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karalovesallthegirls · 6 months ago

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Kara has always dreaded the day she’d meet her soulmate.

There’s relief in knowing she has one, of course. The person meant for her didn’t die with Krypton. That’s something! Even still, it’s hard to feel excited for the moment they meet, because that’s the moment Kara will hurt them. She’s had their exclamation of pain inked into her skin for as long as she’s been on Earth. In some ways it’s better. Most people have phrases like “good morning” or “hold the door please” as their soulmate’s first words. They have to endure hundreds of almosts, breath held just in case that stranger really is the one. Kara won’t have to do that. Her words are far too distinct.

It's agony, thinking about how their meeting will go. She spends years imagining every possible scenario, each one more painful than the last, yet the day it happens she barely even registers it. The words wash right over her, drowned out by the loud crack as her hand makes sudden contact with a stranger's face. The telltale crunch of contact shocks her. She hadn't registered anyone was there during her dramatic retelling, otherwise she would have kept her gestures small. She wouldn't have flung her hand out with such force.

The woman she's hit is hunched over, clutching at her face. She gasped loud and sharp when it hit, and now she's just wheezily breathing in shock. Kara can see blood starting to drip down her wrist.

“Did you," the woman gasps, and her voice sounds wet. "Did you just break my nose?” Kara wants to die.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I am so sorry!”

People are looking at them and the woman keeps cursing under her breath and Kara really, really doesn’t know what to do. Her hands hover uselessly over the hunched figure, desperate to soothe but scared to touch in a moment like this. “I didn’t mean to – I was telling a story and I got too excited with my hands I guess, I didn’t see you there. Are you- can I-”

She looks to Alex for guidance, but she’s just staring at the interaction with a wide-eyed wonder. Typically her sister knows what to do in a scary situation, but now she’s looking just as clueless. They’re both barely awake at this point – it’s six in the morning and they’ve been at this airport terminal since midnight, miserably watching their red eye flight push into a mid-day departure. They’re both half-delirious, which is fun when you’re goofing off but less so when you’ve just broken a stranger’s nose.

And then it hits her. The words she’s carried on her arm for so many years are tingling, she realizes, and they’ve been tingling from the second her skin met the girl’s.

Did you did you just break my nose?

“Oh wow,” Kara says, dumbfounded. “It’s you.” The woman falls silent. She must be realizing too Kara thinks as she fumbles with her sleeve, pushing it up enough to show her inked arm. The woman's eyes drop to the tattoo that's brought such shame to Kara for so long. She feels her eyes like a touch. “I – I’m so happy to meet you! I’m so sorry it happened like this.” She laughs and it sounds strained. Her hands are shaking. The woman doesn't look up from her arm.

Even hunched over in pain, it's clear the woman is beautiful. Important, even, considering how she's dressed. She's dressed like she's en route to lead a business conference, her tight black skirt and matching blazer scream business professional. Though the effects are tampered a bit by the splattering of blood that’s dripped down her white blouse. Kara wonders how old she is to be dressed like that. She must be older to look like that. At nearly nineteen, Kara has never had anything more than a graduation to dress nicely for, and even then she wore her stained dress pants. This woman - her soulmate - must be much older than her, which feels strange to think. She looks Kara's age, maybe even younger. If not for how clearly tailored to her body her clothes are, she'd almost look like she was playing dress up.

Kara feels self-conscious then, sharply aware of how she must look to her soulmate. As smart as it felt to come to the airport in pajamas for her all-night flight, standing in rubber duck pajama pants while trying to have a conversation with her goddess of a soulmate did little for Kara's confidence.

When Kara’s eyes finally track back up to her face, she finds sharp green ones staring back. They're the prettiest eyes she's ever seen, and they don't seem interested in looking away. That's fine with her - she's more than content to stare right back.

It's only the soft plop of blood hitting tile that draws her attention back to her crime, and she can see the way the woman's hands have become covered in blood. "Oh gosh, here - let me…” Kara fumbles in her backpack for a moment with no clear plan. All she knows is she has to do something to fix this. She fumbles about before pulling out a clean t-shirt. “Here. For the-” She holds it out to the girl and gestures at her own face. Slowly, like she’s scared Kara might grab her or something, the woman takes the offered shirt. She wipes the blood from her face and hands, dabbing beneath her nose. The bleeding seems to have stopped, at least, and the shirt helps contain what's escaped. Watching a stranger wipe blood on her high school band t-shirt shouldn’t thrill Kara as much as it does, and yet.

Kara laughs again, the sound nervous and high-pitched, before taking a step towards her. Her soulmate’s eyes go wide, tracking her movements, and Kara's heart clenches when she steps away. The rapid race of her soulmate's heart beats into Kara's ear - she can literally hear her fear. She holds her hands up in surrender, stepping back to where she’d been before. The last thing she wants is for her to be afraid. “Does it hurt?” she asks, and her soulmate shakes her head no. “That’s good. That’s good. I- uh." She has nothing more to say, and her soulmate's certainly not contributing. Kara’s palms are sweating. She hasn’t sweat since she was thirteen, but one look from this person has her rubbing her hands on her pajama pants like a middle schooler at a dance.

The woman finishes wiping up and lets her arms fall, blessing Kara with her first real look at her face. Bloodied and skittish, she’s beautiful in a way Kara can hardly comprehend, in a way she could never imagine. Kara's pretty sure she's blushing now for some reason, and she has to flex her toes to be sure she’s still touching the ground. “My name’s Kara,” she says, and then gestures over her shoulder. “That’s my sister Alex. We’re flying home for winter break. Midvale - Midvale is home for us. Where- where are you flying to?”

The woman stares and stares, and Kara's starting to panic thinking she'd given her soulmate a head injury that's muted her somehow, when at last the woman speaks just barely above a whisper.

“Home,” she says. It feels like her heart might burst just from hearing that one stilted word. Kara wants to hear a thousand more, wants to hear nothing else for the rest of her life.

“That’s awesome. W-where’s home for you?” The woman's lip trembles as she opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and then throws the t-shirt at Kara’s face.

Kara fumbles catching it, distracted by the shock and gross factor of having a blood-soaked shirt hurled at her face, and it takes her far too many precious seconds to realize her soulmate is gone. Bewildered, Kara looks around before just catching sight of her vanishing around the corner, high heels and racing heart clattering away. She looks at Alex. Alex waves at her, frantic. “Go!” Alex yells, and Kara takes off.

Pretending to be a human has never been harder than it is while chasing after her soulmate. Normal human pace - especially what's acceptable at an airport - is not fast enough for this, not when the woman has already gotten so far ahead. Kara must look ridiculous, bursting into sprints only to trip suddenly into a walk over and over again, her ears locked on to the thudding heartbeat and faint whispers of her soulmate mumbling, “crap crap crap crap,” ahead.

Kara’s thankful they’re in an airport, at least. Her soulmate can’t just run outside, and Kara is fine embracing the romcom trope of following her love onto the plane. Her soulmate stops moving ahead and Kara speeds up, nearly wiping out twice tripping over luggage and small children. Her heart is in her throat as she clears the corner her soulmate is behind and pushes her way into the door she's passed through. All the wind knocks out of her lungs then when she sees her again. The woman looks up at her in shock, as if she didn't think Kara would chase her. As if Kara would just let her go. With a visible gulp, her soulmate flees around a corner and disappears out of sight. Kara manages a single step forward before a body blocks her way, and she looks up to see a massive security guard staring down at her.

“Membership card, please.”

