#company registration type

[legalpillers24]

(via DETAILS ABOUT ALL KIND OF COMPANY REGISTRATION TYPES IN INDIA | LegalPillers)

[elfgrove]

New Things to Beware on the Internet

On May 3rd, Google released 8 new top-level domains (TLDs) -- these are new values like .com, .org, .biz, domain names. These new TLDs were made available for public registration via any domain registrar on May 10th.

Usually, this should be a cool info, move on with your life and largely ignore it moment.

Except a couple of these new domain names are common file type extensions: ".zip" and ".mov".

This means typing out a file name could resolve into a link that takes you to one of these new URLs, whether it's in an email, on your tumblr blog post, a tweet, or in file explorer on your desktop.

What was previously plain text could now resolve as link and go to a malicious website where people are expecting to go to a file and therefore download malware without realizing it.

Folk monitoring these new domain registrations are already seeing some clearly malicious actors registering and setting this up. Some are squatting the domain names trying to point out what a bad idea this was. Some already trying to steal your login in credentials and personal info.

This is what we're seeing only 12 days into the domains being available. Only 5 days being publicly available.

What can you do? For now, be very careful where you type in .zip or .mov, watch what website URLs you're on, don't enable automatic downloads, be very careful when visiting any site on these new domains, and do not type in file names without spaces or other interrupters.

I'm seeing security officers for companies talking about wholesale blocking .zip and .mov domains from within the company's internet, and that's probably wise.

Be cautious out there.

[mothman-etd]

I have talked a few times about Psychological Operations or psyops on here, but I would like to point out a real world example of a PO Operation that was found out recently by the Department of Justice.

Before that though, If you would like to read more about the actual position of a PO soldier, you can look no further then the PO benefits page on the US Army special operations recruitment website (https://www.goarmysof.army.mil/PO/).

Personally I feel like many people still believe psyops to be some kind of conspiracy theory instead of a fairly standard military division in almost all modern militaries, anyways onto the example.

The US Department of Justice is going after (indicting) two RT (Russian state media) employees for committing fraud and violating the Foreign Agents Registration Act.

Basically they created a front "media" company in Tennessee, translated russian propaganda videos into english, then paid right-wing influencers to promote (reblog/retweet/talk about on streams) said videos.

Three of the named influencers that I could find were Tim Pool, Dave Rubin and Benny Johnson.

I honestly have no idea who these three are, but supposedly their platforms have millions of followers. Also, some of these influencers were paid up too $100,000 a week to promote their videos and messaging.

So to summarize, Russia setup a fake company to pay American influencers to repeat their lies so that their followers would interpret those lies as legitimate since their were coming from a source they trust.

When people talk about election interference this is what we are talking about.

$100K a week is insane money for most, I am sure many people would be hard pressed to not sell their soul for that much money. Many of the videos from this media company were lies about the Ukraine war, and looking into Tim Pool it seems he also has a very anti-Ukraine stance (Audio from one of this podcasts https://v.redd.it/41xgvuri0vmd1/DASH_AUDIO_128.mp4)

I generally do not talk about my job on here, but corporations used to pay me to run seminars to help train their employees on spotting these types of attacks--mainly targeted psyops attacks from nation states to hack into their company via end user interaction.

Or in layman's terms, to help companies protect themselves from Russian Ransomware Thieves and Chinese Intellectual Property/Information collectors. Both of these being extensions of the Psychological Operations military divisions of each country.

I am really not sure how to end this post other than I am just trying to show people how real it is that the militaries of the world are spending obscene amounts of money in trying to influence your opinions and day to day life via your internet consumption.

Surf responsibility, be very wary of anyone telling you not to vote and don't believe everything you see/hear on TikTok/youtube/twitter/Insta etc etc

[kanakkupillai2007]

Company Registration in Mumbai: A Comprehensive Guide

Company Registration in Mumbai: A Comprehensive Guide

Unlock the doors to countless opportunities in Mumbai's bustling business landscape. Get your Private Limited Company registered hassle-free and start your entrepreneurial journey today! 🏙️📈

Step-by-Step Procedure for Company Registration in Mumbai:

Name Approval:

Select an exclusive business name and seek approval from the Ministry of Corporate Affairs (MCA).

Digital Signature Certificate (DSC):

Obtain Digital Signature Certificates for the proposed directors and shareholders.

Director Identification Number (DIN):

Apply for DIN for all proposed directors.

Drafting of Memorandum and Articles of Association:

Prepare the MOA and AOA, defining the company's objectives and rules.

Filing with ROC:

File the necessary documents, including MOA, AOA, and other required forms, with the Registrar of Companies (ROC).

Payment of Fees:

Submit the required registration fees following the company's authorized capital.

Certificate of Incorporation:

Upon approval, the ROC issues a Certificate of Incorporation.

PAN and TAN Application:

Submit applications for Permanent Account Number (PAN) and Tax Deduction and Collection Account Number (TAN).

Bank Account Opening:

Open a business bank account in the company's name.

GST Registration:

Enrol for Goods and Services Tax (GST) registration if it applies.

Labor Identification Number (LIN):

For specific industries, obtain a Labor Identification Number.

ESI and PF Registration:

Register for Employee State Insurance (ESI) and Provident Fund (PF) if applicable.

Professional Tax Registration:

Enrol for Professional Tax with the local authorities.

Shop and Establishment Act Registration:

Register under the Shops and Establishments Act.

Post-Incorporation Compliance:

Fulfil ongoing compliance requirements, such as filing annual returns and financial statements.

Documents Required for Company Registration:

Provide documentation verifying the identity and address of directors and shareholders.

PAN Card for Directors.

Passport-sized Photographs.

Proof of Registered Office Address.

MOA and AOA.

Benefits of Company Registration in Mumbai:

Legal Recognition:

Gain legal status as a separate entity.

Limited Liability:

Protect personal assets from business liabilities.

Access to Funding:

Attract investments and loans more quickly.

Business Opportunities:

Open doors to government tenders and contracts.

Credibility:

Enhance trust among clients and partners.

Latest 15 Questions and Answers:

1. How long does it take to register a company in Mumbai?

The process typically takes 10-15 days, subject to government processing times.

2. Is it possible for a foreign national to serve as a director in an Indian company? 

Certainly, fulfilling specific prerequisites is necessary for a foreign citizen to serve as a director.

3. What is the minimum capital requirement for company registration?

There is no minimum capital requirement.

4. Are there any tax benefits for registered companies?

Companies may avail of tax benefits and incentives based on their business activities.

5. Can a single person start a private limited company?

Yes, a single person can create a Person Company (OPC).

6. What is the role of a Company Secretary in registration?

A Company Secretary is not mandatory for all companies but for larger companies.

7. How often are annual returns required to be filed?

Once a year, it is necessary to submit annual returns to the Registrar of Companies.

8. Can a company change its registered office address?

Indeed, a company can alter its registered office address upon obtaining approval from its shareholders.

9. Is it mandatory to have a physical office for registration?

Yes, a registered office must have a physical address.

10. What is the difference between private and public limited companies?

Private companies have restrictions on the transfer of shares and a limited number of members, while public companies can have more members and freely transferable shares.

11. Are there any post-registration compliances for companies?

Companies must file annual returns, conduct board meetings, and comply with tax regulations.

12. Can a company operate in multiple states?

Yes, a company can operate nationally and must comply with state-specific regulations.

13. Can a company change its name after registration?

Yes, the name can be changed, subject to approval from the ROC.

14. Can a foreign company register a branch office in Mumbai?

Yes, a foreign company can register a branch office in Mumbai.

15. What is the penalty for non-compliance with ROC regulations?

Failure to comply may result in fines, legal proceedings, and the company's removal from the registry.

Related Articles:

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Private Limited Company Registration in Coimbatore

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Private Limited Company Registration in India

Private Limited Company Registration in Ahmedabad

Related Keywords:

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[ssfinancialdigitalservices]

[aurigaaccountingpvtltd]

Are you confused about which company type suits your business plan the most? Here’s a complete guide to Company registration.

Reach us for Company Registration Online in India, We'll be more than happy to help you !

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Kindly Contact On +91-7982044611/+91-8700412557, ADMIN@AURIGAACCOUNTING.IN Or Visit Our Website :WWW.AURIGAACCOUNTING.IN

Company Registration

Nidhi Company Registration

Proprietorship Firm Registration

Partnership Registration

One Person Company ( OPC) Registration

Private Limited Registration

LLP Registration

Public Limited Registration

Section 8 Company Registration(NGO)

Producer Company Registration

Common Services

Shop Act Registration

Udyog Adhar ( MSME) Registration

Food License Registration

Income Tax Return ( Business )

Income Tax Return ( Salary)

GST Registration

ISO Certificate

Trademark Registration

Digital Signiture

ESI & PF Registration

12A & 80G Registration

Import Export Code Registration

Professional Tax Registration

Income Tax , GST Consultant , TDS And TCS Work, Import Export Consultant, Tax Audit, Company Registration, ROC Filing & Others Services.

