressions are lasting impressions, and the first impression one gets when watching Elisabeth Lauda and Toto Wolff together is that they are not your average couple. Both possess a presence that's impossible to ignore, courtesy of his tall stature and her piercing blue eyes, and the sense of poise and seriousness both of them exude, even in a setting as relaxed as this one.

Watching the two settle down on the sofa for the conversation, held in the couple's penthouse located in the Innere Stadt, it's hard not to not get the impression that the two of them are indeed “Austrian motorsport’s royalty”, a nickname given to the couple by the reporter Ted Kravitz, of Sky Sports F1. Considering who we're talking about, it's a very apt way to describe the couple, even though they vehemently deny it.

“It's a definition that I find funny, but I don’t necessarily agree with it. Neither Elisabeth nor I expect things to be done for us, let alone have figurative roles on the team. We are two completely normal people, we work and strive to provide the best working environment for everyone on the team”, Toto says, while holding his partner's hand.

“I think who my father is lends itself to the description, but I don’t really think it’s an accurate view of who Toto and I are as people. Like he said, we are completely normal people. We were just lucky enough to find each other in the middle of all this mess”, Elisabeth tells me, which makes Toto smile, his dark eyes glued to the small diamond sparkling on her left ring finger. The mess she is referring to, of course, is Formula 1, a world that today is the backdrop for, according to magazines and newspapers across Europe, “the greatest love story in sport to date”.

It’s a story that all starts in downtown Vienna.

Mixing business with pleasure

As her surname suggests, Elisabeth Lauda is the youngest daughter of three-time Formula 1 champion Niki Lauda and his wife of over 40 years, Marlene. With her beauty inherited from her mother and the acerbic personality of her father, she grew up between Austria and Ibiza, with a period in Italy in the 1990s when Niki worked for Ferrari. With a life between the Spanish island and her home country, as well as a few years studying at the Lycée Français in Vienna made her a polyglot. In addition to her native German, she speaks Catalan, Italian, French and English. “We're even on this one, we both know five languages apiece”, Toto comments, with a mischievous smile.

With two business degrees and an MBA from the University of Vienna, Liesl, as Toto calls her, was never interested in the world of motorsport. She says that she always preferred to work together with her father in his business outside of racing; the management of airlines and other investments he’d made in the early 2000’s. 

“My father always said that, for matters related to Formula 1, he was in charge. I was never even tempted to delve into that world, that was something he did with my brothers. Things started to change when he received an invitation from Daimler to buy shares in Mercedes-Benz GP, which meant he would take the position of non-executive director of the team. He asked me if I wanted to help him with the project, and so, Formula 1 became another business interest of mine”, Elisabeth says.

Unlike his partner, Toto Wolff fell in love with speed in his late teens. He didn’t grow up watching racing, despite the fact that he does recall watching his father-in-law compete on television. After watching Philipp Peter, a friend of his from Vienna, compete in German Formula 3, the young man became convinced that this was what he wanted to do with his life. However, his reality was quite different.

Growing up in an upper-middle-class neighborhood in Vienna, his life changed drastically when his father, Sven, was diagnosed with an incurable form of cancer. It wasn't long before the business went bankrupt and his parents separated. Joanna, his mother, was left having to care for Toto and his sister, Lili, as a single mother. The dream of being a driver seemed distant, especially with his family’s financial difficulties. However, by pooling the savings from some Christmas and birthday gifts, Toto was able to buy (ironically) a SEAT Ibiza to start racing in Austria. 

However, his fairy tale was short-lived. After a few unpromising seasons in Formula Ford and without the support of his main sponsor, who pulled out after the death of Roland Ratzenberger in 1994, he found himself taking another path.

“I entered university in a Business course, but ended up dropping out after I got an internship at a bank in Warsaw. I thought I would learn more in the real world, so I dove in. It's not something I really recommend, but, at the time, it seemed like a good idea. I learned a lot about investments and how to read the markets there, so that was a good thing” ,Toto says. He built some wealth by making lucky investments in early tech startups, which gave Wolff the chance to fulfill another dream: owning a Formula 1 team. 

He became an investor first in HWA, a motorsport supplier that ran the Mercedes DTM factory team, which eventually led to him investing in the storied Williams F1 team. His work with Williams caught the eye of Wolfgang Bernhard, part of the board of directors of Daimler, the parent company of Mercedes, in the summer of 2012. Mercedes had re-entered Formula 1 in 2010 after taking over the Brawn GP outfit, and struggled in its first two seasons back in the sport. After a meeting with Dieter Zetsche, chairman of the board, he was invited to buy shares, along with Niki Lauda. “The turning point”, according to Wolff.

The couple's first contact was in September 2012, at a dinner at the Edvard restaurant, in downtown Vienna. Elisabeth laughs as she remembers arriving at the place with her father after an unexpected delay, as well as the moment she saw Wolff for the first time.

“My father arrived at the table, started greeting everyone and I started to ask myself why I was there, since I didn't know anyone, I hadn't participated in any meetings, I wasn't directly involved in the operation. Until he”, Elisabeth says, turning her head toward Toto. “He got up to talk to my dad and all I could think about was how beautiful his smile was”.

Wolff is more direct about his first impression of Elisabeth. "I'm a bit of a pessimistic man and particularly skeptical about love. I've been married and divorced once, so I figured the whole “romance” thing wasn't for me. And then she walks into the restaurant and it's like my heart said 'wait, I think we can try again'. And I decided to give it a try".

Although they didn't really talk much during that first dinner, they did get a chance to grow closer over lunch in Singapore. “The way he told me about his life, the details, the twinkle in his eye, that enchanted me. It felt like I was talking to someone I had known forever. There was a feeling of familiarity, of comfort. It was like I had finally found my home”, Elisabeth says, as Toto kisses her on the hand.

However, the couple took a while to get together. There was some hesitation on her part, especially considering her involvement in the team’s operations, given who her father is. “I feared how our involvement might look to others, especially investors. As much as we had a known and public friendship, at the negotiation table it could sound as if we were in collusion, which was not true”, she says.