Kara tries to peer around him. He steps in her way, cutting her vision off. Her soulmate led her into some private place you can't just walk into, she realizes, glancing around at the sleek appearance and exclusive atmosphere. “I- uh, left my card in my other bag,” she says, gesturing back over her shoulder. She can hear her soulmate’s breathing and it's all she can focus on. She’s right there. Just out of sight. Kara is so close. “I’m afraid you need your card to enter the fly lounge,” he says sternly. He starts pushing gently at her, trying to nudge her back out of the sliding glass door she’s come in. Kara almost forgets to let him move her. “I- I’m sorry, someone I need to talk to just went in there and I-” She stops in the doorway, hand firm on the wall. She can hear the way the guard huffs against her solid pressure. She’s not acting very human right now and she knows it.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, ma’am," he says, pushing more forcefully against her. Forceful enough that she knows she has to move even as all her instincts war against it. “Can- can I buy a membership? Like a day pass or something?”

The guard looks over at the front desk, making eye contact with a woman who looks like she would rather watch Kara be flayed alive than allowed another step inside.

“A day membership is $189 plus tax,” she whines out in a nasally voice, tone making clear she already knows Kara won’t be affording that. Which is accurate. Kara barely has enough to buy a meal.

Looks like her soulmate is rich, then.

The man nudges her back again and a flash of panic echoes through her chest. For a moment, she envisions herself throwing him out the open door, tossing aside anything or anyone that tries to keep her from her future. But she’s already scared her soulmate enough for one day, so she smiles with forced bashfulness and allows herself to be walked back out of the lounge.

The frosted glass door marked High Flyers Club Lounge shuts her out mockingly. But it’s fine! Eventually her soulmate’s flight time will be here and she’ll have no choice but to come out and face her. Kara just has to be patient. (Kara hates being patient.)

She takes a seat against the wall across from the lounge entrance. Her glasses rest low on her nose as she stares her soulmate, soaking in every inch of her as she paces in the luxurious lounge. Her heart is racing, she seems on the edge of a panic attack, and Kara wants desperately to be in there with her talking her down. But she can’t, so she’s left to watch – at least until the girl steps into the private restroom. She stops watching after that. Instead, she settles down to listen to the comforting beat of her soulmate’s heart, closer now than it’s ever been.

Her mind wanders as she waits, mentally reviewing every moment of their interaction. Considering where she failed, where she succeeded. Making lists about what to say to her next. She never got her name, for one thing, and she still doesn’t know where her home is. There’s so much for her to learn.

Her mental meandering is so consuming that it takes her a bit to realize the heartbeat has moved farther away. At first she thinks her soulmate is just moving around the club, but no- she’s moving away from the airport. A quick glance through walls shows her that her soulmate isn’t in the club anymore. The heartbeat is elevating, she realizes, and Kara runs to the glass wall just in time to see the plane - small, private, with an apparent access point from within the lounge – take off.

Horror and confusion overwhelm her, bringing tears to her eyes. This doesn't make sense. Why would she just leave without saying a word? Why would her soulmate do that? It's almost unbearable, the pain of it. She doesn’t know how long she stands there, face pressed to the glass, listening as the heartbeat grows quieter and quieter before vanishing all together.

Kara learns a lot about grief after that.

She knew a lot already – far more than any one person should ever know – but that grief carried a different weight. The loss of her people wasn't a choice by them. They didn't want to die. The loss of her soulmate is its own beast, sharp and cruel in her heart, because this time the person she mourns chose to abandon her. Her soulmate chose to leave. She saw Kara that morning and decided that one look was enough, that Kara wasn't worth any more of her time. She left her there with nothing but a bloody t-shirt and a thousand questions. Kara never even learned her name.

She goes through the stages – she feels her anger burning out in her eyes, feels the sorrow take hold. She denies it, she bargains with everyone, anyone. She calls the Flyer’s Club, tries calling the FAA. She tracks flight logs and makes cold calls and still finds nothing at all. She writes about it on soulmate websites and Medium articles, casting a wide net so that someday when – if, her mind reminds her. if if if - her soulmate ever looks she’ll be able to find her.

Time dulls the sharpness, though, and the years shift that rejected feeling into a more muted anger. Kara doesn't care about the love lost. She doesn't care if the person is her other half. All she cares about is the anger. Finding her feels more like a hunt than a quest for love – she’s got a lot to say to the other woman when they finally meet again. She just wants one more meeting, that’s all. Just enough time to tell her exactly where she can go. Kara doesn’t need a soulmate, after all. Her life is full of love and joy and adventure, and she doesn’t need another person to complete her. She graduates college with a degree in English, minor in Journalism – her attempts to track down her soulmate really ignite the journalistic bug in her, and with Clark’s constant encouragement it feels inevitable. She moves to a big city despite her small-town fears and she gets a job almost no one survives. Kara is thriving.

It almost shocks her, then, the way her heart trips over itself when she sees her again.

They’re watching the trial, her and Alex, and Alex is halfway through a lecture on how she’d always known Lex Luthor was evil by the way he wore his pants – (“Good guys don’t wear their pants that high, Kara, it’s common sense.”) – when Kara's nerves jolt like a lightning bolt has rushed through her. Her gasp is so sharp Alex screams almost in sympathy.

“What? What is it?” Alex yells at her, looking around for some danger lurking nearby. Kara tumbles to the floor practically crawling to the television screen. Someone new has taken the stand, someone she'd recognize anywhere.

“Alex,” she says, jamming her finger against the somewhat grainy image projected on her television. “It's her.” “What!” “My soulmate!" Kara knows it like she knows herself, even after all this time. She looks different. Six years of struggle sit clear in her hard gaze, her mouth twisted into solemn resignation. She looks almost casual on the stand, sitting comfortably despite the eyes of the world on her. Like it's just a regular conversation. Like she’s not about to help send her brother to prison for life. “Lena Luthor, sister of the defendant” reads the helpful banner beneath her grim face. Even after everything, Kara is struck by her. She's breathtaking. Kara kind of hates her for it. “Hold on, that’s- you barely even saw her when you met! You don’t know for sure.” Alex sounds desperate, which is fair. The younger sister of the man who tried to kill Superman is certainly not an ideal soulmate for someone like Kara, but it doesn't matter. It's her. “I’m sure,” she says, and feels the truth of it deep in her bones.

A giggle hits her then that's so inappropriate for the moment it makes her feel crazy, but she can't help it. As Lena Luthor begins to explain the piles of evidence she’s gathered against her brother, Kara giggles away. She feels almost drunk on it, smug and satisfied. “Found you,” she says, almost like a taunt. She drags her finger over the screen, feeling the static of her ancient television biting back at her as she caresses Lena Luthor's face. The anger that’s long settled inside of her seems to reignite with every charged word Lena speaks against her brother, with every glance she makes at the camera. She can feel Alex’s nervous energy behind her but she doesn’t care. The politics of this, the implications - none of it matters to Kara. What matters is she has a name, and she has a general location. She's so close she can practically taste it. “See you soon, soulmate,” Kara whispers, and for a second it feels almost like Lena is staring right back.

#Hey man here's a soulmate au that burst out of my brain and demanded to exist #this will probably end up on ao3 but I want to write another chapter at least before that #also this follows my standard formula that I love but rarely see in soulmate aus #where one (or ideally both) of them are like HEY ACTUALLY NO THANKS and try like hell to deny the deep and inevitable drag of destiny #mine #supercorp

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israelcastillophoto · 1 year ago

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At the Conservatory Garden in NYC with Kara

Shot on Kodak Tx400

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natalievoncatte · 4 months ago

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The yawn stretched Lena’s jaw to the point that she felt like a cat, baring her fangs. Naturally, it prompted a Kara Danvers Pout, which was utterly devastating. Kara looked at her over the top of her drink cup, straw still pursed in her delicate pink lips as she frowned slightly.

“How long have you been awake?”

“I had a half hour nap this morning,” Lena sighed.

She’d been in the office for three days, but she didn’t admit that.

“Leeeenaaaaaaa,” Kara said, drawing her name out into a gentle rebuke. “You promised me you’d stop doing that to yourself. I’m taking you home.”