#aurigaaccounting#auriga_accounting#companysecretary #registration #pvtltdcompany #entrepreneur #mca #trademark #trademarkedsetups #trademarks #importexport #company #corporate #incorporation #companyregistration #startup #startupindia #startupindiastandupindia #startups #startupindiahub #india #business

[lizardsfromspace]

Okay, Matrix plagiarism case postscript

One thing I didn't answer is how she got the Wachowski's timeline wrong. I still don't know, but it appears she essentially shifted their lives back a decade

She says less than a decade ago they were running a construction business, but actually, working at a construction company is what they were doing in 1986. In 1976 Lana and Lilly were eleven and nine years old respectively. I can't explain why she messed this up, beyond having to age them up a decade for the story to work

But this screencap also brings up another thing she mentions repeatedly that I didn't mention - the smoking gun in her claim is that...the Matrix ripped off her words verbatim for its opening crawl. The opening crawl...to The Matrix.

Huh?

So her story is - and unsurprisingly the timeline here is jumbled, for instance, citing production interviews from 1997 when the film wouldn't enter production until 1998 - the original version of The Matrix contained a Star Wars-style opening crawl, and this was the most directly plagiarized part of the film.

She claims this opening crawl was, in fact, in the theatrical release of The Matrix and only removed when it came to home media, because she. Because she called the FBI on the Wachowskis for stealing the idea of opening crawls from her

The theatrical cut does differ from later versions slightly - most infamously the Wachowskis made the green color filter much more green in the second DVD release, to make it consistent with the style of the sequels - but if there was a opening crawl mandated by the studio, nobody but her has mentioned it, and I find it hard to believe critics wouldn't mention it.

Because this is Dark City. She's clearly confused The Matrix with stories about the studio's meddling with the 1998 film Dark City.

Dark City was the dystopian sci-fi film that had a opening narration explaining the whole plot foisted on it by the studio, and critics mentioned it. Basically every review mentioned it (some even suggest covering your ears or muting the film the first time you see it, at least until the Director's Cut removed it). Meanwhile, reviews of The Matrix praised its opening from the very beginning: how it drops you right into things and lets you find out about its world as Neo does. It's just not possible that the theatrical release has a opening crawl no one mentioned when I can pull up full comparisons of theatrical vs first DVD vs second DVD vs Bluray. Whatever story she read either was about Dark City, or was a Wachowski saying in passing "yeah the studio wanted us to add one but we didn't".

Another thing I didn't touch on is just how much it hypes her up as a untouchable genius of cinema. For instance, she claims to have come up with the effects of The Matrix in 1983 too

(one funny part is how little she brings up The Terminator at all? She just threw it in as a bonus I guess)

I looked up how they did the bullet time effect in particular and...it would have been impossible in 1983. It's not just high speed photography; it's entire banks of cameras, placed in the right place by computer previsualization, their sequence programmed, and with all the elements composited together by CGI. Even stylistically - the true creator of the effects cited Akira as a influence, and Akira the movie didn't exist in 1983. Neither did the type of Hong Kong action film that heavily influenced it. I guess it would be possible to write down "someone goes really fast and we depict it like they slowed down time", concepts of a plan etc

But like.

She's destined to be one of the most profound master writers of the 21st century. This is a book proving she's never written anything. It has a pitch for The Third Eye, it has a second film treatment tacked on at the end, and it has copyright registrations for her sequels to Terminator and The Matrix. M. Night Shyamalan's character in Lady in the Water was destined to be a great writer too, but he actually wrote a book. He didn't put out a book with a decades-old synposis that was never finished & reams of legal documents and a bio saying, I'm one of the greatest authors of all time. Because who needs writing when you have destiny, God, and the ancient superrace living in the Pyramids on your side?

This is my for real last post on this since I ended up just depressed about it in the end. I think the worst part is, she knows she lost. But she still goes to the press telling a story she knows isn't true, and people believe her. Some of it is transphobic - "stop saying it's a trans allegory when they stole it"; some of it runs with the Christian oppression narrative (full disclosure, I was inspired to look for her book again bc while looking up another crank, I saw an interview with her in the sidebar of a religious website); but a lot of it is just people who innocently want it to be true.

One of the few pieces debunking her story is on a website called Black Excellence - it doesn't even have a byline - said this:

"There are many people, especially Black people, who wanted the story to be true. It symbolized a Black person, especially a Black woman, finally winning against the system. When Sophia Stewart spoke about how mainstream media would not give her the time of day because almost all of them were owned by Warner Brothers, some Black media embraced her. Blogs spread her story, especially the initial story on Globe that contained errors about the case.

"But the story is not true. Sophia Stewart did not become the richest Black person in the country. But that did not deter her from going on several shows and publications to tell her story."

She took advantage of people's urge to root for the underdog against a corporation - and seized on a lack of mainstream coverage to claim her story was being suppressed. But it just isn't true. Also yeah she ridiculously claims that Warner Bros owns every news website and newspaper and that's kind of funny I guess. Well, that's it. I'm never doing this again

[legalpillers24]

A Guide to Types of Company Registration in India for Startups

Starting the entrepreneurial journey in India is very exciting task. One of the crucial decisions that entrepreneurs must have to take is to choose the right type of company registration for startups. It is important for entrepreneurs to understand the different options that has been available to set a strong foundation. Let's discuss about the various types of company registrations in India specialized for startups.

Types of Company Registration in India for Startups

Sole Proprietorship: It is specially designed for solo entrepreneurs and the simplest form of business registration. A single individual will get the complete control and ownership within this business structure. One of its main feature is that the proprietor bears unlimited liability for the company's debts and obligations and his personal assets are also at risk.

Partnership Firm: Partnerships firms are formed when two or more individuals come together to run a business. Each partner shares profits and losses, as well as responsibilities and liabilities. While partnerships offer shared decision-making and resources, they also shared risks and liabilities. Clear partnership agreements are essential to avoid conflicts down the line.

Limited Liability Partnership (LLP): LLP i.e. Limited Liability Partnership combines the benefits of a partnership with limited liability protection. It offers protection to the partners from personal liability for the company's debts and obligations. This business structure is favored by the entrepreneurs for startups due to its flexibility, minimal compliance requirements, and reduced exposure to personal risk.

Private Limited Company: A Private Limited Company is the most popular choice for startups as it provides number of features including limited liability protection to its shareholders. Its other features are separate legal entity, distinct from its owners, allowing for easier access to funding, scalability, and credibility in the market.

One Person Company (OPC): An OPC i.e. One Person Company has been introduced to facilitate the solo entrepreneurship as it allows a single individual to establish a company with limited liability. It offers the benefits of a Private Limited Company while catering to sole proprietors. However, there are restrictions on the number of OPCs one can form.

Conclusion

It is a crucial decision to choose the correct type of company registration for startups in India. Each business structure has its own set of advantages and limitations. It is essential for entrepreneurs to understand their features for making informed choices. Startups can take a first step towards sustainable growth and success in the competitive business landscape of India by navigating the complexities of registration process.

[soraviie]

you assume it's unrequited.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader  ━ navigation

━ about: largely angst, some fluff; reader has a crush but thinks that it's one-sided — it's not

━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━ read the continuation in "pining for you.txt"

━ leave behind a comment or I'll stab you with chopsticks

NAMJOON | The routine itself is quite simple. The rules to be observed are only five — it leaves enough leeway to mold oneself should problematic situations arise.

Rule no. 5: don't accept any gifts.

It's the fact of nature really — humans love gifts. Like corvids, people adored their shiny little trinkets and it is a well-known fact that giving someone something makes them feel special. Adored. But since you couldn't be either of those things, it helped to cut any straying thoughts right in the bud. Hence when he offers to get a cup of coffee from the aggravatingly chique brewery across the street you decline and make a quick stage left.

Which conveniently segways to rule no. 4.

Rule no. 4: no lingering around.

The job is thankful in that way — there's always something to do. Whenever you see his silhouette from the corner of the eye which is not exactly hard — he is big — you flee to safety. If he somehow manages to round the exact same hallway you're in and tosses a hand into the air in lieu of a greeting whilst handing out one of those unfairly charming, dimpled smiles, you follow the rule and as such return a simple nod of recognition, hastily heading the other way.

Should he enter the same room, you're quick to grab anything near and dig deep into a dark corner where inevitably you grow invisible. It's a big company — there's always spaces to hide and you're just another nobody.

Safe to say you never pass him messages or even go near his studio. That can be left to your colleagues who are far more enthusiastic about doing that sort of thing.

Rule no. 3: no conversations.

That is...easy. You think.

"Hi!"

You lifted your head from where your hands were trembling around the paper forms. You regarded him with a blank stare, surprised that not only he'd chosen to talk to you out of all the dozens of people buzzing around the room but also that he was gracious about your lack of friendly disposition.

"Hello," you rasped back, becoming acutely aware of the way everyone is staring.

"You must be new," he remarked, casually plopping down to, for some inexplicable reason, sit next to you, breathing a deep sigh of content. For a second his thigh grazed yours — you shirked away.

"S'pose."

There was a steady pause of silence in which you both just...were.

"You have to write-"

"I know what I have to do."

The finger that previously so helpfully was pointing out at the blank space in the registration form froze mid air. You darted your gaze far away from his unsure, inquisitive stare, tightening your grip around the thin and otherwise helpless paper.

"I'm sorry. What I mean is...I've worked here for three years now — it's just been remote. So I know what to do I'm just..." you laid a palm on your chest — where the bubble was. The bubble that makes it hard to breathe and pressed down on your ribs with such terrible strength your vision grew hazy.

"I think I'm having a panic attack."