That hesitation meant that each of them stepped back from their burgeoning relationship. Toto even had an affair with a French model in the meantime, but it didn't last long. “I couldn’t get Elisabeth out of my head,” Wolff explains, a shy smile on his face. Shortly thereafter, the two kicked off their relationship, which was surprisingly well-received by both of their families.

“Everyone’s reaction was something between 'finally' and 'I already knew', so I think we were just postponing something that was going to happen one way or another all this time", Elisabeth says. “You were putting it off”, Toto says, as Elisabeth shakes her head. “I wasn't”, she replies, while Wolff smiles mischievously.

The harmony between them is visible, even when they disagree on something. And that is a key element for the results that this partnership has achieved.

Communication as the key to success

Since 2014, the team commanded by the couple has won the Formula 1 constructors’ title three years in a row. The championship for individual drivers — the World Drivers’ Championship — has been won by a Mercedes driver since 2014 as well. At this point, history is set to repeat itself, though both Elisabeth and Toto deny that it is a certainty at this point.

“The results of the last few years have been incredible, but that doesn't mean we have everything in our hands, this year was proof of that. We weren’t as consistent during the first part of the season as in previous years, which cost us points in several races”, Toto says. "Ferrari did an excellent job this year and we had to fight to recover, especially after what happened in Monaco with Lewis’ car".

When asked if she agrees with her partner's assessment, Elisabeth smiles. “Yes, at this point, I agree. Nothing we have achieved came on a golden platter, it is the result of the effort of more than two thousand people in Brackley and Brixworth. The results belong to everyone, not just to those on the podium with the trophy”, she says. They seem to be mostly in agreement on everything, a picture of teamwork and harmony. I ask about it.

“Definitely not all the time”, he says, stifling a laugh. “Toto likes to say that he fell in love with the most headstrong woman in Austria, which is accurate, I think. Contrary to what many people think, I have firm positions on things. I'm not easily influenced, especially when it comes to business”, Elisabeth explains. Despite sounding like a source of conflict, the two cite their ability to communicate as their major strength together.

“Elisabeth and I had very different lives and paths until we met. It's completely normal and expected that we have different opinions and views on things, but we talk a lot and we always try to reach a middle ground”, Toto says. “Of course, when it comes to Mercedes, given the fact that Elisabeth is a representative of her father and not necessarily a shareholder, sometimes the conversation needs to be with Niki and not with her. But we always work with dialogue, on all fronts”, he completes, while his companion nods positively.

Of course, they can’t avoid all conflict, and Elisabeth confirms this herself. “We are still a normal couple. We argue, we try to understand each other, and we try to put our best vision on the table. But the fact that we managed to make our relationship work both in the workplace and at home is a sign of our maturity, I think”.

When asked if dialogue is the key to the team's success, the couple looks at each other, smiling. “It's difficult to attribute all the success of recent years to a single factor. But, I believe that communication, not just between the two of us, but within the organization, is extremely important”, Toto responds.

At this point, Elisabeth says that she wants a cup of coffee, and offers one to her partner and me. Toto refuses, giving his partner a good-natured jab about her caffeine intake. “I only appreciate the finer things in life”, she replies, planting a kiss on his cheek before getting up and heading to the kitchen.

A bright future

As we enjoy an espresso together, the couple talks about housekeeping and decorating. I ask about the pictures on the mantel above the fireplace. There are pictures of the couple by themselves, pictures of Toto’s two children from his previous marriage, and pictures of the Lauda family. Looking at all of it at once, it is impossible not to admire how the two of them have created a brilliant professional and personal life.

But, what about the future?

“We both intend to stay at Mercedes for a few more years. It's a long-term project, for both of us”, Elisabeth responds. "We renewed our contracts at the beginning of this year, until 2020 at least, then we will remain in the paddock for a few more seasons".

“We're both on the same page in that regard. We both have ambitions and desires in common and we know that, together, we will be able to achieve them”, completes Toto. When asked what those ambitions might be, he smiles. “We want to take Mercedes to the top, make everyone recognize it for the greatness it has. The brand has spent a long time away from Formula 1 and we both want to recover the lost decades. So far, I think we’re succeeding”.

They have more intimate, family-related desires as well. “We want to provide the best environment for them”, Elisabeth says, pointing to one of the photos of her stepchildren. “Have the best experiences and be happy. We make a great effort to have as normal a family life as possible, considering their routine, their mother's and ours. Fortunately, we are also having success”.

However, it is not their only wish. “We're also thinking of expanding the family”, Toto comments quietly, as Elisabeth jabs him with her elbow. Laughing, he explains. “If it were up to me, we'd already have a little boy running around the house, but Liesl is more traditional. First love, then marriage, then the baby”, Toto says, while Elisabeth blushes.

Asked about motherhood, she gives a shy smile. “I have a big family and I already have two nephews, so having kids has always been on my mind. After my stepchildren came into my life, I felt that desire grow even more. But it's not something immediate, especially considering our routine”. “And the fact that we aren’t married”, Toto adds, smiling.

When I ask about the ring on Elisabeth’s finger, she and Toto look at each other with knowing smiles, almost as if they were deciding whether or not to share the news. “Yes, we’ve taken the first step. We are engaged”, Toto finally responds. “Personally, I never imagined that I would be engaged after forty, but life hides some admirable surprises, and one of them was Liesl”.

When I ask her about the proposal, Elisabeth gives me a smile. “It wasn't traditionally romantic, but it was extremely meaningful for both of us”, she says. “I had thought about proposing during the days we spent in Ibiza, but I ended up not getting it. It ended up being here in the penthouse, inside the office, which was still meaningful for us”, Toto says, his thumb stroking the skin of her hand.

They don’t yet have a date or venue in mind, but both of them agree that it will be a small, private affair. “It's something we agreed on regarding the event. No crowds or spotlights. It will be something private, for us to share this moment with the ones we love, nothing more”, Elisabeth explains.

Asked if they feel that is the logical step to be taken in the relationship, Toto is adamant. “Yes. There is no one else I would want to be with in this world”, he replies, before putting his arm around her and giving her a kiss on the cheek. 

