#if u managed to get a job in this fancy fancy office building u can use ur words!!!!!!! and get ur coffee | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

renjunbae · 3 years ago

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resurface; kim jungwoo.

synopsis : all you had wanted was a quiet summer by the beach to relax, escape the oppressiveness of the city, and get your mind off of your last disastrous relationship, but apparently peace was hard to come by, especially when a figure from your past reappears unexpectedly in your life.

pairing : kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre : beach resort au, university au, romance, fluff

warnings : (very) mild profanities

length : 7.1k

soundtrack : let me drown - deanz ft. andy delos santos; u n eye - boy in space; sun goes down - aiyo

author's note : this is part of the ot23 "resonance beach" collab hosted by @amorajae. thank you so much for letting me participate & go check out the collab masterlist for more addicting summer reads!

Socializing had never been so suffocatingly painful and pretentious.

Clinking champagne glasses, aimless mingling and a forever unending charade of polite smiles that never quite reached one’s eye, they surrounded you like a shroud that made it hard to breathe, a shirt that was too tight and biting uncomfortably at the neck. Much like the very dress you were wearing at the moment; form-fitting, over-the-top fancy, and narrow in all the spots you hated.

Oh, how you wished to change out of it all. Rip off the structured binds around your entire being, take off and away from the repetitive scene that had become more frequent over the past weeks and the main cause of your headaches. But there was nothing you could do about it except stare uselessly at the clock as its hands ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you hated that fact more than anything else.

“Well then, it has been lovely to meet you, Miss (Y/N). I can see that your parents have done an excellent job raising such an elegant and well-mannered young lady.” The concluding words, along with an outstretched hand, snapped you out of your misery and forced your attention back to the middle-aged man before you. Already, you were struggling to recall his name from the brief—or was it excruciatingly long?—introduction he’d done when he sought to strike a conversation with you twenty minutes earlier. Was he a superior of your father’s? Or maybe a recent acquaintance of your mother’s? You didn’t know, nor cared, really. After two hours of entertaining your parent’s countless associates with answers to their onslaught of questions about which college you attended and other various aspects of your personal life, you no longer had much energy left to spare for further pretense.

For the entirety of the exchange, you’d somehow gotten by with absentminded nods and murmured agreements. Thankfully, your latest companion was too immersed in his tales to notice your drifting focus and lack of interest, at which you almost heaved a sigh of relief. If your parents had received word of your misbehavior, you’d be a goner for sure, and you certainly were not looking forward to another round of their droning lecture about mannerism, etiquette, and public image.

“It was nice meeting you too,” you managed to return with a smile that was just about passable for being semi-enthusiastic, though inside, you were cringing hard at your poor attempts of keeping up the graciously civilized front your mother had always insisted for you to display in public. Forget the crowded dinner parties, forget the fancy evening galas, with every passing minute you were closer to less than a hair’s breadth away from plopping down on the nearest sofa and calling it quits. But you retained your composure and made sure to wave politely as the man stepped away, only letting out a long-held breath after his figure had completely disappeared amidst the crowd.

The room was getting uncomfortably stuffy, and your desire to leave was ever growing as you struggled to get through the throng of chattering bodies for some space alone. Sure, you’d been at a number of clubs and parties with your friends, but they were always on the more laid back and easygoing side of the atmosphere spectrum. You didn’t have to put up a perfect front for others to examine, nor be pressured to uphold your entire family’s reputation. And you certainly wouldn’t be obliged to answer your mother’s calls from ten feet away, beckoning you over to no doubt meet another friend of hers.

It was all the same, over and over. Introductions, small talk, and then going into the personal life of the (L/N)s’ “all grown up” daughter.

“Neo Tech University? The top school in the area? How nice!”

Your father beamed proudly. “Of course, she’s my daughter, after all.”

The adults laughed. You didn’t join them, instead picking at the fabric of your gown until the conversation required your participation again.

“She’s matured so much, I bet she has all the boys at her heels already,” The lady commented, to which your mom immediately responded with a pleased smile and, “Of course, she’s got a boyfriend too. They’re soo cute together. Hey, honey, how come he hasn’t come around in a while?”

God, why? Why, of all things, did they have to bring this up? You felt your insides squeezing together painfully at the mention of the topic, your fists clenched so hard you could feel your fingernails digging into your skin. You’d thought this night couldn’t get any worse than it already was, but you were wrong, it just did. Their gazes were all set on you expectantly, and you hated the attention. Hated being the focus of the conversation and picked apart to the seams.

“We broke up,” you said eventually, avoiding your parents’ eyes.

Your mother's smile fell away to an expression of shock and disbelief. “Why? I thought you two were doing so well with each other.”

Yeah, we were, before he cheated on me, you were tempted to say. To firmly erase any of your mother’s misconceptions that she had even a single idea of what was going on in her daughter’s life. But you just shrugged nonchalantly, as if the breakup was only a trivial matter. If you’d told them the truth, your mother would’ve no doubt considered it a huge blow to her reputation.

“It’s alright, you’ll find someone else who’s worthy of you,” the lady patted your shoulder sympathetically, and you felt your face heat up in a mixture of humiliation and frustration. The last thing you needed was someone telling you that in public.

You figured this was a good time to leave, maybe dig a hole and bury yourself in it. Tonight had been a suitable enough reason. Murmuring a quick apology to the adults, you excused yourself and made your way toward the exit before your mother could intercept. People stared as you passed, but at this point, their hypercritical looks were the least of your concerns. If grown-up life was beyond the point of “childishness” and “selfish acts”, then you’d grown beyond the point of caring.

By the time you’d arrived home, it was already ten o’clock. You and your parents had left for the gala around six-thirty, which meant you’d spent at least a good three hours and a half at the venue, engaging in hollow, repetitive conversations with near strangers. It was exhausting, to say the least, and you found yourself craving a warm bath the moment you stepped through the door. But you had your priorities set straight, and after changing into some casual clothing, you made a beeline for the kitchen to make yourself a pot of ramen. You were practically starving after almost an entire night of strolling around and snacking only on lady-like portions of foreign delicacies at the event.

While the water boiled, you dialed your best friend’s number. She’d told you of her plans—or the lack thereof—this evening, consisting of nothing but binge watching anime and consuming an inhumane amount of triple chocolate fudge ice cream. That was basically an open invitation for you to call her whenever you felt like ranting about old men and how it just wasn’t fair no one else was obligated to chat for hours on end with them about stock market prices, and you accepted it gladly.

Yera picked up on the second ring. True to her word, you could hear the incoherent Japanese shouting of the characters in whatever anime she was binging at the moment.

“How did it go? The gala?”

Just the sound of her voice was enough to ease some of the tension in your shoulders. Your best friend always knew what to say and how to lift your spirits in times like this, no matter how blunt and straightforward she may be, and you were looking forward to her advice.