Yeah, it was easy to not have a conversation with him afterwards. He must be just as embarrassed as you — what with catching you as you collapsed on the floor just seconds after the first greeting.

Rule no. 2: no touching.

For the most part it's easy to observe. You don't want to be in the same room with him, let alone touch him but sometimes he's just so friendly. If once upon a blue moon you have the misfortune of being stuck with him, you've taken note of how often he reaches to pat you on the back, attempts to carry your things, accidentally bumps into you on those short walks between one location to the next. However, by now you're a professional and you evade all of those damning times of contact with mannered ease.

It is only rule no. 1 that gives you trouble. It's difficult to not think about Kim Namjoon. Not only because his face is splattered across half the world's billboards but because it is Kim Namjoon and oftentimes after long hours of dutifully observing all the other rules, you lay vapidly on the bed and break the one that mattered the most. Too much you think about him and too much time is given to dreams that would never, ever come true.

"Hey, _____________."

You jolt at the sound of another's voice, especially since the room should be empty. As you uncrane your neck from the cramped position by the router on the floor, you find Kim Namjoon poking his somewhat unkempt head through the door. And Kim Namjoon finds himself standing yet again in front of you , breaking all the rules he put between him and the danger that is you. He has no viable reason for asking everyone your whereabouts and then coming here where he confirmed you'd be. There's no merit in him checking the status of HYBE's malfunctioning router but very selfishly he clings even to this most pathetic excuse — if only to take a glimpse at you.

"Hello," diplomatically, you bid back. "The uh...cable is broken."

As a means of an evidence that no one asked for, you wave the plastic around.

"I'll go ask Haejun. She has a shit-ton of spares.''

"We can—" but before he could even reach out to grab onto you, to make you linger around just a little bit longer for the sake of his horrid selfishness, the doors are already closing behind you.

"—go together..." Namjoon lets the sentence finish in the dissatisfied silence fallen over the room.

YOONGI | It should be societally acceptable for one, on occasion, to smash their fucking head against the fucking wall. Though you've turned away from him by now, in such as fast motion there's a definite possibility of your spinal disk rupturing, the disgusting act has been caught and observed. He's caught you looking. Leering. He must be repulsed. You put back the money you've been counting for the last five minutes and with a quiet mutter to a coworker excuse yourself to the back-alley.

"Ah, I don't want to be around that gangster," she cries pathetically, spotting the black haired man at the far end of the counter. Whiskey. Top shelf. A double. The first time you glimpsed him sipping 43% proof alcohol with the ease a child would a juice box, you cursed heavens above — men such as that inevitably acted vile afterwards. Cursing, being loud, groping — it'd just be more headache for you but he was surprisingly different. As if having been aware of the ill suspicion you've been harboring, once he was done, the man brought his glass back, bowed politely and quietly rasped a thank you about your hospitality.

To this day you had no idea whether it was meant genuinely or not.

"He's not a gangster," tiredly, you cut back. Even if he was, he was a polite one. "Just pour him his whiskey when he asks and that's it."

Her lips thin from the nerves as she examines him. His hair is longer now but in her eyes it probably doesn't soften the least bit of his features. In the end, she relents and her harpy like fingers let go of your elbow. Pouting, you rub the sore flesh but quickly leave. You think he's still looking at you, no doubt judging you for slobbering.

"What?" you mutter to yourself grumpily, climbing down the poor lit staircase that led to the reeking trash bins outside. "It's not a crime to have a crush on someone."

Ah, you're a pervert, you groan in your mind, kneeling down the wall. One of these days you'll have to scratch your manager's eyes out in order to get a chair.

You fish out the pack of cigarettes from the apron and in the singular beat between one second and the next, someone speaks right next to you:

"Care to share?"

You scream and almost fling yourself into the trash all while the black haired man looks down upon you.

The first drops of rain begin to fall down on your face and you squint on the automated instinct to protect your eyes.

In his hand he's got a cigarette of his own and you scramble to get the lighter working, cringing at the shooting ache as you press it against your rubbed off skin.

"Here," you outstretch the flame towards him. He hums appreciatively and leans down, briefly putting his much larger palms over yours to stabilize the fire. You hiss in pain.

"Sorry. My hands are rough, I know," he grouses and you shake your head mutely. Jesus fucking Christ on a bike. Even just standing next to him knocks the breath out of your lungs.

"No...it's not that. Your hands are nice," your face scrunches up. "I mean they're fine."

He regards you with a slightly lopsided smirk. You cough and take a drag out of the cigarette.

"These things are not good for health, you know," he shuffles a bit, shoes scuffing against the grey pavement below. They're really shiny and now that you could focus on anything besides his cruelly handsome face, you take in the fact the fact that he was actually wearing a suit. Curious.

"You're smoking as well," defensively, you spit back and sagely, he inclines his head.

"I'm trying to quit. Unsuccessfully. Clearly," he snorts to himself, lips widening into arid, mirthless grin. You think your guts just rearranged themselves. What's happening here, currently, was the smell of the trash leaking into the bins, the cool air blowing a trail of goosebumps up your arm. Your legs are aching, somewhere down your spine there is a yet unidentified pain and both of you smell like smoke and still you've never seen a man so beautiful, despite the grody settings.

"Why you're wearing a suit today?" just at the last second you manage to bite your tongue to not call him sir. For all intents and purposes he's still a costumer. Had your manager heard of you smoking by the trash with one of the most high-paying patrons, she'd drown you in the very bin juice but this doesn't feel...forced. He doesn't feel like a customer and you don't feel like just another person in customer service.

"Are you killing someone?" you tease further, testing the edges and luckily he responds in earnest — dropping his head back and howling a mute laughter into the night.

"No, nothing so dramatic," he chuckles. "I had a...corporate event. Of sorts."

"You don't look like an office drone," you drawl, for the first time actually taking him in. That is, without the leering. As a bartender, over a time a certain kind of knowledge builds. You've seen what the poor wear, what the middle class wears and what the rich wear, and this man was certainly well-off. His suit, though nothing extravagant, is well-fitted and the material is expensive. No one of that stature would ever fit inside a cubicle.

"That's cause I'm not. Say, you don't watch a lot of TV, do you?" even in the piss-poor lighting of the foul alleyway, his eyes glimmer with barely hidden amusement. It plays on the corners of his lips as though he was trying his hardest to not smile.

"No, I don't..." you frown. "Why?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "I actually like it that way."

"Ah, shit," you drag the last smoke from the cigarette before throwing it away. "Sara always said you were into shady shit. Shame she was right."

"Sara...that's the little girl, right? One whose scared of me?"

"Mmm," you hum in agreement.

"That's good."

As your eyebrows knit together in confusion, he also puts out the cigarette with a side of yet another teasing smirk. By this point, you were growing accustomed to it. Seeing it, however, not be unfazed by it.

"I much more like you. Well," he claps his hands together, the sound falling a bit too loud in the otherwise quiet back alley. "I've got to get going. Will you be working tomorrow?"

"Uh...yeah," dumbly, you respond and the nameless man looks mighty pleased.

"Good. See ya."

He turns to walk away, leaving you alone and befuddled by the backdoor only to lean back as though he suddenly remembered something.

"These are bad for you," his hand snatches the pack of cigarettes shamelessly out of your grasp and only then he deems it fit to make an exit.

JIN | "Look, the love of your life is walking over!"

"Shut the fuck up."

It's 8:30 in the morning and the sun is already scorching. You've gotten off an eight hours flight and somehow you're still hangover. To be less verbose — you're not putting up with any bullshit. And your friend cooing in the ear the second they saw Seokjin climbing out is very much the situation you're far too grumpy to tolerate.

"I'm heading to the forest," you toss over your shoulder, making a hasty beeline to the other part of the shore where the dunes laid quiet and unperturbed. The second you're in their embrace, the tension leaves your body.

By now everyone and their mother knew of the gargantuan and utterly mortifying crush you had on Seokjin. To this day they continued to humor it in the same way they did when you were younger.

"Ahh, look, Jinnie, little ___________ has a crush on you! They even made a card!"

And because you were fourteen and it was a time of great hormones, and you'd still rather kill yourself than ever reveal to older Kim Seokjin outright that you liked him, to everyone's shock, Jin's in particular, you ate the paper card in front of him, growling in between the stiff, glittery bites that obviously you meant a different Seokjin. Seokjin who obviously went to your school even though no one could ever verify his presence.

It's been years and by now you're well out of middle-school but the pathetic squeezing of your heart whenever you saw him, whenever you found yourself in the center of his focus has not yielded. How many years will this continue to drag on? Will he need to be married for this to relent?! With kids?! Dead?!?

With a pitiful groan, you let your forehead hit the dry bark of the nearby tree.

"Ah, fuck."

"Always such a potty mouth."

Anyone else might have taken a glimpse at Jin and pronounced that there was some truth to children's stories where selfless, glamorous princes rode about. While Jin is decidedly not a horse (he could barely even walk as the sand proved to be quite an obstacle), he does look like a prince — carrying a blanket and a small, mysterious bag.

"You get so cold quickly," he half-heartedly scolds, tossing the blanket your way. "Why even come here?"

"You get cold as well," irately, you point out, tugging the fleece around your bare shoulders. Only then you did notice that you were actually freezing.

"I came prepared," carelessly, Jin replies, yanking from some invisible space yet another blanket. "I might be devastatingly handsome but I'm not a bimbo."