It is impossible to doubt him.

[seat-safety-switch]

My local small hardware store was destroyed decades ago. An uncaring foreign mega-corporation swooped in and bought the whole chain. It turns out that when you buy a struggling small hardware store, it doesn’t suddenly become magically profitable because it now has your visionary leadership and MBA-driven artificial metaminds at the helm. So they did the next best thing to doing a good job, and started shutting down stores, including my own one.

As a teenager, this was particularly ill-timed. Now, rather than being able to ride my bicycle through the big field behind the church to get potato gun materials, I had to take the bus to go to the big chain store. And at the big chain store, they didn’t have Bob. Bob was an old dude who worked the front bench at the small hardware chain, and he had lived a lot of lives before he ended up stuck in the asshole of the universe, giving advice to suburbanite dads about what kind of nailgun to use to assemble a birdhouse kit.

I was afraid of Bob as a kid, mostly because of his gruff demeanour and general no-nonsense attitude. When I grew into a teenager, I was still a little afraid – but the desire for knowledge surpassed that. For that one summer I had him, I asked Bob about everything I could think of. House wiring codes. How an internal combustion engine worked. Who Faulkner was. Why he was hiding in our town, had obviously changed his name, and kept going on break whenever a neighbourhood cop came into the store. And then I bought a bunch of stuff, because that was what Bob was there for: to tell me to get the good shit, instead of the bad shit, because life was too short.

Once the store was sold, I never saw him again. It was as if his existence was inextricably bound to that of the store, a sort of forest fairy who was destroyed when the spell was broken by bylaw enforcement. In adulthood, I assume that he still lived in the general area and simply found a new job after the new owners pushed a background check (or tax withholding) upon him. Sometimes I wonder where he ended up; maybe he’s wandering around French hardware stores now, telling Gallic teenagers about the standards body behind Romex.

Would he be proud of the man I’d become? No: he was a dyed-in-the-wool Ford man, Bob was. And I don’t shoplift nearly enough from the big hardware store.

[kremlin]

So you wanna be a master of business administration huh??

Well kid i don’t blame u. who doesn’t want to be?? much like the president everyone wants to be mba because we make the most money, are the hottest and coolest careers out of all of them. By a LOT. But it is not so simple you see………much like the USA president there can only be a few MBA so your Competition (vocab words are slanted like this remember). That means instead of being the best guy in your school you gotta be the best guy at business in the WHOLE state minimum! because, if u r not then the guy that beat u will (thus taking your spot). He is your Competitions in this scenario.

in the course of this document i will provide to u some knowledge on how to become a mba as well as some tips and tricks and even some insider baseball (secrets!!!). Much like the navy seals who killed osama bin laden we are an elite group and most folks will not even be able to understand this shit even if they try really hard. to them i say…

“Such is life; thems the breaks” - anonymous scholar.

What earns our right to be the baddest mothertufkers, richest pimps, and straight up the most gangster ballers out there? It’s simple dumbass

rule #1 : It Is Because We Work The Hardest Out Of Everyone Every Time Wvery Case And If We Didn’t We Wouldny Make The Most Money!! this shit is sooooo simple it is literally 1+1 but the avg joe is still stumped by it. It is not a matter of debate but is a matter of math. It u can argue that 1 + 1 equals 4 then u can disprove it. U can’t. It’s because…

“The universe is made of atoms and physics (math) which don’t care about xir’s feelings” - carl sagan

Stay tuned for part 2 coming soon and please ignore if some parts of this article look fucked up or wrong i got my airheaded piece of shit stepdaughter to transform it to online blog instead of normal shit for real human beings (word doc .docx) and not zoomers.

[tooneys-russo]

Boots and Broken Hearts

A/N: A new fic that I have been thinking about, it'll follow Alessia Russo and original character Willa Conti as they navigate their lives at UNC.

Chapter 1:

The right person, but always the wrong time, maybe one day they can get their timing right. Alessia grew up in the South of London, she had two older brothers and a football obsessed Father, Mario. Her weekends were filled with football, either her playing, her brother Gio playing, her father playing for a local side. Alessia had to play with boys up until the age of 12 due to there being no local girls team she could join, but that was the best thing that could have happened to her. Playing with boys had given her a hunger to be better, stronger and faster than the boys to make sure they wouldn’t have anything to say about having a girl on their team. At school she would often be picked first by the boys because they knew exactly how good she was. Her talents had her noticed by the England Development Team, she went to her first camp for the under 14 team at the tender age of 12. There she met her best friend Ella, they were inseparable from the first moment they met. They both featured in elite football academies although for opposing teams, Alessia for Chelsea and Ella for Manchester United, they would play against each other but nothing would change between them off the pitch no matter the result. When it came time for the two to take on professional contracts Ella was offered a full time contract at her junior club, Alessia made the biggest decision of her young life, well the biggest one at that time, she decided to leave everything she knew and went to college in the United States. Alessia made her stamp on the collegiate football world when she made her first start with North Carolina University.

In comparison Willa had a slightly different road to North Carolina. She was raised in Newcastle Upon Tyne in the North East of England. She was chosen at the tender age of 8 to sign her first contract with Sunderland’s Junior Academy. Willa was tagged as an up and comer, he was a 12 year old playing in the under 16 side, and was placed into the England under 17 side by the age of 14. Willa had an outstanding junior career until she was 16, she was playing in the Under 19 European Championships, it was the final, the game she dreamed of. She stood in the opposition’s 18 yard box waiting for the corner to come in. As the ball soared towards her, Willa readied herself. The ball made contact with her head, then she felt a sharp pain to the right side of her face, then darkness. The Spanish Captain had attempted to clear the ball from the box, but instead she had kicked Willa in the face. It resulted in Willa being knocked unconscious, as well as slicing the right cheek, fracturing her cheekbone, eye socket and breaking her jaw. At that moment Willa had scored the winning goal and had her short career ended. She had her jaw wired shut for 2 months, headaches and concussion symptoms for 4 months and multiple surgeries to fix the shattered bones in her face. By the time she was cleared to play again Willa was 17 and without an academy contract. Her final year of high school was frustrating, she was surrounded by her friends from the academies who were on track for professional contracts, while she was playing division 4 women’s. Willa needed to escape from what could have been, so he sat the SATs and was on a plane as soon as she finished school, playing football (now soccer) at University of California, Los Angeles, UCLA. For four years she studied hard for her MBA while also being the star player of the UCLA Bruins Women’s Soccer Team, Captain from her Sophomore year onwards. She had a passion for analytics and would run reports of all stats for coaches each game, she knew she may never make it pro but she could make a difference on the sidelines. In her Senior year she played in the National Championship game and with 8 minutes until the end of the game her knee gave way. She knew exactly what it was, her ACL.