Lena’s heart skipped and Kara abruptly jerked upright, briefly glancing at her. Lena hated when that happened, when her body betrayed her. Kara meant escort her home; Lena’s thoroughly tired mind had supplied another scenario, one where Kara carried her onto the bed, relieved her of her clothes and dove between her legs, but that was never going to happen. Lena let out a long sigh of resignation, trying to be satisfied with best-friendship.

She hoped Kara hadn’t suddenly developed telepathy.

If you took me home I’d never leave. I could make love to you for a hundred years.

Kara smiled back at Lena’s wistful look. “I mean it.”

“Okay. I can come back to it tomorrow. Besides, I’m too full of grease and cheese to stay awake. Should we…”

Lena never finished her sentence. There was a crackle in the air, a sudden wet smell of ozone, and the thunderous boom that made her ears ring.

Kara flashed in front of her at super-speed, yanking off her glasses and tossing them on the couch in a smooth motion.

Hovering in the middle of her office was some ramshackle contraption resembling a mechanical eye about the size of a basketball that scanned Kara with a faint purple energy ray.

“Kara Danvers. Supergirl. I am Zeglos, Regent of the Alotian Republic. I am calling to you from the home of my people, located in what is to you a subatomic realm we call Universe Q. We need your help, you are our only hope. The invaders are slaughtering us and razing our home. There is no time.”

Kara glanced back at Lena. “I’ll help if I can. Let me-“

“There is no time. You must come with me now.”

“Wait, hold on a second-“

The machine flashed, thrumming as it powered up, and blasted here with a wave of light that surrounded them both, and then in a crackling boom they both vanished, leaving behind the ozone smell and a faint impression of Kara’s boot heels in the carpet.

Lena stared into the empty space for a moment, then shot to her feet, snatching the phone off her desk, where it had lain ignored since Kara walked into the room.

She called Alex, shocked at the blubbering panic in her own voice. Within a few minutes, everyone was there, piling into the room. Lena warded them off from the spot where Kara had stood. Alex was cold and calm, her voice clinical, and she immediately began issuing orders. J’onn took Lena aside and gently asked her probing questions in the manner of an old detective, coaxing every meager detail of the event out of her.

Within half an hour, Brainy and Lena had set up all sorts of equipment around the room, scanning, hoping to find some energy signature or other clue that could enable them to bring Kara back from wherever she’d been taken.

It proved fruitless. They tried everything.

Minutes stretched into hours. Lena was exhausted, heavy with fatigue.

“Go home, get some sleep,” said Alex. “We can’t help her if we pass out on the floor.”

“I’ll sleep here.”

She did, throwing a thin blanket over herself on the couch. It was Alex, not Lena, who cleaned up the Big Belly Burger mess. Lena slept fitfully, showered in the en-suite attached to her office, and changed into an old hoodie that she kept there and wore when no one was looking.

It wasn’t hers. Threadbare, a maroon color faded to a soft red, the back still emblazoned with a cracked and fading Midvale Mathletes Club logo, it was Kara’s. Lena had snatched it from Kara’s sofa and put it on one night when she was feeling bold and then, as now, felt surrounded by it, the oversized garment swaddling her.

And it smelled like Kara, just enough. Kara had stared at her intently for a moment when she took it that night but said nothing, a wistful sad look on her face before the moment was broken by Wynn’s bad joke at the table. Wynn was gone now, but the hoodie remained, just as it had remained when they were fighting, when she thought she’d never see Kara again. She’d worn it then and cried herself to sleep in it.

Just like now.

A day became two. Then three. Five. Lena tried everything, pursued every theory. They called in every favor, human and alien. Brainy tried to send messages to the future. Nia dreamed fruitless dreams. Alex paced like a caged animal and Kelly kept the peace, keeping them all fed, making sure everyone slept, talking things out whenever tempers flared.

Nothing worked.

Lena even tried praying, something she hadn’t done since the last time she was in a small church in Ireland. It didn’t work this time, either.

Lena was seated next to Brainy on the couch, going over a design for a new device to try to follow what was by now a thoroughly cold trail. Alex stood at the balcony door, staring out into a slashing summer rain squall that buffeted the glass with distant thunder and gusts of wind.

The ozone smell tickled Lena’s nose and she looked up, just as Kara took a stumbling step out of nowhere, appearing in her office with an utterly bewildered look on her face.

“Kara?”

Alex snapped round, adding her voice to the chorus. “Kara?”

Kara stared at her sister, open-mouthed, tears welling in her eyes.

“Alex?” she said. “Alex, you’re alive? How is that possible?”

“Alive? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Kara!” Lena cried, her voice ragged in her throat.

At the sound of her voice, Kara snapped around, eyes wide. Her knees buckled and she sagged, almost falling. She stumbled forward as Lena stood and they fell into each other, Lena hurling herself, reckless, into an embrace that revealed too much. She almost climbed Kara, all but throwing her legs around her as well as her arms as she buried her face in the Kryptonian’s neck.

“Oh God. Oh Rao. I thought you would all be gone. I begged them to let me leave but they wouldn’t let me go, I had to…”

“Kara?” Alex asked, cautiously. “Why would we be gone?”

Kara barely seemed to hear her as she gently twined her fingers in Lena’s hair and wrapped her powerful arm around Lena’s waist, encircling and shielding her.

“How long has it been?”

“About a week,” Lena choked out. “I was so scared.”

“A week?” Kara blurted. “It’s only been a week here?”

Alex put a reassuring hand on Kara’s back, standing next to them. “Yeah, you were taken on Tuesday, kiddo. It’s Wednesday, the 17th.”

Kara stared past Lena, resting her chin on the shorter woman’s head, and began to sob with relief.

“Kara?” said Alex.

“Time dilation,” said Brainy.

“They told me time would pass slower up here but I didn’t believe them. I’ve been gone for… for…”

“It’s okay, Kara,” Lena whispered. “You’re okay, you’re back.”

“Eighty seven years, four months, and eighteen days,” Kara sobbed. “It’s been so long, I thought you were all dead.”

Alex stiffened. “Kara. Oh my God.”

Kara buried her face in Lena’s hair and breathed her in, shuddering. “I’d given up. All that kept me going was hoping I could see you again. This is a gift. A gift. I love you all so much.”

Kara still held her, rocking slightly, her big shoulders shaking with powerful sobs.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “Kara, it’s okay.”

“I love you,” Kara blurted. “I love you. It’s okay if you don’t love me back, I just need to tell you, I have to tell you. All I could think about down there is how stupid I was and how stupid I’ve been and how none of the reasons I never told you made any sense,” she sucked in a breath as if she’d briefly forgotten how, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

There could be no mistaking her intent. She seethed with it, it radiated from her very bones. Lena hugged her hard, crushing her with all her might as if to crawl inside her.

“God, Kara, I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that. I love you too. Let’s… mmmph!”

Kara was kissing her. Lena’s brain briefly froze, then she realized the full magnitude of what was happening. Kara was kissing her. Kara was kissing her. Then Lena was kissing her back. There was so much in it, need and lust and adoration and an unbelievable desperation, but above all love. Lena felt her heart open as if hadn’t in a long time, like a flower unfolding to receive the nurturing warmth of morning sun.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” Kara whispered when they finally broke and Lena again could breathe.

“Let me take you home,” said Lena.

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uzunparti · 6 months ago

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LASHİNG - PLATİN

Lashing, özellikle taşımacılık ve lojistik sektöründe önemli bir yer tutan bir süreçtir. Yüklerin güvenli bir şekilde taşınabilmesi için lashing hizmetinin önemi büyüktür. Bu hizmetler, yüklerin sabitlenmesi ve taşınma sırasında oluşabilecek kaymaları önlemek için çeşitli teknikler ve ekipmanlar kullanarak sağlanır. Yük sabitleme, hem kara hem de deniz taşımacılığında kritik bir rol oynar, zira herhangi bir kayma veya hasar, ciddi maddi kayıplara neden olabilir.