"Shame. I happen to like bimbos."

At this point you're just saying shit.

Jin blinks and then with the sincerity of a well-seasoned actor, regards you with a confused stare, face mere millimetres away from yours.

"What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?"

Nervously, your eyes flit all around his face as you inadvertently swallow from the abrupt proximity.

"I don't know," breathlessly, you answer. "What?"

"Sofishticated!"

Well, good news was that if he kept going like this, your pervading illness will be cured.

"Sofishticated! Get it, because it's like sophisticated..."

You leave him standing there, shouting across the dunes.

"Hey, Ji-Yeong told Cindy to tell Eun-Sook to tell Riri-"

Over the loud roar of the working stove, you attempt to clean your eyes free from the onion and give your friend a good yell.

"GET TO THE POINT!"

"JIN IS LOOKING FOR YOU! HE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"

And because you're a brave, self-sufficient person of 21st century you pretend not to hear and whenever you see a glimpse of shoulders too broad to be on anyone else but him, you run and hide.

You know exactly what he wants to talk about and thus you'd rather, much rather, with a smile on your face in fact, chew your fucking toe off. Because as stupid as you were now, you were infinitely more stupid last summer. The summer during which you got so plastered on tequila the night ended with you confusing very much real, warm-blooded sentient Jin for a cutout. A cutout which you clung onto like a mad person and proceeded to reveal that innermost layer of your heart and how much it was devoted to one very annoying millennial.

It took a lot of pasta and drinking to have the confidence to leave your home once the initial stage of wanting to rot into the sofa ebbed away. You weren't necessarily keen on repeating that week thus the running away. But you also think Jin has caught onto the games and is growing increasingly frustrated with them.

Jin wants to see you, Jin is asking for you, Jin is stopping by and so on and on and on. By now his name doesn't even sound like a word. Even so you keep the charades going, praying for the first time in your life that you could go back to work.

The time is a bit over one in the night. For the most part everyone is sleeping which leaves the back garden of the house you rented near the beach quiet and docile. From here you can hear the waves crashing and for now it's enough to create a piece of your paradise.

"Didn't I tell you that you get too cold easily?"

Cold shivers run up your spine and you quickly swallow, whipping around. The expression on Jin's face is less than impressed.

"Well, hence, I'll be going," you gift a fake smile but quickly stop when you hear what you've never ever heard before.

Jin being angry.

"Stay where you are."

He's not by any means shouting, not even raising his voice in the slightest but the tone leaves not a single space for discussion to take place.

"Sit down."

You do and sternly he watches you do so, eyebrows coming together to create a deep frown. You search for any sign of this being a prank or another one of his jokes but you don't find any. Just him standing and being fed up.

"Now, let us have that talk about last summer."

HOSEOK | It doesn't matter if both of you were adults. He was still your student and you were still his teacher. It didn't matter whether he insisted on you or not, you still should have said no and referred Hoseok back to Marina. She was a better English tutor anyhow even if he very much disagreed.

"Mr Jung, please understand, I am quitting. How can I continue to teach you if I'm not even a teacher?"

His knuckles were white around the edge of the table to which he clung to as you leisurely piled your things into boxes. These two years were good, just not good enough to stay.

"Marina is horrible," he complains, the sound falling a bit muffled through the mask but its quality of desperation is not reduced. "Please, you can't just leave! Not with all of the progress we've made!"

A bit of clunky choice of phrasing if you had to say because what progress did you make? Was it the progress of being indifferent, to growing shy around him, to dreaming about him in the middle of all the lonely nights only to then choke on all those fantasies? Because if it was that progress, it would do you some good to leave. Would do you both some good.

"_______________, please, make an exception?" he pleaded, eyes sparkling and you had felt your resolve breaking even then. "For me? Your favourite Hobi?"

With your walls falling apart, you hadn't even noticed how casually he'd referred to you.

"Stop bouncing your knee," Marina growls underneath the nose as she sips on the coffee. Her exam materials are displayed haphazardly on the table before her, littered with large crumbs of her banana and hazelnut croissant.

"I can't help it," you retort just as morose, nervously eyeing the clock pinned to the wall.

12:01 — he should be done by now.

"You're so in love with him," Marina rolled her eyes, striking a bold red line across one student's essay. 4/100. Rough.

"It's my job as a teacher to make sure he passes his tests," you brittle venomously. "If I don't-"

Before you could so much as finish your sentence, a pair of judgmental eyes sit transfixed upon your face in a heated glare.

"You're not a teacher anymore. You quit and tutor him entirely unofficially," Marina interrupts curtly. "So the excuse of it being that is redundant if anything. Moreover, he's a whole ass grown man. He certainly doesn't need someone like you to fret over him."

Just then your phone dings with an unread message causing both of your eyes to fall on top of it.

"Your prince Charming is calling," she states coldly. "Go ahead and pick up."

You don't think you'll ever hang out with Marina after this.

Hoseok 💗 sent you a message.

The heart he'd added himself, chiding you one night for assigning such a cold contact info.

Hoseok 💗: I PASSED! I KNOW IT! I'VE NEVER FELT SO CONFIDENT! 😻💓〇(＞∀＜)〇

me: I told you you could do it and you didn't believe in yourself ( ￣＾￣)

Hoseok 💗: hahaha yes o great teacher you've always been so supportive! thank you! ( ♥‿♥)

Then after a moment comes the last message.

Hoseok 💗: thank you, __________________.

As your phone grows dark, you see your own reflection — the giddy smile, the lovesick eyes. The pathetic, eager nature that is you around Hoseok. For a second you let yourself be and let your hand press the phone to your chest as if the meaningless emojis and hearts actually signified anything other than the cursory respect he had for you as his tutor. Then you gather yourself.

If Hoseok will pass his test, he'll be technically viewed as fluent and as such you will be of no use anymore.

You wipe the grin of your face, slip the phone in your pocket and walk back home, pretending that none of this is hurting you.

JIMIN | "Stay still," you scold him, immediately receiving a pout in return.

"I am staying still!" he whines.

Though you roll your eyes, you don't argue anymore and continue to measure his neck. If he wanted to layer his necklaces, you'll have no choice but to measure every chain's length to its absolute nanometer. If they overlayed too much it'd just be a mess and Jimin deserved nothing but the best.

"Now, remember, this is the bag for my jewelry," you remind him sternly, waving the grey pouch just before escorting him to the door. The night is deep. Ever since you wound up having Park Jimin as a regular client your sleep schedule has been wrecked. Thinking about the wording, you cringe, cutting a finger against one of the waywardly left awls on the table. Had your old teacher saw the mess on your workstation, the old crow would probably smack you across the face.

Hissing at the sharp prick, you cradled the hand with a juicy curse on the tongue. Jimin, who'd previously been seconds away from falling asleep (which has happened. Safe to say, having an idol drooling on your couch was awkward, just not as awkward as the morning that followed), yanks his head towards you with laser like focus.

"Show me," he insists, expectantly holding out his palm so that it can join yours. You regard it with a passive stare before taking a step back.

"It's just a cut on a finger," you brush him off, coughing from the abruptly stifled atmosphere gripping your lived-in studio. Jimin appears to be quite displeased. One of the simultaneous advantages and disadvantages of being so close to your models for such an extended time was that by the end of it you knew all of their micro-expressions like the back of your hand. From the tightened way his jaw sat to the coldness in his gaze — he was angry. Jimin was a bit like an April day in that way — always surprising you. Was it good or bad, you did not quite know.

"Here, take this," you outstretched the pouch, sucking a bit on the pricked finger. His eyes seemed to linger there before he averts his gaze, taking the bag with his jewelry.

"You look beautiful in them."

Was it a low blow? Perhaps. But it felt somewhat uneasy, problematic even to let him leave your studio in a huff. With the oncoming release of his album he was already stretched taut. You were half surprised he hadn't yet hit a complete mental breakdown by now. Just following his schedule as a jeweller made your hairs grow grey. Still, as expected the compliment mellows the bout of his sudden attitude.

"Eyyy," he complains, tad cautiously. You weren't after all friends, however, the borders of the proper behaviour became blurred the second he showed up on your doorstep outside both of his company's knowledge or permission. As far as you understood it, he actually sponsored your work out of his own pocket. You could recall that night in fine detail — having a national treasure known as Park Jimin sipping a tea out of cracked cup and asking you to create pieces for him. How he'd came to know of you, he did not reveal and after a while you ceased asking.

"You always do this," he continues, rousing you out of deep though.

"Do what?" innocently, you blink up at him. "I've committed no wrongdoing."

"You always compliment me," he pouts, scuffing the sole of his slipper against the floor. They were in the shape of large fluffy cows. You'd offered him a change but since this pair was given to him on that first meeting, he insisted he'd grown fond of them.

"You know how much I like compliments..."

That you did. Once in a while you let them slip a bit too liberally which is something you'd sincerely need to work on. Having a crush on Park Jimin, unrequited one at that, would anyhow lead to nothing. It was simply futile.

"I can't ever stay mad at you."

"Sorry, for being too charming," you flip a strand of non-existent hair over your shoulder prompting a peel of loud, disbalanced laughter. "Now, this is the bag for my jewelry. Don't mix them up with the one you're supposed to wear for Tiffany which by the way..." you narrow your eyes at him. "Traitor."