There were three years between Willa and Alessia, she had stared at UCLA and she had now made the decision to step off the field and begin her coaching and analytical career, her knee still gave her trouble after the reconstruction, each time she kicked the ball it felt different and she knew she was done at the tender age of 22. North Carolina was her lifeline and she took it with both hands. Alessia was away on an England Camp when Willa started. Willa had begun working with Anson Dorrance, the coach of North Carolina on their current team list, looking at game footage from both North Carolina and every other team that they were facing. Willa had never watched so much football in her life as she did now. By the time she met the players Willa knew everything that she could about the technical abilities of the players, she noted that Alessia had not arrived yet as she was still at the National Camp. Both she and Anson had begun working on the pre-season preparation for the team. Once August came around Alessia was back at North Carolina and at training. “Willa this is-'' Anson began. “Alessia Russo, 9 goals, 2 assists in your first collegiate season with a conversion rate of 43 percent, well 43.28 percent to be exact. Very impressive.” Willa had a bright smile and held out her hand to shake. Alessia was surprised by the woman in front of her with the Newcastle accent that sounded familiar, she seemed to know more about her than she did. Their blue eyes met as they shook hands. “I’m Willa Conti, pleasure to meet you Alessia.” She smiled and bit her lip gently. “Pleasure to meet you too, Willa. You seem to know a fair bit about football.” Willa laughed and let go of her hand.”Hope so. Might be disappointing if I didn’t.” Anson patted Alessia on the back. “Get on the park and join the team.” Alessia ran to join her teammates who were ecstatic that she was back.

After training Willa was going through the data from each player’s GPS and footage from the session. Her phone rang with a familiar name on the screen, her girlfriend, Jennifer. “Hey babe.” She sat back in her chair and ran her fingers through her long chestnut hair. Jennifer was not pleased at all that Willa had moved all the way to North Carolina away from her in LA, where she had just been recruited into the Orlando Pride Wave NWSL team. “Hi, you haven’t texted me back in hours. Too busy with all those North Carolina girls?” Willa could hear the anger in Jennifer’s voice and sighed knowing what was coming. “I have been running training and doing the analysis ready for this week’s first scrimmage.” Willa was being drained each conversation with Jennifer knowing that it would quickly become a fight. “Of course, well I have a game this weekend and I got you tickets. Are you able to come?” Willa looked up at the schedule on her office wall. “Yeah I should be able to. Will be a good game against Portland.” Jennifer hummed in agreement. “Yeah it will be good to see you, I miss you.”

“I miss you too, I will see you this weekend. Love you.” Willa’s tone was as happy as she could make it. 

“Love you too babe.” Jennifer sounded a lot more upbeat than when the call had started. The two had met when they were both on the UCLA football teams, Jennifer was a local LA girl and they seemed to be pushed together instantly. Willa found her comforting but did admit that at times she was so focused on football that she did neglect their relationship, it was lucky that they were on the same team. But Jennifer didn’t seem to mind as long as Willa was at all the parties with her, all the games and on her arm when she needed it. Jennifer was gorgeous and could have easily gone into modelling, she had flowing brown hair that had a slight curl, bright green eyes that matched the trees when they would go hiking around California. Her skin was permanently sunkissed and a rose tattoo graced the side of her forearm. As a couple they complimented each other perfectly, Willa had mid back length chestnut brown hair that was usually in a high pony tail, blue eyes that were like a royal blue, her facial scars were only noticeable in particular light like a lion had scratched down her right hand cheek. Willa’s skin was tanned after being in the LA sun for four years, her Italian background had been particularly beneficial. On her left ribs she had a tattoo of the Newcastle United badge and the UCLA Bruin. The Newcastle badge was important to her, they were her team but they never had an academy, the only one close by who had a girls academy was Sunderland, her natural enemy. Jennifer stood at 5 feet 7 inches and Willa who stood at a comfortable 5 feet 10 inches. The two were the IT couple of UCLA Athletics and he sat next to her when she was drafted to the Orlando Pride Wave, it was everything she wanted and more, Willa opted to not go into the draft, not wanting to be disappointed. When Willa received her offer to coach and be technical analyst at North Carolina Jennifer’s response left a lot to be desired, her focus was on their future in Orlando Pride and what it would mean to do long distance how hard it would be. There was no consideration for what Willa wanted, which was all too common in their relationship. 

Willa walked into the athletes dining room ready for another early morning session, she didn’t expect to see Alessia sitting by herself with a textbook by her side. Willa filled up her plate and sat next to the blonde Brit. “Good morning.” Willa smiled warmly, Alessia’s blue eyes looked up at her. “Oh hi.” She sat back and put her fork down on her plate. “What are you doing here so early?” Alessia glanced at the bag on the ground. “You know training isn't until later right?” Willa nodded, “Yeah I know, I just wanted to go for a run at the field, test some things out.” She laughed softly. “Test some things out? Like what the grass length?” She looked back into the older girl’s eyes. “Well depending on the grass length it would change the time that it would take the ball to -” Willa noticed the joking nature of Alessia’s question and the grin she was now wearing. “Ah, um no not the grass length just wanted to check the drills we had planned. Wanting to make sure we are improving on particular things.” Willa looked down at her plate embarrassed slightly about her first answer to Alessia’s clearly rhetorical question. Alessia smiled and bumped gently into Willa’s side. “Sorry, sometimes my sarcasm doesn’t translate. Is it possible for me to come with you to see the drills?” Willa smiled and nodded, unable to answer with her mouth full of food. The rest of their breakfast was filled with casual conversation, Willa discovered that Alessia had gone through the academy system just as she did, she also discovered that she wasn’t a huge fan of the tea available to her in the dining hall. Yorkshire tea was clearly the most superior tea, although with her time in America, Alessia was now very coffee focused, Willa noted that an oat flat white was the younger girl’s order.