“Terrible,” you groaned. “Whoever came up with the idea of stuffing over two hundred boring, judgmental business people in a room far too bright and oxygen-lacking must’ve been out of their mind.”

You heard Yera snort from the other side of the line. “Yeah, no shit, sherlock. You know, I’d reassure you it’s not that bad, but I know it’s exactly that bad.”

You shifted your position so that you faced the kitchen window, where a view of the city’s nightscape unfolded before your eyes. The sky was dark, but thousands of glimmering lights made up for it—neon billboards, cars flying by on the busy streets below, office lightings, roadside lamps, and glowing patches of yellow from residential buildings like your own. You stared out at the sea of twinkling sparks, and for a moment, felt so very small amidst the immensely vast world.

“They mentioned him.”

There was only a beat of silence. Yera didn’t need long to catch onto who you were referring to.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, they were talking about boys and then my mom brought up the fact that I have a boyfriend—had, actually,” you sighed, an action you found occurring more often than not lately. “Guess I forgot to tell them he’s an ex now, but then again, they didn’t ask before.”

“Gosh, that must’ve been so awkward.”

“It was,” you shut your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose with your forefingers. “You tell me. I had to leave, right away. I’m just glad it’s over now.”

“Wait wait wait, hold on. How many of these event thingies have you gone to in the past week?”

“Three, not counting the time my mom had some friends over for lunch. They stayed until dinner, actually, and we had to go out and eat.”

“What the heck?? And you let them drag you along?”

“It’s my duty to accompany them, I guess. They’d be mad if I don’t go and let them show me off for a bit. But then again, there usually aren’t this many events. My dad just signed a contract with some important clients, and my mom’s been invited to a bunch of social gatherings, plus the fact that normally, I’d have school as an excuse. There’s just been more of them recently, and it’s not like I have any good enough reason to opt out.”

Yera gasped. “It’s summer. Summer!! That’s all they should need. It’s summer break right now and it’s your time off. They shouldn’t need any more reason than that. And whether it’s the norm or not, you have to know that you are in charge of yourself and that you get to decide what you do with your own life, not them.”

“You have a point, Yera, you always do, but...” you shook your head. “I honestly don’t know at this point. Things are easier said than done. I hate it all, but in a way, it’s part of my responsibility.”

“Okay, oookay. That’s it. No more dinner parties or rich people galas for you, (Y/N). It’s your time off and I’m going to make sure you take some time off. Aren’t you tired of them ordering you around? You’re the one who’s in control of your own life, (Y/N). Go have a nice vacation and stay away from adult business for at least a few weeks, or I’m not letting you anywhere near my mom’s homemade honeycomb brownies again, got it?”

If Yera was bringing her mother’s brownies into the deal, then you knew she was serious. Somehow, despite the situation, you almost felt like laughing. Felt like you were invincible, as if her words brought a surge of confidence along with it. Smiling up at the night sky, you said, “Well, I guess I have to do it for those brownies.”

“Good, now go on and take on the world!”

The world—or, namely, your parents—was clearly not amused when you dragged your suitcase into the living room at eight in the morning the next day, dressed in a flowery blouse, your favorite jean shorts, and a pair of heeled sandals. They’d been eating breakfast at the dining table just ten paces across as you entered, engrossed in a conversation about the latest commercial trends and news of the business world. They looked up at the sound of wheels against the marbled floor, an initial expression of shock crossing their faces as they took in your outfit and the luggage in your hands.

Your father looked almost bewildered as he glanced between you and your mother, who’s brows had deepened into a frown. She shook her head as if to clear away thoughts of disbelief, though you could detect the note of disapproval that was weaved into the action.

“What’s with this?” she asked, her tone stern and commanding, almost as if to compel you into saying exactly what she wanted: “Nothing, mom. I’m not going anywhere.”

It had always been that way. You’d intend to do something, and she’d shut you down before you could even try. But not this time.

“Carrying out my plans for summer break,” you replied and paused before continuing. “Why?”

The lines on your mother’s forehead deepened. “Plans?”

She was waiting for you to either straight up admit what you were up to or give up. You knew that, and you didn’t want to beat around the bush either, so you looked her right in the eyes and said, “Summer vacation plans, mom. I’m leaving today.”

“(Y/N), I thought we already talked about this. You can’t just—”

“Go around and quit my duties? Yeah, I know.”

“Then what are you doing right now?”

“I’m not quitting,” you said through gritted teeth, “I’m taking the break that I deserve.”

“You’re running away,” your mother accused, her voice trembling with incredulity and, despite her apparent effort to keep it controlled, a slight hint of anger. “You’re going back on your promise and you’re not going to do what you should just because you don’t want to. Stop being so selfish and naive, (Y/N). You’re not a child anymore.”

It was something just suddenly snapped inside you, and all your pent up frustration boiled over. “Selfish? Mom, do you ever think about how I feel? I’ve put up with all the things you wanted me to do and I can’t even have a single moment when I try to focus on my own happiness for once?”

“You promised—”

“I’m not a replacement for him!”

Your parents stared, momentarily speechless from your outburst. In the silence, you felt the frustration and anger wear away and bubble down to something that resembled a fevered hurt. The broken pain in your mother’s face seemed to mirror your own, but the words slipped out anyway.

“No matter what, I can’t be him. I can’t replace him. I know that’s what you want me to be, and that if I was, maybe you could think that he’s never gone, but I can’t. I just…”

You could see that your comments had hit their mark.“(Y/N)—” your mother started.

But at this point, you were too tired of arguing to continue. You didn’t wait to hear what she had to say, only picked up your bags and headed for the entranceway. You exhaled as the door clicked shut behind you. Gosh, I’m really going to do this, am I?

Resonance Beach Resort was a nice change from the usual fast-paced schedule of your daily life that was full of unwanted obligations and tasking duties. You'd visited often in your early childhood and teenage years, and had loved the place for its elegant, luxurious accomodations and the spectacular view of a pristine beach that spanned along the resort's outer edge. But since some time ago, all the pressure and weight of your increasing responsibilities had suddenly just came crashing down on you, and you found yourself taking cram school more often than not due to your parents' constant urging. There just simply wasn't any time for you to take the long vacation you desperately craved. Now that things have finally lessened up to nothing but socializing with your parents' acquaintances, this was the first place you'd thought of for the perfect getaway. Just hide away from the rest of the world for a little bit before reality kicks in and you'd sink back into your busying routine. Here, you could finally have some peace and quiet, be able to breathe easier for once. No more business events or get-togethers, no more forced polite conversations over tall glasses of champagne. If you were going to party, then you should at least do it properly. You figured that aside from relaxation and watersports, Resonance Beach Resort had exactly that.

You'd switched over to your spare phone for the duration of your stay. If your parents decided they've had enough of your “childishly selfish acts”, they'd be greeted by a long period of ringing without answer, followed by an irksome beep and the message that, "sorry, the number you've dialed is not available".