Still laughing he pats down your head, eyes crinkling in that expression of pure happiness that you adored to see so much.

"Babyyyy, don't be mad. You're still my favourite one."

Had you not been so irrevocably and disgustingly fond of this man you would have kicked him for making your heart feel like this.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you groused, taking his hand away from your head. "Now go. Good night."

"Can't I crash here?" he pleads, shifting eagerly on the spot. "It's so late at night..."

"And whose fault is that?" you arch an eyebrow pushing at Jimin's back to get him out of your doorstep. "Rich man goes home and sleeps in his rich man bed."

Sensing an easy target in your words, Jimin gleans over his shoulder, his broad smirk proudly on display.

"Does rich man have to be alone?"

"Bye!"

You watched him secretly behind the broken, off white blinds of your kitchen window. The alleyways in this part of the town are narrow, only barely could Jimin's car make way. It's no surprise that no matter what time it is, it attracts the curious glances of your neighbours. The old man at unit 4b across the road was also looking in — the shitty blue tinted light of his crap ass apartment makes his silhouette glaringly apparent in the window. You scowl at him and for a good measure throw up a bird before accompanying Jimin with your eyes. Happily he gets into the car and drives back home where he'll be safe. Now you can rest easy. Somewhat.

"Good night, Jimin," you whisper into the darkness where the only other company you had was the ever-present droning of your old fridge.

TAEHYUNG | Leaning against your hand and watching him speak you think of everything and simultaneously of nothing at all. Though it was not a crime to fall in love with your friend, it very much felt that way sometimes. Times like these when you fantasized how would it feel to hold his hand or to hug him. Not that you didn't know how that felt like. If he could, Taehyung would crawl and make a home in your ribs but he didn't understand. He didn't understand the...spectrum of love you harboured for him. From where he looked onto it the hues were all blue whilst you were far too red.

Red, as you discovered, was not that good of a colour.

"________________? You're not even listening to me, are you?"

Blinking owlishly, you stirred in the seat. The screaming ache in your muscles offers proof to how long you'd been staring at him. Pathetic. You shift your eyes away from the mix of frustration and worry in the browns of his eyes and instead let it sit where's it safe — on the impersonal linoleum cover of the cheap dumpling bistro.

"I was listening," you mumble hazily. "You were...taking Yeontan...for a grooming session, no?"

He sighs.

"Actually I said Jungkook was bitching in my voice mails about having to get a haircut. Are they the same for you?"

You think about it.

"I plead the fifth?"

In spite of it only prompting a thoroughly sassy eye roll from the nominee of 2022 MAMA song of the year, he doesn't much complain, though stuffing his face full of noodles, he does ask. You would rather he didn't.

"What's wrong with you lately? You've been...spaced out."

To feign ease you don't dream of having, you snort.

"Look whose talking."

"Exactly," smartly, he agrees still chewing somewhat aggressively. "If I notice, you know it's bad."

Averting your gaze away once more, you shrug.

"It's nothing serious."

"You sure? 'Cause I was thinking maybe you felt...lonely?"

The so-thin-it's-almost-transparent menu in between your fingers freeze as your heart drops down into your stomach.

"What makes you say that?" lightly, presumably lightly, you wonder.

"Dunno," he shrugs, swallowing a bite so large you can see it travelling down his throat. How he had not yet choked was beyond any science. "It's just you've got no pets, no friends beside me and your place is always quiet so it's safe to say you're absolutely dry in the dating apartment."

Your lips purse in an expression of such pure, unfiltered annoyance that for once it doesn't go above his head. Awkwardly, he coughs, shrinking smaller underneath the gaze of your fury.

"Thank you Taehyung," dryly, you praise him. "That's just what I needed."

"Sorry."

Were you lonely? Probably. Who are you kidding? Naturally.

Exhaling into the black winter air, you watch as the miniature clouds colour white before melting into the night. Did you love Taehyung because you were simply...lonely? Could be. Over the years he was the only one who stayed by your side. Even when you did the most to make him leave, so you wouldn't taint him with your...broken-ness, all too obstinately he'd weathered the storms out. He'd not leave you, that was the end of it. Such he promised and such was the promise he kept, no matter what life or yourself threw at him.

As the gust of biting wind rips through the street, you pitifully tremble in its hold. Shit, why was it always so cold.

"Ah, fuck, my ass is going to freeze off," Taehyung curses, coming to stand beside you just outside of restaurant. He still has a soy sauce in the corner of his lip and without much thinking you wipe it off.

You're both grasping for words.

"My hand is cold," he suddenly complains, swinging on the back of his heels.

"Should have brought gloves then," you retort grumpily. "I certainly don't need you to spend all my hand creams. Again."

He pretends to not see the acussal in your glower.

"I have an idea. Friends help each other out, don't they?"

Suddenly, you find yourself not liking the happy turn of his cheek. That smile paired with that particular glint in his eye always meant trouble. And before you know it, his hand is clasped around yours, the heat of it shooting straight down your entire arm.

"There," happily he chirps, dragging your loudly protesting self down the street. "Now I'm warm and you're not lonely. I see this as an absolute win."

JUNGKOOK | Sure, it was hard to be rendered blind in the middle of a busy street as the sky was dumping down rain with terrible vengeance but you'd still wager a guess it felt better to run head first into a pole than seeing...him.

The light of the billboard pours brightly onto the dark, grey streets below whilst the faceless masses rush to their homes, you included. He stands there, being beautiful, being enticing like a whole dream and mocks you. You can't have him and that's fine but why should you also have the sour memory of his existence be rubbed into the wound.

Droplets of rain steadily fall upon your face though you don't even notice them. Not until you've had your fill of Jungkook.

You hope he's happy somewhere in Seoul.

Coming back home, you set the soaked bags of groceries onto the table, monotonously going through the motions of the day. Many, hell, everyone, would probably say that taking a leave from a high-paying job just to come back home and live an utterly boring life was not the way to go but would they also sympathize with growing depressed about the unrequited love you had for someone who was so far out of the reach, you'd officially have to graduate space flight program in order to ever reach the star that was Jungkook?

No, you don't think so.

Laundry, cooking, laundry, watching TV, laundry. It doesn't offer much reprieve from thoughts about Jeon Jungkook but at least you don't have to look at him and be pathetic. And sure you're miserable but at least somewhat of your dignity is preserved. Even if it's the tiniest, barely existent sliver a man has ever seen.

You don't regret never approaching him. He never went out of his way to say hi, he never so much as glimpsed in your general direction if you were loitering around the room. You remember how hard it was to breathe when the time came to adjust his mic on his chest and you also remember how he'd just sat there, disinterestedly scrolling through his phone. On those rare times you noticed him watching you, there was always a distant gleam in his gaze. He was probably just zoning out and you happened to be there. On those even rarer times that you helped him, he always appeared so unperturbed. He was polite but that was it. Just a polite thank you and long, stretching moments of quiet, that was the only real memory you had of him.

In the end, the whole thing was quite embarrassing and so despite it being abrupt, it felt right to hand in your resignation. He didn't need yet another sick fucker drooling over him....neither did you want to be that person. So why not quit. Why not?

By the time it's evening, you're beyond bored. No TV shows interest you, no movies catch your attention, the span of your focus is too short to read a book and you're too tired to go for a walk. Surely it wouldn't hurt...

When your old computer turns on, it makes itself known. Unlike the sleek, polished versions of HYBE, the surface is so hot it could boil an egg and the sound that comes out of this pre-historic artefact could easily pass off as a roar of a plane. It takes about half an hour for the email to load, so much so that when you come back with a cup of tea, the screen is still suspiciously unresponsive.

Seeing 99+ unanswered messages did not surprise you, what did surprise you was the pile of messages, unanimously sent from one address.

jjkno1@navercorp.com

subject: please

The skin on your palms grow wet and you can hardly hear the rain splashing against the window with how hard your heart is beating. Shakily you press to open the email, hardly having the courage to read the words. You've no idea why the subject is named such a way but you're partially sure that somewhere along the way, he's going to call out your affection. How misplaced it is and how much he's disgusted by it. You'd understand if he did.

jjkno1@navercorp.com

subject: please

Even if...even if the year we spent together meant nothing to you, that the kindness you extended towards me, that the help you sent my way unknowingly pulling me from a pit of unescapable darkness is nothing but an empty void no more deserving of your attention than the dirt on the side of the road, I beg of you to be gracious once more. Just write to me. Just one letter is all I ask for. No matter what you have to say, should it be something as little as one singular "bye", please, write to me. I'll keep you in my thoughts, forever most likely as you've made your home in them.

Sincerely,

Jeon Jungkook.

tagging: @rmstdio; @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @jminssiii;

[fuck-customers]

I swear my boss is such a narcissistic brat. The company we work for is currently going through an audit for another state we do business in. He accuses me of accepting an invalid sales tax exemption certificate for that state and I’m confused because I’m usually very thorough. There’s a section on the form that for people who are registered in that state and get a unique tax number and another section below that says out of state retailer registration number, meaning customers can use their tax number from their own state instead. My boss says no that’s not what it means and gets mad that I would accept something so wrong. We both look up the tax law for that state and we find nothing that proves his claims. Then he said that the forms should say “drop ship” on them and again asks me why I accepted it without it on the form. I said nowhere does it say it has to say that because the form can used for various types of exemptions. He’s getting more and more angry as we’re speaking because he’s convinced I’m wrong, so I ended it by calling up that state. And unsurprisingly, I was right. Even the representative I spoke to was confused why I was asking such obvious questions. He finally calmed down after I gave him this information but said the date was missing so I should’ve rejected it and had the customer date the form. I wanted to punch him because that’s such a minor thing. We can just add the date on there, are we really going to be nit picky about a goddamn date????