Willa and Alessia made their way to the field, she made Willa feel comfortable with no judgement or expectations on her. Alessia felt an instant connection to the young coach, Willa took an interest in what she had to say and never once questioned why she would leave a professional contract behind for college halfway across the world. Willa and Alessia worked on multiple drills for around two hours, by the end they were both trying to catch their breath. “How were they? The drills? They alright?” Willa looked at the blonde next to her. “Well I am absolutely knackered, but I feel good and got to work on my first touch. What did you think?” She fixed her blonde ponytail. “Your touch is bloody good already, I just need your shot conversions a bit higher.” Willa laughed and she smiled. “Oh yeah? As a Sophomore I am out-scoring some of the Seniors.” Alessia put her hands on her hips and looked at the taller girl. “You won’t be playing against these girls in England, or at a World Cup. You are going to play in the best league in the world. The NWSL is dropping in quality and that's the league these players want to end up in. Not you, you have to play in Europe.” Willa said it casually as she grabbed her drink bottle. Alessia stared at her expressions, there was no mistaking that Willa was serious, she was almost matter of factly the way she spoke. Alessia was about to reply to the quite nice comment before they heard Coach Dorrance calling out. “Willa don’t keep the players from class! She is here for an education not just to kick a ball around, if her grades drop you will be tutoring her!” Willa nodded, “Yes Sir, sorry Alessia. I will see you tonight at training,I think we will be looking at some footage after the session. I want to chat to you about some plays.” Willa handed Alessia her drink. “Thanks Willa, appreciate it.” 

Alessia counted down the minutes until training, it isn't that she hated her classes, it was just that she couldn’t stop thinking about getting back on the field. Her aim was always to get better, each session added to her knowledge. The second class was finished for the day she was walking to the field, after warm up she watched as Willa explained the drills that she did with her that morning. During the drills in the hot sun, the girls began complaining about getting tired, their shots got more sloppy and their passing became wayward. Coach Dorrance called training and they all came into a group together, Willa had a grin on her face as some girls sat down and others caught their breath. “Well, that was a fantastic session. Willa has been doing some work on what we have been lacking and how we can improve. I know you girls are tired but I will let her chat to you about what the aim was.”

Willa stepped forward half a step. “Each game goes for around 90 minutes, give or take with additional time. The training today was medium to high intensity for 120 minutes. That gives both Coach and I an idea of what level you can maintain and for how long. Your disposals and shots only became detrimental to the function of the drills in the last 5 minutes. We now know that you can last 115 minutes, at a very good intensity. This is going to give us an advantage, we will also be doing lighter sessions after game day and doing recovery but these punishing sessions will give you a mental and physical edge over our opponents. In those moments when the other team is fatiguing you will remember this training and other after this and you will know you can push further. Great session, have a shower and we will meet you in the theater for a film session.” Willa grabbed the drink bottles and passed them around to the players, when she got to Alessia he looked into her eyes. “Feel a bit better with more players?” Alessia took a large drink from her bottle and nodded. “Yeah I actually got a rest.” She said slightly out of breath after her drink. “Good, you did really great.” Willa went around to other players and chatted to them, giving them tips on their movements and positioning. Alessia noticed that Willa genuinely wanted each player to be better than they were at the start of the session, she seemed excited to be involved even if it was picking up cones or organising everything for the coach. 

As the girls got ready for the film session a few of them talked about Willa and how nice it was to have a cute girl coaching them and how they wouldn’t mind getting a few one on one sessions with her. Alessia laughed along with the girls, she was very attractive physically but it was her personality that seemed to be the best part of the Geordie. The girls made their way to the theatre and out the front stood Coach Dorrance, Willa sat up the back with a notepad, Alessia saw her and made her way next to her. “Can I sit here?” She paused as she looked at the girl. “Oh yes of course, I want to show you something.” She moved down a seat. “I will be going through with as many players as I can like this to make sure I cover everyone's game.” Alessia noticed that she flicked through her notebook which was divided for each player, she got to her and the first page was full of notes on her past season. “Last season you played as a very solid number 9, the player that would be the main option for goals, I don’t want that to change but I do want to have a look at your off the ball work.” As the game footage played, Coach Dorrance showed what the opposition did that North Carolina needed to address and work on for the off season. Willa focused on Alessia’s movement and where she would prefer her to move, “It is just as important what you do off the ball as what you do on it.” Alessia was captivated as she talked, Willa was captivated by the way Alessia played. They both admired each other's passion for the sport and their drive to make either themselves or their teams better. At the end of the film session the girls started leaving Willa and Alessia walked out together into the car park. “The scrimmage game in two days, I want you to focus on getting into those looser positions, drag those defenders out of the danger areas to allow a player to come through. They will want to follow you and not be aware of the danger that is coming. Trust me, then on the next play you come around the back and get to that back post for the cross and just knock it in. Easy as you like.” Alessia stared at her. “That easy?” She nodded. “They all know you, you will be marked tighter than a compression sock. Use it to your advantage. Goodnight Alessia, great work today” Alessia watched Willa walk back towards her car, she changed her line as she got closer and walked towards a black BMW parked with its lights on. Willa’s head dropped as she got into the car, Alessia watched and got into her own car. She had no idea whose car Willa had gotten into but it appeared she knew the person.