The fight still simmered fresh at the front of your mind, and you shook your head in an attempt to brush it away. A small part of you felt almost guilty about your abruptly impromptu runaway, but it was merely a fleeting thought that passed as quickly as it had come. You knew how hard it was for your parents since what had occurred years ago, and that they were afraid of the same thing happening with you. Still, it wasn’t fair for you to bear the burden of two and act in as a mere substitute only to make someone else feel a bit better. Since when did you owe your parents your entire summer break to play pretend anyways? It isn't as if it actually helped you do anything except feed your growing boredom and frustration for hours on end.

You walked into the entrance hall and made your way to the reception area that sat in the middle of the gentle hum of music and red carpets and golden chandeliers. After going through the check-in process, you received your room cards and headed toward your room to drop off your luggage first.

The west-side elevator was mainly empty aside from a few other visitors who, like you, arrived earlier than most do. They’d entered before you and stood along the side panels, each scrolling through their devices for news and texts. Why take the time and money to come and visit, you wondered, if they were going to just be on their phones all the time? But then again, you were glad none of them paid any attention to you and savored the peaceful silence. The back of the elevator was adorned with clear glass panes that overlooked the beachside, allowing riders to gaze out at the scenery below them as they rose high above ground. You stared at the swaying palms and foaming waves in the distance, and thought that—despite being here so many times before—the view had never looked so welcoming before. You couldn’t wait until you could get down there and enjoy the feel of the warm sunshine on your back, hear nothing but the calming hum of the ocean.

There was a short ding! as the elevator doors opened and a middle-aged woman exited. You turned briefly to watch her leave and the doors clang shut once more behind her. Some passengers shifted around to space themselves more evenly upon her departure, but other than that, it was the same, still, silence as before. A few more minutes passed, and the process repeated until it was just you and another man standing by the front. On the controls panel, only one floor button was lit up.

He was handsome in the most traditional sense, tall and fit with tousled dark hair, flawlessly smooth skin and wide doe eyes directed at his phone screen. Although he was only dressed in a simple graphic tee and sweatpants, they looked too expensive for the average person to afford and the look suited him so well he could no doubt pass for the modern-day version of Cinderella’s Prince Charming. You almost laughed at the thought. That had been your reaction too when you first saw your ex, and you fell for him so quickly, so easily, it didn’t take much to convince you that he loved you as much as you loved him. After all, why not? His family had been wealthy and influential like your own, and your parents—mostly your mom—had absolutely adored him. You thought you’d been living the perfect fantasy until it all broke down and your palace had turned into nothing more than rubble and ashes.

In the quiet buzz of the elevator, you could hear as the stranger dialed a number on his phone and put it to his ear. Whoever on the other side must’ve answered immediately, because the man started to talk right away.

“Hey, where are you guys?”

“Okay, just checking that you’re in the suite because I don’t have the key.”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, why?”

“Woo wants another bag of his favorite chips from the convenience store? Seriously? We’re at a fancy beach resort and he wants chips from the convenience stores? God.”

“Yeah, I brought them, don’t worry. I swear he stuffed my trunk full of them when I wasn’t looking because I barely even have space in there anymore. Geez, you’d think he would die if he went a day without those.”

“Yeah, okay. Mm-hmm. That’s fine by me. Sounds fun. See you.”

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but the slight echo in the space made it easy for you to hear every word the man said. And for some reason, it brought back long-ago memories of you and your brother, having the time of your lives marveling over the elevator’s view. Arguing about whose snacks the ones in the bag were. Roaming around the resort like it was your own home. That wasn’t possible now, of course. He was farther away than ever, and happier. There wasn’t anything you could do except be happy for him, though that did nothing to help the sore ache in you.

Your entire life felt like a train wreck at the moment, but then again, that was why you were here at Resonance Beach Resort in the first place. And as the elevator dinged once more, you were determined to make your summer better. Much better.

An afternoon in the sun seemed to do its trick.

After spending several hours out by the rolling waves, reading magazines and enjoying the spontaneity of doing whatever you’d wanted to on a whim, you were ready to call it a day. The freedom was exhilarating, and though you’d done much less that you would’ve on a typical weekday, you felt much more fulfilled than before. You’d eaten a quick informal dinner down in the dining hall, too tired to spend time on a full-course meal, only stopping by the vending machine on your way back to your room for a drink.

You inserted your money into the slot, pausing for a moment to look at your choices. Ginger ale would be good, you decided absentmindedly, your thoughts already drifting elsewhere. When the drink rolled out of the machine, you stooped to pick it up before preparing to leave. You turned and, not realizing there was someone behind you, ran right into them, your arm bumping against theirs. The impact knocked the can of ginger ale out of your hands and you quickly bent down to pick it up before it could roll away.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault.”

You straightened up to see the man from the elevator. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, an apologetic smile on his face. He was close enough that you could see the curved bow of his lips and the way his eyes crinkled in good humor, the way the tips of his ears were red in embarrassment at having knocked into you.

You blushed at the close proximity between you and the stranger, before remembering your manners and shaking your head lightly, “No, I’m sorry, it was my fault as well. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or what to do, until the man’s eyes landed on the room card in your hand.

“Suite 1009? What a coincidence, my friends and I are right next door. Want me to walk you back since we’re—you know—going the same way?”

You gave a little startled laugh, finding a bit of comfort in the fact that even a man as good-looking and confident-seeming as him could stumble over his words in situations like this. You’d pegged him for the type with an air of arrogance, but his voice held a sort of genuine sincerity and modesty along with the charm you’d expected. “Of course, I’d love that.”

As you walked down the corridor together, he seemed to realize something, and started in surprise, “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Jaehyun. Jung Jaehyun.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. Is this your first time here?”

“Well, yes, my friends and I were planning to go somewhere for the summer, and one of my friends recommended this resort. How did you tell?”

“I used to come here a lot, but I haven’t visited in a while. I came back to escape city life, I guess, though I must admit I missed this place tons. The things adult life takes away from you are just plain cruel.”

“I know right? Sometimes I wish I could just go back to seventeen and—”

“Relive that teenage dream?” you finished.

He laughed. “Yeah, exactly.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“What, don’t you agree?” he looked at you in feigned shock.

You looked up at the ceiling as if searching for the answer in the lights above. “Yes,” you said truthfully, “I do agree.” Though it wasn’t exactly how you felt completely all the time, there was no denying that at least you’d loved the various aspects teenage years had to offer.

“You sound almost cynical about it.”

“Do I?” you shook your head. “Oh, well, personally, maybe, I guess?”

He gave you a weird look. “Think you could sound any more unsure about that?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound echoing against the walls of the hallway. As you chatted with Jaehyun, there was an undeniable tingle at the bottom of your stomach, spreading to the tips of your finger and your rosy cheeks. You didn’t know if you were willing to fall in love again, especially after your previous failures and bad encounters in romance that extended beyond your last relationship, but there was no denying that Jaehyun was fun to be around and you enjoyed his company immensely.