He just had to justify being mad at you huh?

-Rodney

[pregnant-piggy]

Hope

Kaz Brekker x reader

word count: 5.2k

summary: left with nothing but a broken heart in Ketterdam, you decide to start life anew across the sea. but first there is someone you need to say goodbye to

The wind was whirling around your body, howling between the squeaking ships. It tugged and pulled on all sides. Stung in your eyes, but that could also be the tears you were trying to hold back. 

You weren't sure why it affected you this much. You had known from the start that it was bound to end in doom, that nothing about it would work, but you had nurtured a futile hope like it was a wounded bird. Carefully, delicately, but it had grown stronger over time. The broken shatters of your heart had allowed themselves to heal and now the seams were ripped open again. You were bleeding life. No wound had ever hurt this much. 

-=-=-=-

Your foot tapped a rhythm on the creaking floorboards as you tried to focus on your surroundings. It had been better this time. Not faultless—it never was—but better. You were in, would get the money, and then you'd be out again. Simple as that. 

Of course, nothing was ever that simple in Ketterdam. 

The papers in front of you were false. Your story was a lie. Your identity a scam. The only truthful thing about you was that you were physically there, but that was only because you didn't trust anyone enough to do this for you. You knew that you could have asked some of your old friends to do this—it probably would have been easier to let them do it. In, out, done, without having to go through the entire act. But they were still working for him. And you didn't want him included. Anymore. 

You could do this alone. You'd done it before. Stuttering and stammering so badly that they had asked you if you were alright, but in the end you'd gotten the money. This time you were prepared. 

The door opened and a tall man with grey hair stepped into the office. "Good morning." 

You flashed the man a smile. All a scam. 

He settled in the chair behind the desk. Bart Sleutel. Bart Key—ironic, considering he was the key to your plan. The small instrument that would open the door for you. 

"You asked for an early payment of your loan," Sleutel said. 

You'd tried to do honest work, but there wasn't much in Ketterdam. And you could take the person out of the Dregs, but never the Dreg out of the person. Or so you had found. 

"Yes," you said, flashing that same smile. "My landlord raised the rent and my new job won't pay out until next month." 

Sleutel raised an eyebrow. "Another new job?" 

"Yes, sir. The previous one did not pay enough to cover the rent. This one does." 

You waited for him to ask what the new job was, but Sleutel seemed smart enough not to want to know. 

"So you want an early payment." 

"Correct." 

"You have asked for early payment before." 

"Yes." 

"And you understand, of course, that while one time is acceptable, these types of things happening twice is highly unusual." 

It wasn't. You knew because you'd been living in Ketterdam for years and the city was like the back of your hand. Its streets and alleys, its people, its rules and habits. There wasn't a single part of Ketterdam unfamiliar to you. And so you knew that the bank would give you the second loan early. And that third and fourth at that too. Because it meant profit. 

You also knew because you had done the exact same thing at six other banks already. 

"We cannot make this a standard," Sleutel said. "But as the bank sees your struggle we will come forth with a proposal." 

You wondered what they did with the people that genuinely were in need of money. With the people that didn't have a fake registration at the university, that had no proof of the hard work they'd been doing to come around. Would the bank listen to them too? Or were they only talking with you because your name was registered under a company that would pay tremendous taxes to the government, had it been real?

But you sat and smiled. Listened to the proposal. You already knew it, of course. You'd done your homework. You listened as Sleutel explained the costs would be higher, that they could fine you if you did not pay back in time, that next time you came back, you had to bring proof of your payments before you could request another loan. 

You listened and nodded and agreed, smiling to yourself as there was one thing Sleutel didn't know. 

You were never coming back. 

-=-=-=-

You could hear the sea, waves slamming against waves, masses of water swirling and coiling and circling. The sea was someone's great escape. The way to get out of this rotten city and away from her ruined inhabitants. To start life anew. An escape from the trap that was laid out between dirty rivers and gambling dens and decaying architecture. 

But it was too late for you to escape from this trap. 

Like tripping over an invisible wire, you had stumbled and fallen. Hard. All the way down until you weren't sure anymore if you were still falling or had hit the ground and splattered. It was pitch black and you couldn't see where you were going, if you were going anywhere at all. You thought things had been moving forward but standing here, waves and wind and tears, you realised that you couldn't have been more wrong. 

The thing about being lost is that it isn't half as bad when you're not alone. When there is someone who will try to find the way with you. Someone whose hand you can hold. Figuratively. 

And you were so sure you had found that person. Someone willing to face the battles of life with you. To watch enemies get defeated and to celebrate the victories. Someone who had seen the shambles of your heart and didn't try to force them together but held them until they started to heal. 

Now that someone was handing you back the shatters and this time you weren't sure if you were strong enough to fit them together anymore. 

-=-=-=-

Ketterdam was a monstrous city, like someone had taken everything that was wrong with the world and put it in one place. It was a cruel beast, but at the seams beauty peeked through. A woman selling fresh fruit with a genuine smile. Two children running around singing songs. The ancient arc of a building that was untouched by renovations. When the sun slipped through the clouds and smoke and even the poorest people would find a sliver of hope in the rubble. 

Even monsters could be beautiful. You knew all about that.

That was why you had stayed so long. Why you hadn't just robbed a bank and run away. You needed to say goodbye to the city that had been your home for so many years. You needed time to say goodbye to the people that you'd miss. Time to accept that this was it. The end of Ketterdam for you.

You were at peace with it. The city had given you all it had and there was nothing left anymore. Nothing tying you to the crooked streets and flashing lights. You were done with the fights, the sneaking around, the deceiving. There was enough money to buy your way out of it now. 

But first, there was someone you needed to say goodbye to. 

You slipped into alleys no one else used, crossed bridges full of tourists with masks, and walked and walked until the streets turned silent and the houses dark. 

She was already sitting there. So still that you wouldn't have noticed her if you hadn't known she'd be there. But her perfect posture gave way to a smile and relaxed shoulders. 

"You're late," she said, shifting to make room for you. 

"A minute. The guy at the bank wouldn't shut up about the taxes." 

Inej's eyebrow quirked. "So you got it?" 

She was the only one who had kept in touch with you after everything fell apart. Friends are a dangerous thing when you're a criminal but for Inej, you'd put it all aside. The bond you had was strange to anyone else's eye but it worked. There was no time for tea dates or girl nights when you had to fight for your existence everyday but your friendship had grown in the moments between jobs, fleeting glances in the streets, caring for the other's injuries, picking each other's brains during preparations. And, of course, bitching about one person in particular. 

Inej knew of your plans. She encouraged you because asking you to stay was selfish and you kept each other's freedom as the number one priority. She was a little jealous, you could tell, because she couldn't leave yet. A little sad to see you gone. But she didn't say a word because she also knew that this wasn't the end of you yet. You'd be there the moment Inej Ghafa realised her dream and you'd do anything to make that come true. 

"I got it," you grinned, slumping down next to her. "Of course I did." 

"When do you go?" 

"As soon as I can. Staying here only enlarges the chance anyone finds out what I'm up to and I can't risk it now." You sighed, looking at the empty house in front of you. "There's a ship setting sail tomorrow night. I'll be on it." 

Inej let out a soft sigh. "I will miss you." 

You didn't want to address the pain in your heart upon hearing that. You had to go. You wanted to but you hated that it meant you had to leave your best friend behind. 

"I will miss you, too," you said softly. "All of this, actually. I never thought anyone could get so attached to a city." 

"Just the city?" 

You glared at Inej. "Yes. Just the city." 

Inej hummed, but not in agreement. "I don't believe you." 

You were silent for a very long time. All the memories played in your head and you wanted to blink them away but you couldn't. The office nights. The stake-outs under the starry sky. The impromptu dinners covered with weak lies—we were here anyway already and it will be a long night. The mornings of waking up without realising you'd fallen asleep so close together. The quick brushes of hands. So many featherlight touches you hadn't dared to believe were real. The hint of a smile. The linger of an eye. And then once, the hovering of lips, the breath on your skin, the pounding of hearts. The last time being so close. 

Then it fell apart. 

It was all in your head. The start. The middle. The end. Every single moment together and apart. Over-analysed again and again and again because you needed to convince yourself that you were better off now. You were fine. You were on your own and doing better than ever before. 

But as you looked at Inej and her knowing smile and her kind eyes, and as you thought of just the city? you weren't so sure of your reasons anymore. You had made yourself believe that you were leaving because you were ready for a new adventure. Because you had outgrown Ketterdam. Maybe you were just doing it because you wanted to run away. Away from the memories that plagued your mind every moment of the day. Away from ever having to face your past. You wanted to be gone from it all. Gone gone gone. 

So when Inej took your hand carefully, gave you an encouraging squeeze, you smiled sadly and whispered, "Maybe not just the city." 

"Have you spoken with him?" 

You shook your head. "I wouldn't even know what to say. I don't know if there is anything to say." 

"There is plenty to say," Inej said. 

Again you shook your head. "He made it crystal clear we were over." 