Lashing

Lashing, taşınan yüklerin güvenli bir şekilde sabitlenmesi ve taşınması için gerekli olan önemli bir işlem olarak bilinir. Bu işlem, yüklerin hareket etmesini engelleyerek kazaların ve hasarın önlenmesine yardımcı olur. Lashing işlemi, çeşitli malzemelerin ve ekipmanların kullanımıyla gerçekleştirilir ve uygun teknikler kullanıldığında yüklerin maksimum güvende taşınmasını sağlar.

Lashing işlemleri, deniz, hava ve kara taşımacılığında yaygın olarak kullanılmaktadır. Yüklerin türüne, boyutuna ve taşıma koşullarına göre farklı lashing hizmetleri uygulanabilir. Bu hizmetler, yüklerin hem yükleme hem de boşaltma aşamalarında en iyi şekilde korunmasını sağlamak için kritik öneme sahiptir.

Lashing için kullanılan ekipmanlar arasında kayışlar, halatlar, kancalar ve bağlantı elemanları yer alır. Bu malzemeler, yüklerin sabitlenmesini ve güvenli bir şekilde taşınmasını garanti eder. Doğru lashing teknikleri ile iş gücü verimliliği artırılır ve malzemelerin hasar görme riski minimize edilir.

Lashing uygulamaları, yüklerin sadece güvenli taşınmasını sağlamakla kalmaz, aynı zamanda taşımacılık süreçlerinin daha hızlı ve daha etkili bir şekilde gerçekleştirilmesine de olanak tanır. Bu bağlamda, yük sabitleme işlemlerinin profesyonel bir ekip tarafından yapılması büyük önem taşır.

Lashing hizmeti

Lashing hizmeti, yüklerin güvenli bir şekilde taşınmasını sağlamak amacıyla uygulanan önemli bir süreçtir. Bu hizmet, özellikle deniz taşımacılığı ve ağır yük taşımacılığı alanlarında öne çıkmaktadır. Yüklerin sapasağlam bir şekilde varış noktasına ulaşabilmesi için lashing teknikleri kullanılır. Yüklerin kaymasını ve devrilmesini önlemek için çeşitli malzemeler ve ekipmanlar kullanılarak lashing işlemleri gerçekleştirilir.

Lashing hizmetinin en önemli avantajlarından biri, yüklerin güvenliğini artırmasıdır. Yükün doğru bir şekilde sabitlenmesi, taşıma sırasında oluşabilecek hasarları minimuma indirmektedir. Ayrıca, bu hizmet, taşımacılık sürecinin daha verimli bir şekilde gerçekleştirilmesine yardımcı olur.

Bunun yanı sıra, lashing hizmetleri sayesinde, taşımacılık alanında uluslararası standartlara uyum sağlanır. Herhangi bir kaza veya olumsuz durumun önüne geçmek için gerekli önlemler alınır ve bu süreçte uzman ekiplerin devreye girmesi sağlanır. Doğru ekipman ve tekniklerin kullanılması, yüklerin güvenliği açısından son derece kritiktir.

Sonuç olarak, lashing hizmeti, yük taşımacılığı sektöründe vazgeçilmez bir yere sahiptir. Yüklerin güvenli bir şekilde taşınmasını sağlarken, ilgili tüm süreçlerin profesyonel bir şekilde yürütülmesine de katkıda bulunur. Bu nedenle, lashing uygulamalarının önemini göz ardı etmemek gerekir.

Lashing hizmetleri

Lashing hizmetleri, yüklerin güvenli bir şekilde taşınmasını sağlamak için son derece önemlidir. Nakliye sırasında yüklerin kaymasını veya devrilmesini önlemek amacıyla kullanılan bu hizmet, özellikle ağır ve hacimli yüklerde büyük bir gereklilik haline gelir.

Lashing hizmeti, yüklerin bağlanması ve sabitlenmesi konusunda uzmanlaşmış profesyoneller tarafından sunulur. Bu hizmetler, genellikle farklı tipteki taşıma araçlarında kullanılmak üzere özelleştirilmiştir. Örneğin, gemi, kamyon veya trenle taşınacak yükler için farklı teknikler ve malzemeler kullanılır.

Yüklerin güvenli bir şekilde taşınması için kullanılan lashing ekipmanları arasında kayışlar, zincirler ve çeşitli bağlantı elemanları bulunmaktadır. Bu ekipmanlar, yükün sabit kalmasını sağlarken, taşıma sırasında oluşabilecek titreşim ve darbelere karşı da koruma sağlar.

Firmalar, lashing hizmetleri sunarak çalışanlarının ve yüklerinin güvenliğini artırırken, müşteri memnuniyetini de ön planda tutarlar. Bu nedenle, yük taşıyan firmaların lashing hizmetlerine yatırım yapması, hem ekonomik hem de güvenlik açısından avantaj sağlar.

Sonuç olarak, lashing hizmetleri yük taşıma süreçlerinin vazgeçilmez bir parçasıdır. Doğru bir şekilde uygulandığında, taşıma işlemlerinin güvenli ve verimli bir şekilde gerçekleşmesine yardımcı olur.

Yük sabitleme

Doğru bir yük sabitleme işlemi, taşıma sırasında meydana gelebilecek kazaların önlenmesine yardımcı olur ve yükün hasar görmesini engeller. Bu nedenle, güvenli bir taşımacılık için yük sabitleme yöntemleri iyi bir şekilde bilinmelidir.

Yük sabitleme işlemi, çeşitli ekipmanlarla gerçekleştirilir. İpi, kayış, zincir, halat ve özel sabitleme sistemleri bu ekipmanların başında gelir. Her bir ekipmanın kullanımı, yükün türüne ve taşıma koşullarına bağlı olarak değişiklik gösterir. Bu nedenle, doğru ekipmanın seçilmesi oldukça önemlidir.

Ayrıca, yük sabitleme işlemi, yükün dengeli bir şekilde yerleştirilmesiyle başlar. Yükün merkezi ve ağırlık merkezinin doğru bir şekilde tespit edilmesi, yük sabitlemenin en önemli adımlarından biridir. Yük, mümkün olduğunca dengeli bir şekilde yerleştirilmeli ve sabitleme ekipmanları ile düzgün bir şekilde bağlanmalıdır.

Taşımacılık sırasında yükün hareket etmemesi için yük sabitleme yöntemleri kullanılırken, bu yöntemlerin uygunluğu da dikkate alınmalıdır. Yanlış veya yetersiz bir sabitleme, taşımacılık sürecinde büyük sorunlara yol açabilir. Bu nedenle, uzman kişiler tarafından yapılacak yük sabitleme hizmetleri her zaman tercih edilmelidir.

Sonuç olarak, yük sabitleme güvenli taşımacılık için hayati bir unsurdur. Doğru ekipman kullanımı ve uygun yöntemlerin tercih edilmesi, taşıma sırasında karşılaşılabilecek riskleri en aza indirecektir. Bu nedenle, hem yükleyicilerin hem de taşıyıcıların bu konuya özen göstermesi büyük önem taşır.

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emekler · 6 months ago

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BOBLETEA - PLATİN

Bubble Tea, son yıllarda hem Türkiye’de hem de dünya genelinde gençlerin favorisi haline gelen, lezzetli ve eğlenceli bir içecek türüdür. Bu rengarenk ve farklı tatlarla dolu içecek, özellikle kaynağını Tayvan'dan alarak dünya çapında yayıldı. Bubble Tea'nin popülaritesi, sunduğu çeşitli lezzet ve dokular sayesinde hızla arttı. Farklı malzemelerin bir araya gelmesiyle oluşturulan bu içecek, hem damakları şenlendiriyor hem de görsel bir şölen sunuyor.