So when you both arrived at your destinations, you almost felt sorry to go. You lingered for a second, turning to him almost hesitantly.

Of course you’d see him again, being next-door neighbors for the next few weeks or so, as long as he’s here, but you didn’t want to leave and be all alone by yourself just yet.

Jaehyun seemed to feel the same, and he paused. “So, see you soon?”

You started to respond with a definite yes, but didn’t get a chance to answer. The door next to yours opened slightly, and some inaudible conversing trickled out from the crack. You caught a few words in the back-and-forth as you stood by your room, an amused smile at your lips. Jaehyun rolled his eyes, clearly used to this type of behavior from his friends.

“Oh, don’t mind them. They’re always like this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “They seem fun to be around.”

“Yeah, yeah, when they’re not nagging twenty-four-seven at me to get snacks for them.” Though you could see by the teasing grin on his lips that he was only kidding.

Jaehyun’s friend pushed the door open a little more so that the conversation became more distinctable. And then, a sudden recognition made you freeze in your tracks. Your heart dropped. No. No way. The smile fell from your lips, replaced with a rush of confusion and near-disbelief.

Was that…?

You heard his voice before you saw him.

“Jaehyun! You’re back, just in time—”

Brown hair, plump lips, and bright, playful eyes. His boyish features evolved into something more mature but not unlike its younger version, still lined with the same youthful innocence as years before. He was taller too, though in that moment, at first glance, you felt as if it was the only significant change in him. The familiarity jolted awake a feeling you had not felt since long ago, flipping back the pages of yesterday until it landed on a distant memory that seemed so close yet was so far away. It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment, freezing in time that had both given and taken so much from you.

Your stomach twisted with a mixture of fluttering anticipation and dizzy uncertainty.

Why here, of all times and places, did you have to meet Kim Jungwoo again?

Kim Jungwoo, who was your first love, but also your first heartbreak.

It all started the summer before your high school sophomore year, with an ice cream date as friends and a piggy back ride. You and Jungwoo had known each other for years, having met in elementary and developing a close bond over time. Though you each had your own separate friend groups, outside of school, the two of you often hung out together and spent time at each other’s houses. It wasn’t abnormal for you to have dinner at Jungwoo’s place—because your parents often went on business trips and rarely ever cooked even when they were home—and it certainly wouldn’t be a strange sight to see him on your couch, watching TV and snagging snacks from the basket on the coffee table as he waited for you to finish up your homework so the two of you could go out to the nearby park. It was practically routine when, two weeks after break began, he asked you if you wanted to go down to the beach with him and get some ice cream along the way. You texted back a quick “yes, of course” before flopping back onto your bed and blinking up at the ceiling as if in a dazed dream. And for some reason, you thought hard about what to wear.

It was an issue you never had to concern yourself with before. Jungwoo had seen you in your pajamas, bed hair and all, random mismatching clothes you’d thrown on in a hurry, and even ridiculous costumes you wore as a kid. He’d seen you down in your lowest low, face a mess with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Heck, he probably knew all your embarrassing moments by heart and could recite them on a whim. But recently, you’d started to feel more self-conscious around him, and as days passed, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror more and more, holding up different tops and pants in an attempt to decide which would look nicer. A few years ago, you would’ve laughed at the thought. You? Fussing over clothing for Jungwoo’s sake? Ridiculous, you’d never needed to. But now, it seemed that the fact that he was a boy—and a very attractive one too—just sank in, and suddenly you became all too aware of it.

After shuffling through your wardrobe for ten full minutes, you finally ended up with a closet strewn messily with discarded options and clothing racks and an outfit you dimly recalled that Jungwoo had once expressed his liking for. You’d chosen a pair of thin, spaghetti sandals that were lined with gold, a gift from one of your mother’s shopping sprees, and made an effort to brush your hair neatly to go along with it all. Good enough, you supposed, as you turned left and right to check up on your appearance. Hopefully.

You grabbed your phone and keys, scribbled a note for your parents that you doubted they’d even read, and made your way out the door. Jungwoo was waiting for you at the front, standing casually by his car with one hand in his pockets. Your heart beat faster as you approached, the continuous drumming resonating within your chest and ears.

He’d been looking down at the pavement, scuffling a stray pebble around with his toes, but quickly lifted his head at your footsteps.

“Hey,” he greeted, smiling up at you.

“Wow, looking unexpectedly grown-upish today,” you lifted an eyebrow, trying to mask your nervousness in his presence with the usual snarky remarks. You spoke with a heavy hint of sarcasm, meaning that you were only joking about the matter, but what you said was true in a way—Jungwoo did look nice, though you weren’t about to say that aloud to him. It was as if you’d just noticed how much older he’d become, and how much more matured he looked.

“Really,” he said flatly, though his eyes were crinkled in good humor. “You’re the only one in the dark then.”

You laughed. “Because other people still call you an adorable baby?”

“Haha, so funny.”

You settled into the passenger seat beside Jungwoo and watched as he leaned over to put the vehicle in ignition. His hair had grown longer since his last haircut a few months ago, and they fell over his eyes. He shook them out of his face, reaching up a hand to brush away any remaining strands that stuck to his skin. He turned to grin at you before switching over to your favorite radio station as he started to drive. You tapped your fingers to the beat, and not a minute later, the two of you were singing along to the familiar tune. Jungwoo’s voice soared up and down as he sang in a weird mock accent, and you tried hard to keep your own from trembling with uncontrollable laughter. You both knew that Jungwoo was an amazing singer, but even more so a natural at comedy.

Jungwoo parked the car a few blocks away, deciding that trying to find an open spot in the crowded beachside lots was too much of a hassle. Summer had lured many people out with the promise of good weather, and combined with the dazzling scenery of the sea, who was to say no? The brightness of the skies was all too infectious, your mood soaring like the winds above that cast a blessing of gentle coolness upon the world. It was all so perfect that you’d even surrendered to Jungwoo in a water fight, although quite begrudgingly and continuing to splash in his way afterwards.

The sparkling waterdrops glittered midair like multifaceted diamonds so that although knee deep in water, you felt almost as if you were living in the midst of a glowing fairytale. After spending some time among the rolling waves, the two of you decided to walk around a bit and let the warm air dry your clothes before going to the ice cream store. Morning went by all too quickly, and soon noon had arrived. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, the pavement burning at the soles of your shoes. You grimaced at the heat, hopping slightly to avoid getting scalded and wishing you’d worn something that wasn’t so flimsy and thin. Jungwoo seemed to notice your discomfort, glancing your way worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” you groaned. “But thanks for your concern.”

He stopped as if to consider something, then squatted down in front of you. “Here.”

“What—” you started in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden action.

“Come on, I’ll carry you.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any redder than it already was, but you swear it just did.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to. It’s my fault anyways. I should’ve worn something more suitable,” you managed.