"So? Just because it is over doesn't mean that you never have to talk about it. You both owe each other an explanation. He broke your heart and you're still hurting. You left without a word and broke his heart." 

"I doubt that." 

Inej sighed. "He is still hurting too. You know him better than anyone else, sometimes even better than he knows himself, and you know how he felt for you. You weren't the only one in that relationship and you leaving hurt him just as much as him breaking your heart hurt you." 

You looked down. It wasn't as if you had wanted to leave, but things had grown so icy you couldn't stay any longer. There were no conversations unless forced to. Any proximity was avoided at all costs. And the stares. 

Oh, the stares. There were so many of them. From the side, across the room, right in front of you. A glance during a job. Fleeting eyes when walking past. You hadn't minded them before because you'd known the meaning behind them, the unspoken words that lingered behind those pupils. But after, the stares had changed. Harder. Colder. Longer. More intense and filled with an emotion you hadn't known how to read. You had not been able to stand it, to endure being a stranger to someone you thought you had known so well. 

So you left. Ran. Fled. Maybe from your life. 

Maybe just from Kaz. 

-=-=-=-

"I don't think we should do this anymore." 

"What?" 

You looked up. He was standing so calmly, so serene. Like those exact words hadn't just passed his lips. His expression was closed off, walls so thick even you couldn't see through them. 

"We’re done. This—" he gestured vaguely “—is over.”  

"Why?" 

You shook your head. It couldn't be that the person you had started to care for more than anyone else in the world would do this. There were plans together. For tomorrow night. For next week. For a year from now. 

You hadn't dared to believe it but as more time passed, you had allowed yourself to wonder about a future. Together. A possibility that this feeling could stretch beyond the dirty waters and rotten streets of the criminal city. That there was beauty in the years ahead of you. A chance. 

And you had believed that he thought the same thing. That you had seen it in his eyes when he looked at you and heard it in his voice when he talked to you. It was the slightest of lingering and a softness so strange that you hadn't known what to do with it the first time you'd heard it. 

But it had been there. Proof as clear as day. The brush of a hand when he walked past. The warmth of a chest behind you, never quite touching but you didn't need him to. And then, after a while, there had been the feeling of protection. The sense of knowing that there was someone watching over you. You hadn't liked it, did not need protection, but as it eased on you, you had realised how comfortable it was to take a breath, just for a moment. To let down your guard and see the world from a different point of view. And when you'd turned to him, you had found the same feeling written over his features. Your castle had turned into his and his into yours. 

But now he was pulling the bridge, locking you out. 

"Why?" 

You hated the rise in your voice. The weakness of disappointment that seeped through. 

"You know why." 

"I don't." 

But he shook his head, turned down his face. You couldn't reach him anymore. 

"This never should have happened in the first place. This was a mistake." 

You looked at him for a long time, then said, "You really think so. You really believe that." 

He was unfazed. "I do." 

"And you think it's my fault." 

"I never said that." 

"You don't need to. I know." A sudden anger filled you. Anger because you couldn't bear dealing with the pain right now. "You think it's my fault that for once in your life you showed a grain of humanity and you actually liked it. Just this once you allowed yourself to think that maybe there is more to life than money and criminality, and that scared you so now you're trying to blame me. But you brought this on yourself. I didn't 'weaken your defences' or make you 'soft'. That was all you, Kaz." 

He stared at you, long and hard. Anger burned in the corners of his eyes. He flexed his fingers. 

"Get out." 

His voice was softer than you'd ever heard before but full of barely constrained anger. You didn't like it. You wanted him to shout back at you. To get angry. You did not want to have this fight on your own. 

But instead he swallowed. Took a breath that was only a bit too deep to be normal. Repeated. "Get out." 

"So that is it?" you said, biting the inside of your mouth to hold back the uninvited tears. "This is how you end it?" 

His jaw twitched. "What do you want? Tears? Pleas? Sympathy?" He laughed, the sound of rocks being crushed. "You know me better than that." 

"I thought I did." You looked at him. Tense jaw, tight lips. His perfectly sculpted nose and those old eyes. His dark hair that you had noticed he'd let grow longer after you told him it suited him. One strand fell on his forehead and you wished you were back in the place where he would have allowed you to brush it back. But you figured that place didn't exist any longer. "Now I'm not so sure." 

"Get. Out." His eyes were like fire. "Get out of this house. Out of this damn city for all I care, but don't ever show your face here again." 

And you laughed. Laughed right in his face because you didn't want to cry in front of him. Laughed because you were falling apart on the inside and nothing could stop it. You laughed as you stepped back, taking one last look. Laughed as you left the room, left the house, left the street, walked, ran, sprinted until you could see the waves of the dark grey sea. Laughed as you looked over your shoulder and promised yourself you would never go back.

-=-=-=-

"I don't know," you said, shaking your head. "I wouldn't know what to say." 

Inej gave you a small smile and you thought she was being kind to you, but then you noticed another layer. The one you knew so well but hated that you did. 

"Oh, Inej, what have you done?" 

"What had to be done." She looked at you with an expression that was close to pity. "You deserve to start anew somewhere else and I do not ever want to take that opportunity from you, but you cannot pretend like it meant nothing. Because in a world like this you found something that most people don't even dare to dream of and you should not take that for granted." 

You swallowed and looked away. You didn't want your best friend scolding you. Even if she was right. 

"Don't you think that across the waters life would be better if you had closure on this? And don't you think it would be fair to him if you gave him an explanation?" 

"Life is not fair," you muttered. 

"No, life isn't," Inej admitted. "But you are. And so is he. In his own ridiculous way." 

You sighed. You knew Inej was right. Of course she was. But that didn't mean you liked it. You had done perfectly fine alone the past months. You had fought off gangs, tricked landlords into giving you a space to live, deceived banks to give you money that they would never see again—all that was fine. But the mere thought of having to face Kaz Brekker made you nauseous and nervous. It was ripping seams you had closed quickly and messily, opening doors you'd thrown shut. 

It wasn't as if you had a choice. Inej slipped from the bench, disappearing into the darkness, but not before she gave you a quick, tight hug and whispered in your ear, "I didn't even need to convince him." 

Then she was gone and you didn't have time to think of when you'd next see her again because there was the sound that any gang member in the Barrel—friend or foe—recognised. The ticking of the iron end on the cobblestones. Rhythmic. Stable. Unwavering. 

Until he got closer.

It was not that you had never seen Kaz again—you had. Ketterdam was a big city, yes, but it always seemed like the people one avoided were right around the corner. You had seen Kaz plenty of times, but always from afar and never intentionally. You didn't speak to him, didn't even want him to see you. Each time you'd caught sight of that black hair and that damned cane, you turned around. He had wanted you gone, so that was what you'd been. 

But now there was no turning away, no running back, no hiding. 

At first glance, he looked no different from any other day in his grey suit and black gloves. He was leaning on his cane, hand resting atop it. His face was inscrutable. His hair was short again. 

Yet, you hadn't missed the falter in his steps. And now you didn't miss the way his fingers flexed, the hitch in his breath as he glanced up, the uncertainty in his eyes. 

Inej had said that he'd come willingly and you wondered what he wanted from you. Kaz Brekker did no charity. 

He stared at you for a long time and you didn't look away. You remembered the time when those eyes had been your gateway to wonderland. Now the gates were shut and you were left wondering on your own. 

"You're leaving." 

His voice was so painfully the same that a surge of anger took hold of you. Who did he think he was, coming here for an 'explanation' when he had been the one to tell you to get out of the city? What did he want? For you to fall to your knees and beg him to take you back? Or did he just want to make sure you were really going? You didn't know which one hurt the most. 

"Yes, I'm leaving," you said. "Don't things just work out perfectly for you? Just like you wanted." 

Kaz's eyes hardened but you scoffed. You didn't care if he got angry. It didn't matter anymore. Inej'd said that you needed to give him an explanation, but you never promised anything. You could get up and leave. Run away. Again. 

Yet, something held you in place and you hated to think that it might be Kaz. 

"Why are you leaving?" His voice sounded so sincere that you almost laughed. 

Because of him. It had always been because of him. You'd stayed in Ketterdam for so long, even when opportunities of leaving came by, because of him. You'd never had a home and you thought you had found it in this wretched city but in the end it turned out it had never been the city. It had been him. 

And now you would leave because of him. Because you couldn't bear being in the places that held those bittersweet memories. Because everything reminded you of him and you didn't want to think of him. Because he told you to go. 

Because your head told you to leave and your heart was too broken to fight. 

"I've grown tired of the city," you said instead. 

Kaz looked at you as if he knew you were lying. "Grown tired of the city?" he repeated sceptically. 

You shrugged. "Or the city's grown tired of me." 

"It never could." 

You stared at Kaz. He seemed unbothered. You hated it but could not stop thinking why. Why was he here?

There were a thousand things you wanted to tell him. From the thoughts you’d had when you’d seen him for the first time to the way you’d felt when he’d brushed his hand to yours that one time in the silent street and when you had learned that he made sure there were never any carrots in your hutspot because he knew you didn’t like them to the pain you had felt these past months. You wanted to tell him of the nights you had lain awake in the Slat wondering what he would do if you’d knocked on his door. And of the past nights you had stared at the ceiling of your boarding room, wondering if you were making the biggest mistake of your life. You wanted to tell him of all the times you had thought of running back to him. 