Chapter 2

[suitstars]

NOSTALGIA — s. rintarou smau

m.list | next

⤷ INTRODUCTIONS: 3 blind mice

yn l/n ⊹ ࣪ ˖

first year majoring in business management!! really focused on finding an internship at the moment and has been planning on getting an MBA after she gets her degree. has been childhood best friends with kuroo and kenma since elementary and is currently living with them <3 overall a good student, but HATES actually showing up to classes.

kenma kozume ⋆.˚

twitch streamer!! hasn’t entered uni yet because he is still thinking about if it’s really worth it for him. focus almost 100% of his time on streaming and has gotten a pretty loyal and big fanbase bc of it. met kuroo first, but eventually ended up meeting yn after she moved in next to his house when they were around 6. pays most of their expenses since he’s the only one with a good income at their house lol.

kuroo tetsurou ‧₊˚ 

second year business student!! double majoring in publicity and sports management. has a part time job at the gym next to their university mostly because of the free membership, but the money also comes in handy. is actually OVERLOADED with school work but somehow managing.

[unhinged-diaries]

So someone asked me where I find my hypergamy groups. Tumblr didn’t give me enough characters for a full response so here it is. Bear with me I’m high rn but honestly these are my most philosophical moments if I can type them fast enough lol.

Ok so it really doesn’t matter. There’s no one specific platform that houses all the best creators. I used to think it was TikTok, then Reddit, then tumblr. The truth is each platform has good and bad, it’s your job to sift through them.

Reddit is for situational analysis. People explain their scenarios and other ppl give their suggestion on what you should do based off their experience or expertise. Since it’s anonymous things get really detailed which is good for you. If you have anxiety like me this is great because i can practice what I’d do so that I’m prepared for any niche scenario. Tumblr obviously has an anon question feature but it’s more one on one between the patron and the creator. It’s not like a giant group chat the way Reddit is. I like r/MarryRich and R/sugarbabylifestyle

Facebook is where a lot of genx and boomers live. Mainly because you can say fucking anything on Facebook. You could pledge to hler and they still wouldn’t flag you. As a result you get a lot of cut throat ladies. Some people think cut throat is good, raw and unfiltered information is best, right? Wrong. In my humble opinion a lot of “bluntness” and “honesty” is just nastiness and bad communication disguised as something good. They definitely have the advice that comes from the experience of old age however you gotta sift through a lot of bs to extract the main points. Not for the faint of heart. I follow suha deeb and Maria al massani

TikTok is great for girl tips. You know, the things your mom was supposed to teach you? Grooming, hygiene, fashion, etc; It’s a great place to physically turn yourself into the perfect girl/woman. You’ll be involuntarily fed different makeup styles and hairstyles you never even considered. I didn’t even know what a color analysis or kibbe body type was until TikTok but now that I do I feel like I’ve up leveled my look so much.

YouTube university will obviously be on this list. I love watching breakdowns and simplifications of high class topics like politics, economics, business, art, and philosophy. I love hyper fixating on niche subjects that I can bring up to make myself more interesting, adding a layer to my overall feminine aura. Fave YouTube channels are kidology, modern mba, Patrick Boyle, big think, Micheal sugrue, duke universtity department of political science, James jani, bloomberg originals, usuli institute.

Instagram ain’t got nothing for you.

Of course there’s going to be intersectionality. For example I see tumblr as a compilation of all these different platforms. It just depends on which creators you decide to follow.

This took a lot of power to type.

[serpentinesheldonserpentine]

Thank you, Mr P.

Or, who gave you a nudge that helped change your life?

I pressed Send and submitted my paper around 11 last night. I smiled because I am thriving in graduate school and happy to be learning from great professors in the best university in the world.

And I thought of Mr. P, our eight grade Social Studies teacher and more importantly , advisor to model making club.

I thought of him because I remember that day like it was yesterday. We’d attended assembly and were in high spirits by the time we got to club. Heck we missed Math for assembly.The speaker was from the high school we’d attend the next year and he introduced a new program called Distributive Education. Under Distributive Education a student attended class for a half day and went to a job for the afternoon. Half day school sounded pretty cool and going to a job made sense to us.

We calmed down and turned to the important business of making our models. After cleaning up we filed out, clutching our model boxes and heading to our lockers.

Hey Mr. W. Hold up a minute.

Sure Mr. P. What’s up?

So you liked the idea of half a day of school?

Yeah, who wouldn’t?

You’re a good student, D. Have you ever considered going to college after high school?

I..I guess not really. We never talk about it at home. Besides my dad never went to college.

I understand, D. Maybe it’s not for you. But I think it might be. Think about it, ok?

I did. And I ended up earning a bachelor’s degree ( and later an MBA) and changing the path of my life. I wish I could find Mr. P. and thank him for giving me that nudge.

Who helped you? Have you thanked them?

[boundvirgo]

mohammadali saffari, homosexual, cisman + he/him, support «—◦—→ well met, arya soltani! the godling born child of asteria. it’s been twenty-seven years and now they have answered the song in their veins. can he change the course of history with his organization, straightforwardness, and his independence? or will his perfectionism, high expectations, and stubbornness hinder him? only time will tell before this godling’s name is sung into myth and legend! updated: 04/10/2024

── DEMOGRAPHICS

full name: shaharyar 'arya' soltani

name meaning: noble king

gender: cisman

pronouns: he/him

age: twenty7

birthday: september 14

place of birth: houston, tx

class: support

── APPEARANCE

fc: @mosaffari

height: 6'1

weight: 198

eyes: brown

hair: dark brown mussed

body type: mesomorph

mods: lobes pierced, no tattoos

style: business casual

scent: tom ford - tobacco vanille

── PERSONALITY

temperament: choleric

element alignment: water

big 3: virgo sun, gemini moon, taurus rising

── BACKSTORY

'Be better than me.'

The guilt laden words of a pitiful man ring in his ear. They always do around this time…

Vinay Soltani's birthday usually hits on or around Nowruz. Lately, he spends a lot of his time in silence, breeding grounds for looking back at his life and wondering how he went from bringing in the new year explosively with joy and family to feeling like all he can contribute to his existence is constant brainrot.

Every time he looks at his son, he imagines her standing behind him. They have the same eyes. It's the darkest, most midnight looking brown, and if you look closely enough, you can see the stars in their gazes.