He grinned up at you. “Yeah, you probably should’ve, but that's what I’m here for, right? Moral and well—physical—support when you make those beginner mistakes.”

“Argh, you bastard,” you half-huffed, half-laughed, whacking his shoulder lightly with one hand.

“Hey! I’m just trying to help here.”

Caught up in the slight back-and-forth, you’d forgotten entirely about the source of it all and let out a strangled gasp when a red-hot pain shot up your feet.

“Yeah, it’s not up for debate at this point. Come on, just get on already. Grab on tight.”

With surprising strength, Jungwoo hoisted you up upon his back, his arms wrapped firmly around your legs to secure you in place. Instinctively, you reached over to cling onto his neck like your life depended on it.

“Gosh, not—this—tight,” he choked out, and although you knew he was half-joking, you mumbled a laughing apology.

You were tense at first, afraid to make a single wrong move. But after a while, you felt tired of staying so still and uptight like a board and relaxed some more. When the sun’s rays stung at your eyes, you laid your head sideways against Jungwoo’s neck, your breaths falling together in the same even rhythm. He hummed a tune you did not recognize, probably another one he’d just made up randomly, and you smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you replied innocently. Just thinking how ridiculously likeable you are.

You wondered if Jungwoo could feel, through the thin fabric of your shirt, the pounding of your heart at his back, the same way you could smell the scent of the salty sea air and his favorite cologne on him. Raising a fingertip, you traced a heart lightly against his skin. He flinched. You held back a laugh. You’d done it right on his most ticklish spot.

He wouldn’t be able to tell, what you’d drawn and what you felt toward him, but at that moment, it felt like a nice secret, nestled comfortably within the confines of your heart. Maybe you’d tell him one day, when the time is right. You’d like to.

The ice cream shop of Jungwoo’s designation was just up the street. Apparently, it had opened just a while ago and, according to Jungwoo, he was dying for you to try some of their flavors. You didn’t have a favorite place you preferred, so you agreed without any conflict. As the two of you neared, you held on for just a little bit longer before hopping off reluctantly and fixing your clothes. You wished it didn’t have to end, that the two of you could stay that way forever, snug in each other’s embrace.

But it all changed when you walked inside the store.

The interior was neatly organized, with pastel-colored walls and light brown tables of different sizes scattered around the semi-spacious room, most of them occupied by other visitors. A long counter spanned the back of the shop, most of it built-in glass cases that displayed a colorful array of ice cream in their silver tubs. A couple workers stood behind it in sky-colored uniforms, occupied with a variety of tasks and tending to customers.

You breathed in softly, taking in the scent of chocolate and vanilla and an assortment of fruit. The air around you was cool, and you were immensely grateful for the air conditioners that made the atmosphere so welcoming after spending a long time in the sweltering sun.

“It’s nice here.”

“I know right?” Jungwoo grinned. “Just wait until you taste their ice cream. It’s the best.”

There was quite a line at the counter, and your skin itched with the particles of sand that had stuck to it uncomfortably. Your hair was wind-blown and a tangled mess atop your head, and you felt conscious of the fact that you probably looked like a mess. “Hey, Woo, I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” he gave you a thumbs-up. “I’ll pick out something for you. I swear you’ll love it.”

“Okay, thanks,” you laughed. “I’ll look forward to it then.”

After fixing up your hair and wiping yourself clean with a paper towel, you felt semi-presentable and headed out of the restrooms to find Jungwoo. You didn’t see him at the tables nor in the line, but in the close distance, almost hidden from view the rest of the shop but clearly visible from where you were standing, caught your attention.

Jungwoo.

Except he wasn’t alone.

A pretty girl around your age stood by him, donning the uniform of the store workers. She seemed to have just gotten off her shift and was loosening her hair from the ponytail she’d previously kept it in. Jungwoo was chatting animatedly, and she laughed at something he said, then shot back with her own response. He reached over and engulfed her in his arms, swaying her from side to side almost exaggeratedly.

There was a familiarity, closeness, in the way they interacted, and as you watched on, you felt your heart slowly clench tighter and tighter until it felt impossibly suffocating. Was this what heartbreak felt like? An ache so terrible and soul-splitting that you couldn’t quench no matter how hard you tried.

At the side counter, they were still going at it. He grabbed at her to kiss her cheek, but she turned away, pushing herself out of his grasp. He made a few more futile attempts, to no avail, and the two of them burst out laughing, her high, lovely one mixing in with his lower, boyish baritone.

You looked down, and wished you could just disappear into a hole. When you returned to the table after you made sure the commotion in the front had died down, Jungwoo was already waiting with the ice cream. One for him and the other, your favorite favor. He handed yours to you, but you found that you didn’t have the appetite for it anymore. You managed to muster up a feeble “thanks” and a strained smile, staring at the cone in your hands.

“What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t see Jungwoo’s expression, but you could hear the concern lacing his voice. As if he wasn’t laughing so merrily just a second ago.

“Nothing,” you replied, staring at the table. “I should probably go now. My parents said we were going out for lunch today.”

“But you said you didn’t have any plans,” Jungwoo said, confused.

“Well,” you shrugged, “It’s really my mom’s. Anyways, see you later.”

The bell jangled behind you as you exited the shop, the sound not as cheerful as it had been just a while before. A rush of hot air greeted you, but the stinging at your feet could no longer compare to that of the pain in you.

“Oh, okay. See you.” You could still hear his disappointed voice, although you couldn’t fathom just why he wouldn’t be glad to have some time with his girlfriend without you there as an awkward third-wheeler.

You didn’t see Jungwoo again that summer.

TO BE CONTINUED.

thanks for reading! send an ask or comment to be in taglist for upcoming chapters!

#renjunbae's works #resonancebeach #resonancebeachcollab #kim jungwoo #jungwoo x reader #nct #nct 127 #jungwoo #fem!reader #romance

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imkylotrash · 4 years ago

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I Don’t Know Why You Say Goodbye

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

Request: Graduation is coming up and while Saul is preparing for a break up, you’re getting ready to propose. Anonymous And Is it possible for a Saul Silva x reader where the reader is related to Ben, Sam, and Terra? Maybe she takes a job at the school to help train the earth fairies after the Burned Ones start appearing more? Anonymous

Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @estelmei @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @artsyle @baueoud @glowingatdawn @shadowhuntyi

Summer is inching closer and with summer comes graduation. It’s the perfect time for you to take your relationship with Saul to the next level with the help of your trusty siblings Terra and Sam. You haven’t spoken much about what you’re going to do after graduation but you know you want Saul. You want to build a life with him and you’re ready to start now.

“Just going to put this out there, okay? Flowers.” You burst out laughing not because it’s not a good idea but because it’s so typical to acquire the help of two earth fairies and their biggest contribution is flowers.

While you’re busy making a plan for how to give Saul the best proposal, he’s in Farah’s office worried about what might happen after graduation.