Bubble Tea

Bubble Tea, özellikle son yıllarda popülerlik kazanmış bir içecektir. Bu içecek, Çin kökenli olup, genellikle sütlü çay ve tapioka topları ile hazırlanır. Bubble tea, birçok farklı çeşidi ile dikkat çeker ve hem görünümü hem de tadı ile hayranlık uyandırır.

Bu içeceğin en belirgin özelliği, içindeki küçük tapioka toplarının verdiği farklı bir deneyimdir. İçerik olarak çayın çeşitli türleri kullanılır; yeşil çay, kara çay veya hatta meyve aromalı çaylar olabilir. Ayrıca, içeceğin tatlandırılması için farklı şeker şurupları ve aromalı sütler de eklenir.

Bubble Tea çeşitleri arasında, örneğin şekerli sütlü çay, meyve çayları ve yoğurtlu bazlı içecekler bulunur. İsteğe bağlı olarak içeceğin üzerinde j incidentir, marmelat veya meyve parçaları gibi malzemeler de eklenebilir. Bu çeşitlilik, her damak zevkine hitap eder.

Son yıllarda, birçok kafe ve restoran Bubble Tea menülerine ekleyerek, bu içeceği daha geniş kitlelere ulaştırmaya başladı. Hem gençler hem de yetişkinler arasında popüler olan bu içecek, özellikle farklı sunumları ve tatları ile sosyal medya platformlarında sıkça paylaşılmaktadır.

Ayrıca, Bubble Tea hazırlarken kullanılan malzemelerin kalitesi de önemlidir. Kaliteli çay yaprakları ve taze malzemeler ile hazırlanan içecekler, daha lezzetli ve sağlıklı bir seçenek sunar. Sonuç olarak, Bubble Tea hem görsel hem de tat açısından kullanıcıları memnun eden bir deneyim sunar.

Boble Tea

son zamanların en popüler içeceklerinden biri haline geldi. Özellikle gençler arasında büyük bir ilgi gören bu içecek, hem farklı lezzetleri hem de görsel şıklığı ile dikkat çekiyor. sade bir çaydan çok daha fazlasıdır; içinde bulunan büyük tapioka topları ve çeşitli meyve aromaları ile zengin bir deneyim sunar.

Bu içecek, Bubble Tea olarak da bilinse de, her iki isim de aslında aynı lezzeti ifade eder. Boble tea içeceklerin hazırlanışı oldukça çeşitlidir; arzuya göre farklı çay bazları, tatlandırıcılar ve aromalar kullanılabilir. Ayrıca, içindeki tapioka topları ile birlikte farklı meyve parçacıkları eklenerek daha da zenginleştirilebilir. Bu da onu herkesin damak zevkine hitap etmesini sağlar.

Boble Tea seçenekleri arasında klasik siyah çay, yeşil çay, sütlü çay ve meyveli çaylar yer alır. Özellikle yaz aylarında ferahlatıcı bir içecek olarak tercih edilen meyveli Boble Tea çeşitleri, farklı meyve sosları ve parçaları ile harmanlanarak sunulur. Bunun yanı sıra, içeceklerin üstünde yer alan kaymak gibi kremalı dokular, içeceğin aslında bir tatlı gibi algılanmasına neden olur.

Bu içeceği deneyimlemek isteyenler için hemen hemen her şehirde çeşitli Boble Tea dükkânları ve kafe zincirleri bulunmaktadır. Müşteriler, kendi damak zevklerine uygun seçenekleri kolaylıkla bulabilir. Özetle, Boble Tea hem görsel tasarımı hem de lezzeti ile sizi kendine çekmeyi başaracak bir içecektir!

Bubble Tea Çeşitleri

Bubble tea, son yıllarda tüm dünyada büyük bir popülarite kazanmış bir içecektir. Çeşitli tatları ve görünümüyle dikkat çeken bu içecek, birçok insanın favorisi haline gelmiştir. İşte, Bubble tea çeşitlerinden bazıları:

Çay Bazlı Bubble Tea: Genellikle siyah çay veya yeşil çay bazlı olan bu içecek, çeşitli süt ve tatlandırıcılarla birleştirilir. Bu çeşit, hem klasik tatları hem de farklı aromaları ile öne çıkar.

Meyve Aromalı Bubble Tea: Tropical meyveler, çilek, mango, orman meyveleri gibi taze meyve aromaları kullanılarak hazırlanan bu versiyon, daha ferahlatıcı bir tat sunar. Özellikle yaz aylarında tercih edilir.

Sütlü Bubble Tea: Süt ve krema ile hazırlanan bu versiyon, daha kremsi bir dokuya sahiptir. Genellikle vanilya, çikolata veya karamelli çeşitleri ile yapılır.

Matcha Bubble Tea: Japon yeşil çayı olan matcha ile hazırlanan bu özel çeşit, sağlıklı bir alternatif arayanlar için idealdir. Hem lezzetli hem de besleyici bir seçenektir.

Çikolatalı Bubble Tea: Çikolata severler için mükemmel bir tercih! Kakao tozu ve süt kullanılarak hazırlanan bu çeşitte, boba topları ile birlikte yoğun bir çikolata lezzeti sunar.

Bubble tea çeşitleri, genellikle renkli ve dikkat çekici bir şekilde servise sunulduğu için görselliği ile de ilgi çekmektedir. Seçtiğiniz malzemelere bağlı olarak, her damak zevkine hitap edecek farklı Bubble tea çeşitlerini bulmak mümkün!

Babıl Ti

son yıllarda özellikle gençler arasında oldukça popüler hale gelen bir içecek türüdür. Geleneksel çay ve süt esaslı içeceklerin modern bir yorumudur. Özellikle Asya kökenli olan Bubble Tea veya Boble Tea ile birlikte anılmaktadır. Ancak, Babıl Ti'nin kendine özgü bir tarzı ve çeşidi vardır. İçerisinde bulunan şeffaf ve yumuşak tapioka topları, içeceğe farklı bir doku katmaktadır.

Ayrıca, Babıl Ti'nin hazırlanışı da oldukça eğlencelidir. İsterseniz krema, meyve püresi veya şurup ekleyerek kendi damak tadınıza göre özelleştirebilirsiniz. Bu çeşitlilik, Babıl Ti’yi içenleri her seferinde yeni bir tat deneyimi yaşamaya davet eder.

Bazı mekanlarda, Babıl Ti'nin değişik çeşitleri bulmanız mümkündür. Örneğin, meyve aromalı Babıl Ti, klasik sütlü veya çay bazlı seçeneklerle birlikte sunulmaktadır. Bu çeşitlilik, içeceğin yalnızca bir içecek olmanın ötesine geçmesine ve sosyal bir deneyim haline gelmesine olanak tanır.

Sonuç olarak, Babıl ti, hem lezzeti hem de sunumu ile dikkat çeken bir alternatif içecek olarak karşımıza çıkmaktadır. Bu popülarite sayesinde birçok farklı mekan, menülerine Babıl Ti ekleme yarışına girmiştir. Eğer henüz denemediyseniz, mutlaka bir fırsat yaratıp bu eşsiz içeceği tadın!

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nesrin-c · 4 months ago

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Akşama yemeğim hazır. Pilav ve kurufasulye. Baran da, Umut da çok sever.

Haklısınız.

Kim onlar değil mi?

Baran eşim, Umut oğlum.

Umut sekiz yaşında. Canımın içi, kara gözlü, kıvırcık saçlı, susmak bilmeyen, yerinde duramayan bir çocuk. Hayatımın anlamı...

Geç evlendim ben.