With her in his life, Vinay felt vibrant, he felt like he meant something, he felt vindicated, like standing in her presence was the universe's confirmation that he was right to move to Houston and follow his heart despite his family's warnings. When she was gone, he was completely lost. It's as if his guiding light was extinguished, leaving him to be the guiding light for their son, and he knew he couldn't do it alone.

Arya knew it too.

Things inside the Soltani household were bare minimum and nothing else. As a kid, visiting his friends houses with their parents was always a completely different dynamic, and while he couldn't put words to it, it always made him reluctant to go back home. This unknown feeling that something had always been missing kept him up at night sometimes, guiding him to sneak into his father's bedroom and unlock his phone to find a completely different man in the camera roll. Someone who grinned from ear to ear at everything, who drunkenly ran through sprinklers with all of his friends, and was always laughing. He found photos of his dad kissing on a beautiful woman with eyes like his own.

Some days he got peeks of that joyous, loving man. The best way to get his dad to smile was with good grades, so nothing on this planet was more important than bringing home those report cards. His dad was always busy working during soccer games and track meets, but when he brought home trophies, the grin made it more than worth it. Arya didn't find out that his dad never graduated college until he told him he'd be attending Rice University in the fall and the man broke down in tears for the first time Arya had ever seen.

Kids tend to lash out when they're not getting the right attention by their parents, but Arya was a late bloomer. His anger came retrospectively, it came with understanding. All this time, Arya just felt tolerated. After seeing all those photos and listening in on the rare times his father would reminisce with friends, he'd been led to one single conclusion. Vinay's dark, sulking depression was all his fault. So he 'just tolerated' his father when he called to check up or came to visit him on campus. He graduated with honors and with resentment sewn into his heart. He was doing what his father would always tell him. 'Be better than me.'

His MBA wasn't just a degree, it was license to do everything his pitiful father came home after work every night and sat there wishing he'd done. Arya focused on his numbers, his impact, and his research. They were all the things that earned Arya a short lived smile from his father back then. The difference is that Vinay could only give short smiles. His professional life gives him promotions and salary renegotiations and suddenly he's made partner at such a young age.

Arya considers calling his father for his birthday. They'd only spoken every 4 or 5 months for the last 6 years. It's late, so he'll probably be asleep, but it's worth a try. When Vinay picks up, his voice is rough. He sounds like he's been crying. "Shaharyar. Son. We need to talk."

Just as he goes to agree, Arya feels his very existence being called on. The force so strong it nearly forces his body into auto pilot, muscle memory taking him somewhere he's never been before. "I… I have to go. Happy birthday, dad."

[delphinesaintmleux]

FOUNDATIONS MADE OF STONE CAN TURN TO DUST

Name: Delphine Saint Mleux

Nickname: Del

Gender & Pronouns: Cis woman & she/her

Age: 47

Occupation: CEO of Serres Communications, Inc

Origins: Woodside, California

Neighborhood: Oak Gardens

Relationship status: Married

Important note: serres communications, inc is the rp version of hearst communications, inc

SUMMARY: Born to be an heir Delphine was raised and groomed to be the best and brightest. Young life was routined and disciplined from private schools to every hour plotted out for music lessons, art lessons, extra education, etc. When she came out at as a teenager her mother distanced herself from Delphine and her father pushed her even harder and forced her to hide that part of herself. She went onto Yale where she earned top honors with an MBA as well as a PhD in comparative literature. By then she was working her way through the corporate ladder within her own family's company, obviously with a bit of a leg up, but her ideas and savvy business put her in charge. It wasn't until her father passed away 10 years ago that she took over as CEO of Serres Communications, Inc but it has been a role made for her. Living In Chicago and part of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra board Delphine eventually found herself as the Director of Operations. She was dating Valentine Finch, a fabulous cellist within the orchestra, and they eventually married. Things crumbled two years in when Delphine was accused and arrested on embezzlement charges from the orchestra. Her lawyers worked tirelessly to clear her and her spouse's name but it was already too late and Valentine had filed for divorce and fled from the damage and their ruined reputation.

BIOGRAPHY

trigger warnings: homophobia, death, embezzlement

Some generations ago the Serres family emigrated from France to the United States where the opportunity for entrepreneurship was so fresh that a motivated businessman was able to create the beginnings of an empire. What started off as a venture into the newspaper business expanded into a multinational mass media and business information conglomerate over decades (over a century in total) and generations within a family.

Before Delphine had been born the empire had already encompassed newspapers across the country, television and film productions and channels, radio stations, publishing in books and magazines, and several business-information companies. From the start of her life Delphine was groomed into eventually being a part of the family enterprise. She was enrolled into the best private schools and institutions that money could buy, enrolled and involved in music programs with private instructors, a young equestrian, and societies that would only further her social standing and outreach.

Music had a stronger hold and influence on Delphine. Attending symphonies, concerts, and operas impacted her in a way that her other interests and things she was pushed into hadn't. Even with piano and violin lessons she didn't quite have the talent to really pursue music in a way that she quietly dreamed, she was much more like the business minded leads of generations past, she followed music throughout her life. It was her love of literature and language that sent her off to Yale when the time for university came around, in which, during her attendance there, Delphine earned an MBA and a PhD in comparative literature.

For most of her young life Delphine moved through it robotically. There was always a routine and an expectation. While she had time as a child to be just that the older she got the more it came about in means of acting out. Rebelling against the strict structure of her life. When she was just a teenager she lashed out at her mother during a fight, choosing that moment to hurt the woman with an imperfection: Delphine was gay and had no desire to get married and have children within the same societal norms and demands of what a proper life looked like. They, her parents, had invested too much time and money into their daughter to completely write her off despite the lifestyle they couldn't and wouldn't agree with so her father continued to push Delphine for success. Her mother, on the other hand, nearly ignored her existence after the spontaneous coming out.