But you couldn’t tell him. And that realisation made your heart break all over again. You had tried so hard to convince yourself that you were better off alone, but deep down you knew that one word from Kaz would put you right back to where you’d started. 

“What are you doing here?” You got up. Stood in front of Kaz. Stared into his deep brown eyes. “Why did you come, Kaz?” 

But he didn’t answer. Instead he said, “You’ve given me no answer yet.” 

And you wouldn’t. Because he knew the answer perfectly well and you wouldn’t let him hurt your pride that much. 

“Inej seems to think I owe you an explanation, but you and I know better than that. Did you tell her what you said to me?” 

His jaw tightened. 

“That’s what I thought.” You gave a dry laugh. “Ghezen forbid anyone ever dare think that Kaz Brekker has feelings.” You shook your head. “She also thinks I broke your heart, but I’m not even sure you have one to begin with.” 

Kaz kept staring at you with that steady, cold gaze of his. “Why did you do it then? If you believe me to be heartless.” 

“Because I was stupid enough to hope. And I know what you say about hope, that it’s a weakness and will always let you down, and maybe you’re right but you know what I have found? This city grows on hope. Hope that the next spin will pay off. Hope that the investment makes a fortune. Hope that we live to see another day.” 

You weren’t sure where the words were coming from. Maybe they had been inside you all along and were now spilling from the split seams of your heart. Maybe they were the harsh lessons you had learned while on your own. Maybe they were just annoying stabs, an attempt to fuel his anger, to hurt him like he had you. 

“Everyone hopes. Even those who claim differently. So what do you hope for, Kaz? Money? Revenge? Love? Invincibility?”

Kaz gave no reaction. 

“You know, I was selfish enough to think that it was me for a while, but now I can’t tell the difference between what I thought and what was true anymore. Sometimes I wonder if any of it was ever true.

“I hoped for you, Kaz, and that is the worst decision I have ever made in my life. You were right; we never should have happened.” 

He was still looking at you, saying nothing. His face was closed off and no matter how you searched there were no cracks. No seams to his mask and you weren’t entirely sure if it was a mask at all. This was just him, blank, apathetic, uncaring. It was impossible to think that once you’d believed differently. 

“So you’re leaving,” he finally said. 

You smiled humourlessly. “Yes. Gladly so. Everybody happy in the end.” 

“Hm,” Kaz only hummed. He flexed his fingers, then gave a nod. “Alright. Safe journey.” 

“So it seems.” 

But Kaz didn’t step away and neither did you. You didn’t know what you were waiting for; you’d had your say and you doubted he wanted to have his. Yet you could sense that there was something he did want to say. His unspoken words hung in the air between you, so tense and burning that you could almost read them coming from his lips. 

Then they were gone. He took a step back and shook his head, staring at you with a strange expression. The sudden urge to reach out for him rose inside you, but you swallowed it down. You and him were done and this was the last time you’d see him. One way or another you had to accept that, even if it felt wrong. 

“Goodbye, Kaz.” 

This was the end. You were getting out. 

-=-=-=-

The sun was sinking below the horizon when you boarded the ship. Kaz was watching from afar, not trusting himself to get closer. 

You were right; he had no heart. Where it should have been there was a hollow cave in his chest. A gaping hole that slowly filled with darkness until it felt like he was drowning again. He was ruthless, unfeeling, and cruel. He didn’t care about the world as he should, but he couldn’t care about that either. He was a monster, leaving everyone guessing what pumped the blood through his veins. 

He had no heart because you’d broken it. 

Once it had beat for you, but now all that was left was shatters and dust. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. So he watched you leave while the water rose around him, pulling him under. 

He had never wanted for this to happen. You’d asked him what he hoped for and the answer had always been and would always be you. It was you when you’d stepped into his office for the first time, a bit scared, a whole lot more courageous. It was you when you’d been brought in with a stab wound in your side and he’d nearly combusted as they’d stitched you back up and he couldn’t get close. It was you on dark stake-outs, in-between meals, mornings where the sun dared to show its first beams and sleep laced your every move as you walked with him through the Ketterdam streets. It was you every moment you were near and far. Every single time he wished he could still his demons and reach out to you. Every time he tried and lost the battle. 

And it had been you when you’d stood in front of him and he had said the words he would regret the rest of his life. 

He barely ate. Didn’t sleep. Felt the life slip from his grip as he could only think about you and the biggest mistake of his life. There were so many ‘should have’s, so many things he could have done differently. 

But when it came to you he didn’t want to be selfish. You deserved someone better than him, and he hoped that someone was on the other side of the waters. Somewhere far away from him. 

He had told you to get out and that was what you’d done. Maybe one day you would visit Ketterdam again and come see him and you’d both act like nothing had ever happened. 

And maybe that was Kaz’s weakness. But it was that hope that kept him afloat.

- - - - - - - - - 

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Private Limited Company Registration Process in India

Private Limited Company Registration Process in India

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Are you an entrepreneur in India looking to register a private limited company? If so, knowing the registration process is essential to ensure your company operates legally and complies with Indian laws. In this presentation, we will walk you through registering a private limited company in India.

Table of Contents:

Introduction

What is a Private Limited Company Registration?

Benefits of Registering a Private Limited Company Registration

Requirements for Private Limited Company Registration

Steps for Private Limited Company Registration

Documents Required for Private Limited Company Registration

Conclusion

Introduction:

Private limited companies are one of the most popular types of businesses in India. They are easy to set up, offer limited liability to their owners, and have a separate legal identity. However, before starting your business, you must go through the registration process. This presentation will help you understand the steps in registering a private limited company in India.

What is a Private Limited Company Registration?

A private limited company is a business structure with a separate legal identity from its owners. It is owned by shareholders and managed by directors. The liability of shareholders is limited to the amount of shares they own in the company.

Benefits of Registering a Private Limited Company Registration:

Registering a private limited company has several benefits, including limited liability for shareholders, separate legal identity, more accessible access to funding, and tax benefits.

Requirements for Private Limited Company Registration:

To register a private limited company in India, you must have a minimum of two directors and two shareholders. You must also have a registered office address in India and a Director Identification Number (DIN) and Digital Signature Certificate (DSC) for the directors.

Steps for Private Limited Company Registration:

The steps involved in registering a private limited company in India include:

Obtaining a Digital Signature Certificate (DSC) and Director Identification Number (DIN).

Reserving a company name.

Drafting and filing the Memorandum of Association (MOA) and Articles of Association (AOA).

Obtaining the Certificate of Incorporation.

Documents Required for Private Limited Company Registration:

The documents required for private limited company registration in India include proof of identity and address for directors and shareholders, proof of registered office address, MOA and AOA, and a copy of the PAN card.

Conclusion:

You can quickly register a private limited company in India with the proper guidance and knowledge, even though it might seem daunting. Following the steps and requirements outlined in this presentation, you can confidently initiate the registration process for your private limited company and kickstart your business.

Latest 15 Frequently Asked Questions & Answers 

1. What is a Private Limited Company? 

A Private Limited Company is a type of business structure where the liability of its members is limited to the amount they have invested in the company. It offers separate legal status and perpetual succession.

2. How many members are required to register a Private Limited Company in India? 

At least two members are required to register a Private Limited Company with 200 members.

3. What is the minimum capital requirement for a Private Limited Company? 

There is no minimum capital requirement for a Private Limited Company in India. You can start with any amount of capital.

4. What are the critical documents required for Private Limited Company registration?

Documents like PAN cards, Aadhaar cards, address proofs, and passport-sized photos of the directors and shareholders are required, along with proof of registered office address and identity.

5. How long does registering a Private Limited Company in India take? 

On average, it takes around 15-20 days to complete the registration process, subject to government processing times and document submission.

6. Can a foreign national be a director in a Private Limited Company in India? 

A foreign national can be a director in an Indian Private Limited Company. However, at least one director must be an Indian resident.

7. What is the significance of a Digital Signature Certificate (DSC) in company registration? 

A DSC is essential for signing electronic documents during the registration process. It ensures the security and authenticity of the documents.

8. What are the compliance requirements for a Private Limited Company after registration? 

Compliance includes annual filings, conducting board meetings, statutory audits, and adhering to tax regulations.

9. Can a Private Limited Company convert into another business structure? 

Yes, it is possible to convert a Private Limited Company into a Public Limited Company or other business structures, subject to compliance with legal requirements.

10. What is the role of a Director Identification Number (DIN) in company registration? 

Each director requires a unique number known as a DIN for incorporation, and it serves as their identity proof.

11. What are the advantages of registering a Private Limited Company in India? 

Benefits include limited liability protection, separate legal entities, access to funding, enhanced credibility, and perpetual succession.

12. Can a Private Limited Company issue shares to the public?

 No, a Private Limited Company cannot issue shares to the public. It can only provide claims to its members and stakeholders.

13. Is it mandatory to have a physical office space for a Private Limited Company? 

You must have a registered office address in India for company registration. You will use it for communication and legal purposes.

14. Can a Private Limited Company own property in its name? 

Yes, a Private Limited Company can purchase, own, and sell property in its name. It has a separate legal identity.

15. How is Closing a Private Limited Company in India?

The company can be closed by following the legal procedures, including passing resolutions, settling liabilities, and filing the necessary documents with the authorities. It's a complex process that requires legal guidance.

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