Bizim buralarda alışık bir durum olmasa da, evlenmeden, çoluğa çocuğa karışmadan önce okulumu bitirmek istedim. Hep derim, kız çocukları okumalı, iyi yerlere gelmeli, erkeğin eline bakıp, şiddeti, eziyeti, yokluğu, kader deyip sineye çekmemeli.

Ailem itiraz etse de, inadımı kıramadılar. Laf aramızda, zaten oldum olası, burnumun dikine bir kızdım. Beni Kur'an kursuna yollarlardı, ben sokak aralarında kuşlarla beraber şarkılar söyler, boyumdan büyük hayaller kurardım. Akranlarım, eğlencelerde, doğum günlerinde, düğünlerde, konuşmaya bile çekinirken, ben en güzel elbiselerimi giyer, ter içinde kalana kadar güler, eğlenir, dans ederdim. Arada bir annem beni çekiştirip "Ah be kızım, bir parça hanım hanımcık ol!" dese de, olamazdım. Hanım hanımcık olanların düşleri yoktu, bilirdim.

Ellerime bakıyorum.

Bir zamanlar kınalar yaktığım ufacık ellerim yok artık.

Zaman bir nefeste geçiyor ve sanırım insanın önce elleri yaşlanıyor.

Sanki, bir zamanlar, şu sokaklarda koşuşturan, yaramazlık yapan, "Anne n'olur beş dakika daha oynanayım." diye ısrar eden çocuk ben değilmişim gibi.

Nerede şimdi, kırık aynasını eline alıp, saçlarını tarayan ve bir sürü pembe tokalar takan küçük kız?

Garip...

Dışarıda inceden bir Eylül yağmur var. Kasvetli havaya rağmen çocukların kahkahaları duyuluyor.

Aralarından Umut'un sesini ayırabiliyorum. En çok da onun sesi geliyor. Eşek herif!

Yine birazdan üstü başı toz toprak içinde gelecek eve, biliyorum. Nefes nefese ayakkabılarını bir kenara atıp, gözlerimin içine bakacak ve "Anne ben acıktım." diyecek. Sonra ben yine dayanamayıp, onu kollarımın arasına alıp, o kirli yanaklarını, gözlerini, saçlarını öpeceğim, boynunu koklayacağım.

Ah oğlum benim!

Ah Umut'um!

Sen niye hep dağ çiçekleri gibi kokuyorsun, her defasında başımı döndürüyorsun.

Anne olduğumdan beri daha kaygılı biri oldum çıktım. Sizde de öyle mi? Hani, Umut eve biraz geç kalsa ya da ne bileyim, camdan bakıp, yakınlarda göremesem, kalbim yaralı bir kuş gibi kanat çırpmaya başlar. "Ya başına bir şey geldiyse..."

Eşim Baran bu halime üzülür, "Yapma canım, kötüyü çağırma." der ama anneyim işte, ne yapayım.

Baran güzel bir adam. Okulun son yıllarında tanıdım onu. Önce arkadaş olduk. Baktık ki, çok iyi anlaşıyoruz, "hadi öyleyse evlenelim." dedik. Baran bana, kucak dolusu papatya ve Ahmet Arif şiiriyle evlenme teklif etti. Papatya, Ahmet Arif, Şiir, Baran, aşk...Kabul edilmez mi hiç!

Tıpkı hayalimdeki gibi bir evde oturuyorum.

Küçücük, mütevazi, duvarları mavi boyalı, bir köşesi kitaplarla dolu ve güllü dallı perdeleri olan bir ev. İnanın, sevgisiz insan sarayda da otursa, mutsuz olur. Çocukluk arkadaşımlarımdan biliyorum. Yarası çok olana, para merhem olmuyor.

Çok gevezelik ettim değil mi?

Ama ne yapayım, oldum olası konuşmayı seviyorum. Kimseyi bulamazsam, kendimle konuşuyorum. Gülmeyin ya! İnsanın kendi kendine konuşması kadar güzel bir şey yok dünyada. Deneyin, bana hak vereceksiniz.

Ha, bir de çok güzel türkü söylerim ben. Arkadaşlar falan bir araya geldiğimizde, ısrar ederler, "Hadi, bir tane söylemeden olmaz." derler.

Dost kırılır mı hiç!

Şu karşı yaylada göç katar katar

Bir güzelin derdi serimde tüter

Bu ayrılık bana (bize) ölümden beter

Geçti dost kervanı eyleme beni

Şu benim sevdiğim başta oturur

Bir güzelin derdi beni bitirir

Bu ayrılık bize zulüm getirir

Geçti dost kervanı eyleme beni

Pir Sultan Abdalım kalkın aşalım

Aşıp yüce dağı engin düşelim

Çok nimetin’ yedim helallaşalım

Geçti dost kervanı eyleme beni...

Bu türküyü her söylediğimde, gözümden iki damla yaş gelir. Neden bilmem ama sadece iki damla yaş! Sanki bu türküde benden bir şeyler var. Sanki, beni incitmişler, canımı yakmışlar, kalbimi kırmışlar da, ben kimselere söyleyeyemişim gibi...

Duvardaki takvime gözüm takıldı şimdi.

8 Eylül 2051

Off! Ben ne vakit otuz beş yaşında koca bir kadın oldum!

Olsun, her yaşın kendine göre bir güzelliği var. İnşallah çocuklarımız da, otuzları, kırkları, elli, altmış, seksen hatta yüz yaşları görür.

Hah, kapı çaldı, nihayet benim eşek geldi.

Hadi bana müsade. Gideyim de yine bıktırana kadar onu öpüp koklayayım.......diye, bütün bunları yazmak isterdim ama yazamam. Çünkü ben sekiz yaşındayken öldürüldüm.

Ben Narin Güran.

Cesedi on dokuz gün sonra derede bulunan o elleri kınalı kız.

Büyüyemedim ben. Baran ile evlenemedim ve Umut'um hiç olmadı.

t a m e r d u r s u n

#tamerdursun #naringüran #hepimizincesedinideredebuldular

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duachai · 29 days ago

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원죄 ORIGINAL SIN PT 1 - YECHAN | 82MAJOR

When you call my name, it's like a little prayer, I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there

♱ PAIRING : YOON YECHAN X MALE READER

♱ SYNOPSIS : M/n and his sister Daena reluctantly attend a church event, where they meet the enigmatic Yoon brothers, including the quietly intense Yechan. As subtle tensions build between M/n and Yechan, M/n is left feeling both intrigued and unnerved, unable to shake the sensation of being deliberately drawn in.

♱ CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains explicit sexual content and mature themes.

♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE : This was lightly inspired by this Korean film titled the same

LINKS : Wattpad | Kofi | Part 2

“I promise it’ll be good for us!”

That’s the statement she had been saying for the whole week. But this time, it wasn’t about the cramped, buggy one-floor apartment they’d just moved into. This time it was the church right next to the elementary school she had attended when she was younger here in Ontario.

“Mom,” Daena groaned, a little disoriented as she rubbed the spot of her nose where her septum piercing was. Of course, she had to take all of her scary piercings out, wear a nice sundress, and not the ungodly splash of dark blacks and purples she usually wore. “I really don’t understand. We’ve never been religious. Plus… what about M/n?”

M/n, her twin brother, stood on the church's stoop with his arms crossed. He scratched at his neck, irritated by the itchy fabric of the cashmere sweater he’d been stuffed into. He’d also had to take out his piercing, cover his tattoos, and style his hair so his eyes and ridiculously long eyelashes were visible. Oh, and he was supposed to hide the fact that he was out of the closet here in this place too. Great.

Tapping his scuffed white sneakers against the pavement, M/n sighed, “I’m fine. Can we just go in already? It’s so fucking cold.”