“Surely, they’ll want to see the world. Travel. Perhaps we can take a break so she has that chance,” he says thinking out loud much to Farah’s dismay. She just so happens to know what you’re planning but she’s been sworn to secrecy by your dad who was not supposed to share the news with anyone.

“Or maybe they’re perfectly happy where they are,” she offers but Saul isn’t convinced. He’s never been as happy as he is now and if life has taught him anything, it’s that what goes up must come down at some point. And he’s fearing graduation is the day where he has to come down.

But you, on the other hand, are more than excited. You keep fidgeting in your seat too impatient to wait much longer. The second you have your diploma, you run over to hug Saul.

“Come with me,” you whisper in his ear dragging him with you. Sam gives you a subtle thumbs up while Terra gives a not so subtle squeal of excitement. Luckily, Saul is too distracted to notice either.

“Where are we going?” Saul asks wishing he could delay what is inevitably going to happen next.

“I just have something really important I want to talk to you about.” This is it. This is the part where he loses you, he thinks to himself but you’re not a mind reader and you’re not an empath. Too busy with your own excitement, you barely notice his glum facial expression.

“Stand right here,” you say once you reach the middle of the grass field outside of Alfea.

“Look, we don’t have to make such a big deal out of this. I already know what you’re going to say,” Saul starts and immediately your face falls. Who told him?

“You already know?” you ask wondering why he doesn’t seem happier about it. Even if he knows you’re going to propose, shouldn’t he be happy about it? Unless he’s going to say no.

“There’s no reason to have this grand gesture. I agree, it’s probably for the best that we break up.” Your heart shatters and you can’t do anything other than stare at him. Suddenly, the black velvet box feels heavy in your pocket.

“Is that what you want?” You’ve never felt this tiny before. He might as well just finish the job and stamp on the pieces of your heart not completely mauled by his words.

“Of course, I don’t. I thought it’s what you wanted? Isn’t that what this is about?” He gestures with his arms now worried he might have got this all wrong.

“It’s not what I want. At all.” He looks sheepish now realising that he’s got this whole thing wrong.

“Okay. Good,” you breathe out feeling relief wash over you, “then shut up so you don’t ruin this.” He keeps his mouth closed in a thin line to prevent him from saying anything else. This is probably the easiest it’s ever been for you in regards to channelling positive feelings. The sunlight starts flickering creating several tiny rainbows wherever your magic moves. It’s some of the most complicated magic you’ve ever done but Farah had been teaching you how to control the light to your advantage just for this moment right here.

“This is beautiful,” he whispers in awe of your powers. It takes an enormous amount of effort to concentrate but you manage to form the rainbows into letters one by one.

W I L L Y O U M A R R Y M E ?

You furrow your brows in concentration as you try to hold onto the magical rainbows while simultaneously getting down on your knees holding out the ring. It’s a simple band with the today’s date engraved but you knew he wouldn’t want anything fancy.

“Of course. There’s only one answer to that. Yes!” He helps you stand up again completely taken aback as you slide the ring onto his finger.

“You sure? It’s a step in a very different direction than a break up?” you tease him with tears in your eyes. You’re so happy you wonder why you haven’t burst yet. It can’t be possibly for a person to be filled with this much happiness.

“Funny,” he says right before kissing you. It’s hot and forceful letting you know just how happy he is.

“Done with the moping around, I see.” Farah is standing there watching the two of you and your whole family as well. You look over at Saul but clearly, that’s a conversation for another day. They all congratulate you exchanging hugs and kisses. There are tears and laughter and it couldn’t be better than this.

“A toast to the happy couple,” your dad exclaims bringing out the champagne. Terra and Sam complains loudly when they realise they’ll be getting soda instead of champagne. Their bickering with dad makes you feel nostalgic. You’ve hardly graduated and you already miss them.

“Congratulations, my sweetheart.” Your dad hugs tightly once more. If this is as good as it gets, you have no complaints. Right now, you are utterly and incandescently happy.

#fate winx club #fate the winx club #fate the winx saga #winx saga #winx club #fate winx #fate #fate netflix #winx saul silva #saul silva x reader #saul silva gif #saul silva #saul silva blurb #saul silva imagine

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asian-hero · 4 years ago

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ola! so i recently found your blog and i honestly loved it. this idea has been on my mind lately and i think you're perfect for this. can u write a todoroki shoto imagine where he's conflicted if he truly loved his quirkless s/o or he just loved the idea of f**king with his dad in his rebellious "phase". make it angsty tho! ;)

A/N: Why does everyone feel the need to hurt me this way, I feel like I’m a good person who doesn’t deserve this

Pro Hero!Todoroki by the way, but I’m sure you guys know the drill

Summary: You’ve been in a relationships with Todoroki for almost a year now, and so far, it’s been pretty great. Of course, you’ve had your ups and downs, just like any couple, but you two have always managed to pull through. So, what happens when, on your anniversary, when the two of you decide to stay at home and get drunk, the rose tinted lenses come off, and all barriers are gone?

Words: 2,129

You first met Todoroki Shouto when you were running late to your job. It was around eight in the morning, you had just run out of your apartment, carrying your jacket in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. Of course, it was just your luck that, as soon as you were within sight of your office building, fate decided that things were running just a bit too smoothly, and soon enough you were colliding head on with another person, thus spilling your coffee all over yourself and onto the other person. When you looked up, an apology just waiting to spill out of your lips, you locked eyes with the number three hero, who was currently looking at you with both confusion and a bit of agitation.

After your starstruck gawking had ended, you immediately found yourself bowing deeply, an apology flowing from your mouth, along with a string of other ramblings that you couldn’t seem to hold in. He immediately calmed you down, saying something about how it wasn’t important, how you were the one who took most of the coffee hit, and that he should be the one apologizing to you. While the two of you were going back and forth on who should be more sorry, with you insisting that you should compensate him, if not for ruining his morning, then at least for all that he does for the protection of citizens like you, he told you that, if you truly wanted to make it up to him, then you should accompany him to a cafe of his choosing. After your shift, of course. So, just like that, the two of you had parted ways, though it wasn’t for very long.

Once you had finished at your job, you had walked out to find Todoroki waiting for you, for god knows how long. As the two of you had walked towards the cafe he chose, you couldn’t help but feel that the two of you had hit it off surprisingly well. Even as you had finally reached your destination, and the two of you were sitting, waiting for your meals to come, the conversation never really stopped. He would tell you about life as a hero, why he was interested in helping others, and you told him about how you also had wanted to be a hero when you were younger, but, when you had turned the ripe old age of five, and no quirk had presented itself, you had forced yourself to figure out a more, realistic, goal.

Your conversations had never faltered, and once it was time to say good bye, you found yourself reaching out to him once more, offering that the next time you two hang out, you’ll be the one to pay for the meal. Luckily for you, he readily agreed, offering his number before heading out.

Who knew that such an unlucky run-in would turn out to be a blessing in disguise?