Fear of rejection and being ostracized within her own family Delphine buried her sexuality. Plus, the social climate for such an outing was vastly different at the time and that only further instilled a fear and solidified her decision to keep that part of herself hidden. Throughout university she remained publicly single and kept her short lived affairs with women deeply secretive. By then she was already working within what was then Serres Corporation and post graduation and with freshly printed higher education degrees Delphine began her ascent up the corporation ladder. It didn't hurt that she had fresh ideas on pushing the company ahead in future business ventures.

Eventually residing in Chicago, Delphine branched out personally into her interests as she became further involved within the city she'd decided to call home. One of those interests was the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and what had started merely as a donation based pledge (along with season tickets) eventually morphed into being on the board and then somehow the Director of Operations. It was fitting in the sense that Delphine was accustomed to involvement in various businesses. The only exception was that this was personal and not under the then Serres Communications, Inc brand.

In that investment into the symphony she'd met the fabulous cellist, Valentine Finch, and had fallen in love with the extraordinarily talented and intriguing musician. Thankfully she'd come out a decade earlier due to being caught on a date with a woman by the media, the relationship, like all the others in her past, had been short lived but the best outcome had come of it. Delphine no longer had to hide that part of herself. Her family be damned. Already CEO and the head of the family empire post her father's death there was no way anyone could keep her from living the life she'd wanted anymore. When she and Valentine began seeing each other it turned into the longest relationship she'd had. They'd gotten married and seemed to enjoy a charmed life with their spouse. But then accusations and an eventual arrest burned that happiness to the ground.

Charged with embezzling funds the media went wild. A billionaire and head of a mass media conglomerate siphoning funds from the orchestra, the very symphony her spouse was a part of, was violently juicy to the tabloids. Every part of her life seemed to be raked over the coals and that included her marriage. It took time but Delphine's team of lawyers were able to clear her of the charges and both her and her wife's names in the process. However, by then, the damage was already done. Marriage in shambles and unable to overcome the shame, Valentine left Delphine and she now sits with an impending divorce.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for lying to my brother to bring our family back together?

I (18M) just got home from boarding school. Before I went home, I went to see my Nani and Dadi and long story short they ended up spilling a big family secret to me. Turns out my brother R (30sM) was adopted. I loved R, he was the best big brother ever, but when I was younger and had first gone to boarding school, he came to see me and told me that he loved me but that he had to go and made me promise never to ask why he left. I begged him to stay, but he refused.

I learned from Nani and Dadi that R had fallen in love with a girl from Chandni Chowk that I will call A, and that caused a huge fallout between him and our father where some harsh and terrible things were said because my father has an ego the size of Delhi. R was supposed to marry his best friend N (30sF), and my father could never forgive him for refusing to follow the family tradition of the father picking the daughter-in-law.

So anyway, after learning all this, I learned that R had gone to London with A and her family and I came up with a mission: I was going to bring R home. My mother has never been the same, Nani and Dadi miss him every day, and even though my father is stubborn as a mule, I know he regrets what he said to R.

So I went to London under the guise of getting my MBA because that’s family tradition as well, and turns out that the university I’m going to is also the university where A’s little sister P (18F) goes! She didn’t recognize me at first, which was good because I didn’t want R to recognize me yet either. So after I teased P a little, I let her in on my plan and she promised to help me because A is absolutely miserable outside of India. So P got R to let me crash at their house for a bit, and I lied and used a fake name, our father’s name, to try and gauge his reaction. R let me stay and P and I schemed behind his back and I even got A to talk to my mom without letting either know who they really are and they cried a lot and talked about how much they regretted that they couldn’t have relationships with their own mother/daughter-in-law.

Eventually, R and A’s son K had a performance at school with his classmates and P and I helped scheme a little to change the song from Do Re Mi to the Indian National Anthem in order to cheer A up. A was so happy and cried her eyes out afterwards, and then K shared a piece of advice I gave him with his father.

The thing is, R had given that exact same piece of advice to me. R recognized it instantly, and then he recognized me instantly.

After a lot of hugging and crying, R asked me if I got on the Cricket team like I promised him (I did, I was their top Batsman and hit a game-winning Six at the end of my last match) and then we hugged and cried some more. He begged me to go home, said that it was enough that he knew I was doing so well, but I begged him to come home. Everyone misses him. He refused, so P and I came up with another plan to get my dad and brother to talk. I tricked dad into thinking that I was with a girl, and he flew in to “surprise” me. I asked him to meet me at the mall, and mom’s always had a sixth sense for when R’s around. She just feels it. But before she found find him, my father did and he got upset at me, but after a loud and long argument I managed to get him to admit, at least to himself, that he loved R.

Then… then Dadi died. I still miss her so much. Her last wish was to have R help put her to rest, and thank god he did. I begged him to come home, to see Mom so she could have strength to live the rest of her life because she wanted nothing more than to see R again. Honestly, it didn’t even matter that R was adopted. He always used to joke that she loved him more than me, and I see how broken she’s become without him. He accepted because mom never once wronged him, and we used that to get him to see and talk to dad.

When we found him, he was crying in front of the picture of R and me that he keeps in the house, and the old bastard finally admitted that he regretted what he said and R said he regretted never calling back and they cried and hugged and R finally came home and my family was finally back together.

But now my dad and R keep teasing me about how convoluted my plan was to bring them back together. Personally I think that nothing less convoluted would have worked because R was so hurt and my father is the stubbornest man in India, but now I’m thinking… was I really TA for lying to my brother about my name and not just telling him it was me in the first place? He really missed me and was worried about me and I let him be worried for longer for no reason.

So, AITA?

[daiseukiis]

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⠀⠀⠀⠀￫ KUROO TETSURO is marketing and management student that plays for the university's volleyball team. his girlfriend is autumn.

⠀⠀⠀⠀￫ BOKUTO KOTARO is the cousin of autumn. he is in his final year as a liberal arts major who plays as a wing spiker in the university’s volleyball team.

⠀⠀⠀⠀￫ the journalism major of the group is AKAASHI KEIJI, who also is part of the news club that runs the university's social media account.

⠀⠀⠀⠀￫ KENMA KOZUME is popular twitch gamer that streams his plays often. he is in school for digital marketing.

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