His mom huffed, “Alright, but none of that. Do this for me.” She wagged her finger in his face briefly, then set her back as she walked in her best dress-up wedges up the rest of the stairs. This wasn’t just some nostalgic trip for her. The church was also where most of her new coworkers went. One of the kinder ones had even invited her to join. To her, this was a chance to finally fit in.

The twins shuffled behind her like reluctant ducklings, keeping their heads down as they stepped through the entrance. At the front, a woman was setting out stacks of pamphlets, her expression focused until she spotted their mom.

“Mrs. Yoon!” Their mom exclaimed, the woman looking up from her tidying up the paper books. Her focused face turned into a bright smile.

“Oh Kara, please call me Hyeri, no need to be formal.” She said in a shy whisper as she reached out for a hug. While their mom and Mrs. Yoon embraced, M/n and Daena stood awkwardly a few feet away. Their hands hung in front of them, and after a quick glance at each other, they bowed slightly, just like their mom had drilled into them whenever they met another Korean family.

Haneul smiled brightly, “Nice manners. You must be M/n and Daena. Oh my, you two look so alike,” Haneul looked back at Kara, “Are they twins?”

“Yep, 14 hours of labor these two,” Their mom sucked her teeth dramatically, “Two peas in a pod, just like their father.”

Daena pressed her lips into a fine line at the mention of their father, but the two adults were too busy chatting it up they didn’t even notice the twins following behind looking at each other with annoyance.

As Mrs. Yoon brought the family of three down to her row of pews, she turned to the twins. “You two should head downstairs to the bible study. My two boys are down there as well as some of the other kids!”

“That sounds fun, right?” Kara’s tone was overly bright as she elbowed Daena, her eyes practically begging. Please, for the love of God, just go along with it.

M/n rolled his eyes and sighed, shifting his shoulders back. “Fine. We’ll go, Mom. Whatever.”

Awkwardly, the twins shuffled back toward the entrance, their mom’s hopeful smile burning into their backs like a spotlight. They reached the stairwell and hesitated before heading down. The narrow staircase creaked under their feet, leading to a dim hallway lined with small rooms on either side. At the very end, light spilled out of an open door.

Inside, about ten kids sat around a circular table, colorful Bibles scattered in front of them, all open to the same page. A low hum of chatter filled the room, mixed with the occasional rustle of pages and a quiet laugh.

As they stepped closer, M/n’s throat felt tight, the collar of his sweater pressing uncomfortably against his neck. His fingers fidgeted with the sleeve, tugging it further down his arm as if to double-hide the tattoos already hidden beneath the thick fabric. He stole a glance at Daena, who looked just as out of place, her shoulders hunched slightly as she fiddled with the hem of her sundress.

Neither of them said a word, but the awkward tension between them spoke volumes.

“Oh, are you two here for Bible study too?”

The voice came from a blonde girl who had just turned around, catching sight of the twins. Her cheerful tone was paired with a distinct Canadian accent. “I’m the youth leader. Come on in and grab a seat.”

Before either of them could respond, she gestured enthusiastically for them to follow. She led them to the table, her upbeat energy completely unbothered by their obvious reluctance. “You can sit right here next to the Yoons,” she said, motioning toward two empty chairs.

The twins glanced at the seats and then at the pair of Korean teens already sitting there. The Yoons looked about as lost and overwhelmed as they felt, their postures stiff and their expressions blank.

M/n hesitated for a moment before finally dropping into the chair with a resigned sigh. Daena slid into the seat next to him, muttering a soft “thanks” to the youth leader, though her voice barely registered.

The other kids around the table stole quick glances at the newcomers, their curiosity thinly veiled. On the opposite side, two girls exchanged hushed whispers, giggling softly as they eyed the twins—though their attention lingered a little too long on M/n. One of them nudged the other, her cheeks flushing as she stifled a grin.

As the group began flipping their Bibles to a new passage, one of the Yoon boys silently slid his Bible toward M/n. His movements were subtle, almost hesitant, as if he’d already picked up on how out of place the twins felt.

M/n glanced at the Yoon boy, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise before giving a small nod of acknowledgment. He took the Bible, his fingers brushing over the worn edges of the pages as he adjusted it in front of him.

At the top of the pages, colorful Post-it notes were stuck haphazardly, filled with scribbles in both English and Korean. Some notes had doodles in the corners, while others listed verses or thoughts in rushed handwriting. Each one was labeled with the name “Yechan” scrawled neatly at the top, standing out among the chaotic writing.

M/n’s eyes lingered on the notes for a moment, his fingers brushing over one of the edges as he tried to make sense of the mix of languages and ideas. He glanced back at the Yoon boy, who gave him a small, shy smile before looking away, fidgeting with the edge of his own Bible.

Daena caught the quiet exchange and nudged M/n’s thigh with hers under the table. When he turned to her, she raised an eyebrow, a subtle smirk tugging at her lips. He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto his face.

The rest of the session went on like that—small, shared glances, whispered comments between the twins, and the occasional stifled laugh when one of the girls across the table shot M/n another not-so-subtle look.

When the session finally ended, the twins were making their way back through the hallway when the Yoon boys caught up with them.

“Hey, sorry we didn’t talk much earlier,” the older boy said, his voice polite as he dipped into a slight bow. “I’m Keeho, and this is my younger brother, Yechan.”

Yechan offered a small wave, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweater. “Nice to meet you,” he said quietly, his gaze flicking between M/n and Daena before landing on the floor.

Daena stepped in to lead the conversation. “I’m Daena, and this is M/n,” she said, nodding toward her brother. “We’re the kids of your mom’s coworker. We just moved here, actually.”

“Like, just moved?” Keeho asked, his tone curious.

“Yep,” Daena confirmed with a slight shrug.

“Where do you guys go to school?”

“Oh, uh, I go to an all-girls school,” Daena replied, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And M/n does school online.”

“Oh, okay,” Keeho said, nodding slowly. “I was just curious because most of the kids here go to the same school. But honestly… we don’t really mingle with them much. We don’t exactly fit in.”

Daena chuckled dryly. “Tell me about it.”

Before anyone could say more, a sharp beep followed by a soft vibration drew M/n’s attention. He glanced down at his smartwatch, tugging his sweater sleeve up just enough to read the message. He didn’t even notice that part of his tattoo had slipped into view—though Yechan definitely did.

Yechan’s gaze lingered on the ink, curiosity flashing in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, shoot,” M/n muttered, lowering his arm quickly. “It’s Mom. We should head back upstairs.”

As the four made their way back upstairs, M/n and Yechan fell behind their more talkative siblings, both of them awkwardly stealing glances at each other. There was a quiet tension between them, unspoken but palpable, as they lingered just out of earshot of Daena and Keeho.

M/n glanced at Yechan, who quickly looked away, his cheeks faintly pink. They both seemed unsure of what to say, the silence between them growing heavier with every step.

When they finally made it upstairs, the twins stepped outside to find their parents still deep in conversation. As they approached, the topic of lunch came up.

“Why don’t you guys come with us for lunch?” Mrs. Yoon asked with a warm smile. “The place we always go has amazing Korean food. I know you’re probably dying for a real homey kind of meal, Kara.”

Kara raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Homey kinda meal, huh? You’re not wrong,” she replied with a grin, clearly excited at the thought of a good, home-cooked-style meal.

The Korean restaurant bustled with life, the warm lighting casting a cozy glow over the large booth where the families gathered. Kara slid in first, followed by Daena, Keeho, and Mrs. Yoon. Mr. Yoon took a seat at the end, leaving M/n and Yechan to share the other side of the booth.

M/n hesitated, glancing at Yechan before sliding into the booth first, tucking himself against the wall. Yechan followed, sitting stiffly next to him, leaving a small but noticeable gap between them.

As menus were handed out, Kara turned to Mrs. Yoon. “It’s a shame your daughter couldn’t come. What’s she up to today?”

“She has gymnastics practice,” Mrs. Yoon said with a proud smile. “She’s been working hard for an upcoming competition.”

“Gymnastics? That’s incredible!” Kara said, her enthusiasm genuine. “Daena used to compete back in Vancouver. She loved it.”

Daena perked up at the mention. “Yeah, it’s been a while, but I’d love to get back into it.”

Mrs. Yoon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Mina would love to meet you! Maybe they could practice together sometime.”

“That sounds perfect,” Kara said, turning to Daena with a grin. “You could use a friend here.”

While the adults chatted, M/n glanced sideways at Yechan, who was studying the menu intently. Not wanting to seem rude, he spoke softly. “Um, do you come here a lot?”

Yechan startled slightly but looked over at him, nodding quickly. “Yeah, it’s… one of our favorite spots. The kimchi jjigae is really good.”

“Oh. Cool.” M/n smiled faintly, looking back at his menu. After a pause, he added, “I’ve never had it before. Is it, like, really spicy?”

Yechan’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Not too bad. You should try it.”

“Maybe I will,” M/n murmured, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the menu.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but neither seemed to know how to push the conversation further. Every so often, their shoulders brushed as Yechan shifted slightly, and M/n felt a blush creep up his neck.

“Hey, what are you two whispering about?” Keeho’s voice cut in from across the table, making both boys freeze.

“Nothing,” M/n said quickly, his voice slightly higher than usual. He ducked his head, pretending to study the menu again. Yechan turned back to his own menu, his ears tinged pink.

The dinner wrapped up without much fuss, the table full of empty dishes and the air light with easy conversation. Kara and Mrs. Yoon had spent most of the meal reminiscing and swapping work stories, while Keeho and Daena kept the energy up with their playful banter. Yechan and M/n barely exchanged words, though M/n felt Yechan’s quiet presence beside him like a shadow he couldn’t quite shake.

When the group finally stepped out into the cool evening air, M/n quietly slipped away from the group, drawn toward the brightly lit window of a record store nearby. The neon “OPEN” sign buzzed faintly, its light reflecting off the glass as M/n pressed closer to the display. Rows of vintage records caught his attention—Guns N’ Roses, Boney M., and some SOTD vinyls prominently displayed.

He let out a soft breath, his fingers twitching at his sides. This was his kind of space, somewhere far removed from the suffocating politeness of dinner and the confusing tug-of-war inside his head.

“You like that kinda music?”

The voice, soft but clear, made him stiffen. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Yeah,” M/n said after a pause, keeping his eyes on the display. “I collect them. When I can afford it, anyway.”

Yechan moved to stand beside him, his reflection appearing faintly in the glass. He didn’t say anything at first, just slipped his hands into his coat pockets and tilted his head as if studying the display himself.

“You’ve got an interesting taste,” Yechan said finally, his tone casual but his words landing heavy, like he was trying to say more than he let on.

M/n glanced at him, his gaze flickering briefly before returning to the window. “Yeah? Didn’t know you’d be into this kind of stuff.”

Yechan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

M/n swallowed hard, the tension from dinner creeping back into his chest. It wasn’t just the words; it was the way Yechan said them, like he was deliberately pulling at a thread M/n didn’t want unraveled.

“Anyway,” M/n said, shifting on his feet. “I should probably—”

“You’ve got a tattoo.” Yechan’s voice cut through, soft but firm.

M/n froze for a moment, then glanced down instinctively at his arm, realizing the sleeve of his sweater had slipped up slightly. The edge of one of his tattoos peeked out, the dark lines stark against his skin.

“So what?” M/n muttered, tugging the fabric back down.

Yechan’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but his gaze stayed steady. “Nothing. Just didn’t expect it.”

There it was again—that strange undercurrent, like Yechan was circling him, trying to draw something out. M/n felt his pulse quicken, and for a moment, he couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or something else entirely.

“I should get back,” M/n said abruptly, stepping back from the window.

Yechan didn’t stop him, but as M/n turned away, he caught the faintest flicker of a smirk on Yechan’s face in the reflection.

The walk back to the group felt heavier than it should have, and even as they said their goodbyes and piled into the car, M/n couldn’t shake the feeling that Yechan had gotten under his skin in a way he wasn’t sure he liked—or understood.

Back at the apartment, the bathroom mirror was fogged from the warm air rising from the sink as M/n and Daena stood side by side, reclaiming their identities piece by piece.

Daena twisted her septum piercings back in, her reflection smirking at her brother. “You okay? You’ve been quiet since dinner.”

“I’m fine,” M/n replied curtly, focusing on threading his earring through the hole in his lobe and cuffs back at the top of his ears.

“Sure you are,” she teased, nudging him lightly. “You looked like a deer in headlights the whole time. Or maybe more like a deer being stalked.”

M/n paused, glancing at her through the mirror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Daena raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to inspect her nose ring. “You tell me. Yechan barely looked at anyone else, and you? You looked like you didn’t know whether to run or… something else.”

M/n scowled, but his pulse betrayed him, quickening as he remembered the way Yechan’s eyes lingered, the way his voice had dipped just slightly, like he knew he was throwing M/n off balance.

“Whatever, I’m not falling in love with the church boy,” he muttered, shoving his cartilage piercing back in and turning toward the door.

Daena shrugged, watching him go with a knowing smirk. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

Alone in his room, M/n sat on his bed, his fingers idly tracing the edges of his tattoos through his sleeve. He couldn’t shake the feeling Yechan had left behind—a strange mix of curiosity and unease.

Hunted. That was the word Daena used, and as much as he hated to admit it, she wasn’t wrong.

M/n lay sprawled on his bed, the dim light of his bedside lamp casting a warm, hazy glow across his room. The soft hum of distant traffic filtered through the partially open window, a quiet backdrop to the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He stared up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in a slow, uneven rhythm.

Yechan’s face lingered there, vivid in the soft shadows. The way his dark eyes had locked onto M/n, steady and unreadable, was impossible to forget. There had been something unsettling in that gaze—like Yechan had been looking at him, through him, peeling back the layers he kept hidden.

M/n shifted under the covers, his skin prickling with an almost unbearable awareness, and his hand traveled down to his crotch underneath his sweatpants. He could still feel Yechan’s presence beside him at the dinner table, the faint brush of his shoulder when he leaned too close, the low timbre of his voice curling around words that seemed to hold a double meaning. Slowly, M/n’s hand slow stroked himself hard as he leaned back on his pillow, lips clamped together to keep his sinful noises muted.

It wasn’t just the memory of Yechan’s smirk, his lips, as they stood by the record store window, or the quiet way he had said, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” It was the way he made M/n feel—cornered, exposed, and something else. Something electric.

M/n’s fingers tightened around the edge of his blanket as his mind wandered unbidden to the faint scent of Yechan’s cologne, how it lingered just enough to pull him in without overwhelming him. The thought of it made his stomach tighten, as his pace fastened and his whiny moans seeped through his lips. “Fuck,” he whined, covering his mouth with his free hand, a desire that his hand was Yechan’s, veins creeping up his slender fingers. With a few more strokes, M/n came with his body jolting with satisfaction.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration mingling with something deeper, harder to name as he reached over to his nightstand to grab some tissue and clean himself up then turned over. The air in the room felt heavy, and no matter how much he shifted, he couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position. His thoughts looped back to Yechan’s smirk, the almost predatory way he seemed to observe him, as though he was waiting for M/n to stumble, to react.

And M/n hated how much he had reacted—how his heart had pounded when their eyes met, how his pulse had quickened at Yechan’s quiet remarks.

He pressed his palms against his face, willing his thoughts to quiet, but the warmth pooling in his chest betrayed him. Yechan had gotten under his skin, in his head, and M/n wasn’t sure he could or even wanted to shake him out.

Now he felt like something horrible.

He felt like a sinner.

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