Nearly a year later, you were in a loving relationship with the handsome hero, and you couldn’t have been happier. It hadn’t been necessarily easy, as it was hard to create a schedule where the both of you could be able to see one another, with his slightly hectic schedule and your job which actually, contrary to popular belief, didn’t end when you stepped out of the office, making it difficult. However, the two of you had made it through, and now, you were celebrating your one year anniversary.

The two of you had decided that you wouldn’t make your celebration too elaborate, as you didn’t want to be disappointed if Shouto had to deal with a villain in the middle of a fancy night out, so you told him to just leave all the planning to you. It was much more of a task than you originally thought it would be, as while you had a multitude of plans running through your mind, it was hard to settle on just one. Fortunately, when Shouto had offhandedly mentioned how stressful all the paperwork at the office was, and how all he wanted to do was down a whole bottle of wine without having to think about the consequences, it all suddenly became clear to you.

It was why you could be found, just a few hours before Shouto was supposed to come over to your apartment, that you were at a liquor store, buying anything and everything that could fit into your budget, without buying too much excess that you knew you wouldn’t drink later.

A few bottles of some fancy wine, a quick stop to pick up some cheep beer, and a hole in your wallet later, you were back at home, arranging the bottles in the most aesthetically pleasing manner. Taking out two wine glasses, you carefully positioned them in front of the bottles, though you supposed it wouldn’t matter in the long run, as you were sure that the last thing on your mind would be where the glasses would go other than near your lips. Just as you had finished setting up, you heard a knock on your door.

Brushing yourself off, you skipped over to the door, opening it to reveal a rather worn out looking Shouto, holding a bouquet of roses in one hand, while the other was shoved into the pocket of his coat. Smiling brightly, you pointed towards the flowers.

“Are those for me?”

When he nodded and held them out for you, you took them, moving them to your face and inhaling deeply. Once you looked back at him, you could see his eyes on your figure, and you couldn’t help the heat that rose to your face. Breaking away from his gaze, you took his hand in yours, dragging him into your apartment.

“C’mon, I have a surprise for you!”

As the two of you walked into your kitchen, you could practically see the confusion radiating off of the man. If you looked close enough, you could also make out a look of concern, most likely due to the large amount of alcohol that was currently sitting on your counter. Setting the roses off to the side, you moved to grab a bottle of wine and a bottle opener.

“You said that you were feeling stressed at work, and that you just wanted to down some wine to relax,” You pulled the cork from the bottle, setting it down on the counter while pouring a glass, “Well, what better night to do that than tonight?”

It took you physically pushing the glass toward him before he actually responded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thank you, (Y/N),” He started, still a bit unsure, “But are you sure this is what you wanted to do tonight? I can’t imagine many people who would want to do this on their anniversary.”

“As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter what we do,” You said, as if it were the simplest answer in the world.

With one last quizzical look, he finally took a sip of the bitter beverage and sighed. You found yourself smiling as you poured one for yourself, feeling happy that you were able to get him to relax, even if just for tonight.

As the night carried on, and a couple of wine bottles were emptied, the two of you found yourselves to be a bit of a mess. Though, you were faring much better than Shouto, as you made sure to hold back, just in case anything went wrong. After the first couple of glasses, he seemed to have finally relaxed, and it was obvious that he was drunk, with the way his words slurred together, and how he could barely keep himself awake. At one point to tried to take the glass away from him, saying that it was probably time for him to sleep, only for him to snatch it away from you, mumbling something out about how he wasn’t finished yet. It was strange to see him act like that, but it would be hard to say it wasn’t a bit endearing.

Eventually, when he wasn’t able to hold his glass anymore without spilling, you pried it away from his hands, and walked back into the kitchen, setting them in the sink for you to deal with later. Walking back to the living room where the two of you had migrated, you noticed that Shouto had found himself in a face down position, with his face buried into one of your throw pillows. Huffing out a laugh, you moved to kneel beside him, running your hand through his hair, moving his bangs away from his face. At your touch, he lifted his head up slightly, looking at you through hooded eyes.

“Hey,” He whispered, as if telling you a secret in a room filled with thousands of people, “Can I tell you something?”

Raising a brow, you nodded your head. He sat up a bit, looking deadly serious. “You can’t tell (Y/N), okay?”

Feeling intrigued, and a bit concerned at the fact that he drank so much that he was unaware he was speaking with you, you nodded your head once more. “Okay, I won’t.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes slightly closed as he spoke:

“I’m not sure if I’m in love with her,”

You felt a pang in your chest, unsure of what to say. After reeling back a bit, you finally found your voice. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head to the side, as if the weight was too much for his neck to handle. “She’s really nice, and a good person, but I don’t know if I even love her, or if—“ He cut himself off, nearly falling asleep mid sentence.

“‘If’ what?” You prodded, doing your best to hold in the tears that were threatening to fall.

He snapped back, his eyes opening blearily. “I don’t know if it’s her I love, or if it’s the idea of angering my father that I love,”

You could feel yourself start to lose control on your emotions. Perhaps it was the fact that you drank too much tonight, or the fact that the love of your life was telling you that he may only be with you so he could spite his father, you weren’t quite sure. All you knew is that you couldn’t hold back the tears as they ran down your cheeks.

“That’s cruel, Shouto.”

He sighed, resting his head down onto the pillow. “It doesn’t help that she’s quirkless,” Letting out a bitter laugh, he continued, “Everything my father would hate. It was just so easy, and now I don’t know what’s real,”

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold in your sobs, but you couldn’t. Rubbing your eyes with your palms, you wanted nothing more than to kick him out, to let him sleep on the curb, but you knew that your heart wouldn’t allow it. As much as you detested it, how stupid you felt, you loved him. Even if he didn’t love you, you loved him too much to hurt him.

At the sound of one of your sobs, Shouto’s head snapped back up, this time, his eyes held concern.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” He slurred out, moving to rest on his elbows.

You waved your hands in front of his face, not wanting him to look at you.

“I’m fine,” You croaked out, putting on a bright smile, though you supposed that the tears dimmed it, “Go back to sleep, Shouto,”

As if you’d flicked a switch, his head fell back onto the pillow, and in moments, he was knocked out once again. Taking in a few shaky breaths, you stood up, moving to pick up one of your throw blankets. Draping it over his shoulders, you took one last look at his face, and you weren’t sure if you were angered or relieved by the peaceful look he had.

Walking to your bedroom, you couldn’t feel anything but the bitter feeling in the pit of your stomach. You hated how easy it was for him to just rip apart your heart like that, how easy it was for him to tell you that you were just a pawn for him to get back at his father.

As you rested your head against your pillow, you found yourself hating your own heart as well, because even though his words had hurt, you couldn’t help but hold out for the fact that he still said he “didn’t know,” meaning that there was a possibility for him to love you.

You hated how your heart was still holding on, even while your brain was screaming at you to let him go.

#bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #todoroki shouto #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto

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duskypinkbow · 4 years ago

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Shitty weather II Jeff Wittek

summary: You meet Jeff again after a long period of time.

word count: 3,4k (upsy daisy)

note: This is my first fic ever so pls bear with me! :)

A veery very big shoutout to my lil angle @geoffwittek for proofreading and correcting my mistakes! Love u gurl u r the best 🎀

“The house could be packed“ Natalie took the time to warn you. You waved her off while putting your bag between your legs „that’s totally fine“.

As you two drove through LA traffic you looked out at the sky and noticed the clouds are getting grey. „it might rain today..“ you determined, while the two of you continued your conversation. Finally, you pulled up at her house, or to be more specific, David’s house she happened to be living in. Nat parked the car in front of the gate due to the fact that the entrance was already blocked by other cars. Your friend looked at her phone „yeeep“ she said as the scrolled through her messages „there is definitely something going on here…“ - „oh, well I can always leave right away if it gets too much“ you promised while unbuckling your seatbelt and making your way to the house.

„Daaaaavid!“ she screamed, falling to the ground in fear. „You can’t do that to me!“ she complained as her hands rested over her heart. The brown-haired boy giggled, his phone still recording in his hands. After putting it back in his pocket he helped Natalie stand up again. „That’s my idiot roommate..“ Natalie explained to you. „aaaaand boss“ he added smugly, smiling from ear to ear. He stuck his hand out towards you. „David“ he said - „y/n“ you introduced yourself in return.

Once the introductions were done, you observed a big living room further down the hallway. „Come with me…“ Natalie instructed “I’m gonna show you my closet“. You followed her steps through the living room, which was indeed packed with people. Some of them sitting on the big white couch while others were leaning on the kitchen island. Natalie greeted them with a shouted hello, while you just waved shyly in an attempt to symbolise a well meant greeting to all of them.

In the bedroom, your best friend showed you her very well organised closet filled with dresses and fancy skirts alike. „What size shoes are you?“ she asked. “umm.. y/s/s..“ you answered while looking through the endless hangers. „damn, so I can’t give you those fanc-„ before she could even finish her sentence a loud „Naaataaalieee“ came from the hallway. „ugh“ she groaned, reluctantly setting the pair of high heels down. “I’ll be right back..“ you softly nodded and continued to look through her closet.

After some time had passed you still couldn’t decide between three of her alluring dresses. You put the hanger of one of them above your head so that it was hanging clearly in front of your body. „Oh you would look so cute in that one!“ Natalie said as she was re-entering her room. You smiled at your reflection in the big mirror. „Don’t you think it’s a bit too much for a wedding?“ you asked, still a little uncertain. „Absolutely not!“ she denied your worries. „When is the wedding anyways?“ - „in like three month..“ you answered, still glancing in the mirror while posing a little for yourself in assessment. „Then just take this one and the other two… you can decide closer to the day.“ you looked up, in slight disbelief at her offer. „I mean it..“ she asserted „I won’t need them…at least not in the next couple of months“ her words reassuring you.

With the dresses in your arms, you made your way to the hall in order to leave the big house again. You waved your goodbyes to the people still sitting and chatting in the living room.

As you made a turn in the hallway your head collided with a solid chest, your body almost falling down at the sudden loss of balance. Instead, two hands rested on your shoulders, effectively preventing the fall. „sorry i didn’t see-“ you said while looking up to be met with a pair of brown eyes. Your mouth remained slightly open, the rest of the apology stuck in your throat. It’s been almost six years since you last saw him.

You met on a rainy day in late autumn. Your clothes soaking wet as you stepped through the door of the studio. „shitty weather out there huh?“ first words he ever spoke to you. „tell me about it“ you nodded, focused on trying to wring out your soaked hair. „I don’t think that will help“ he chuckled lightly. The first time you heard his laugh, the handsome boy looked at you with a little smirk. „heey..can we get a hairdryer or somethin’ for her?“ he requested the man who was passing through the room, his right hand pointing in your direction. „Yeah I can grab one, you guys here for the shoot?“ the employee asked. Both of you nodded simultaneously „Perfect. Could you get ready in here?“ he instructed you on where to go and promised someone would bring the hairdryer.

It was silent on your way in before he decided to end the quiet by asking: „Sooo..is this your first job?“ - „umm, second“ you answered shyly, a bit intimidated by his hight, especially next to your smaller figure. „Is it that obvious?“ you asked, now a little embarrassed, questioning if you already did something wrong. He chuckled again „not at all“ he reassured, holding the correct door open for you „Jus’ wanted to start a conversation “ you smiled, feeling your cheeks flush at his straightforwardness.

„Yeah, I actually have another job in like two weeks“ you said while on the phone, a little after you two began to take some photos for the launching clothing line. „No…- I guess.. - no I need to find a new place for that time.. - yeah.. - worst case scenario I will just go to a hostel or rent a cheap hotel room…- i mean I’m just sleeping there right? - no yeah...i understand.. - i should really get going now.. - i’ll call you back okay? okay.. bye“ you end the call and return next to the tall stranger you just met, waiting for instructions on what’s next in the shoot.

„uhmm“ he begins shyly, still looking to the cameraman who was adjusting his camera. „not to be nosey..but did i hear that right? You need a place to live or something?“ you looked at his side profile, explaining your current situation. „Alright, so about that..“ he interrupts, glancing between you and photographer. „A friend of mine has a spare room going in his apartment. He’s actually already looking for a new roommate, but that could be postponed. If you want to I could call him up and ask if it would be okay for you to stay there?” - „wait.. deadass?“ you ask, his generous offer shocking you. „well, I mean only if you want to?“ He looked down to observe your reaction. „I- yeah..- i mean your friend won’t murder me right?“ you joke, looking up and into his warm. He’s the first to break the eye contact, glancing at the cameraman again. „He’s one of the nicest guys I know out there…“ he assures with a small smile present. „He is so fucking nice, wouldn’t even kill a fly…“ his words of comfort continue. „Well, then yes, please I am totally willing to take you up on that offer“ is your enthusiastic response, his full attention back on you & a genuine smile decorating the handsome features. „Alright...I will ask him after the shoot is over then..“ - „Thank you so much!… it really means a lot -...umm?“ you begin, hopeful of catching his name „Oh shit yeah, guess I never introduced myself right?“ the man realised. „..My name is Jeff“ he said, reaching out for your hand „Yeah right“ you chuckle, not about to fall for his joke. „No, really..“ the smirk is back on his face. „Oh, so you are an undercover police officer just like me?“ you whisper, hoping he might catch the 21 Jumpstreet reference. „damn..“ he mutters while searching in his back pocket „this fuckin’ movie really ruined my life..“ his hand emerges with a wallet, the ID in it soon handed to you. „Jeffery Wittek..“ you read aloud „the one and only..“ he confirms still smiling softly at you.

After the shoot was over Jeff called up his friend, confirming it would be alright if you stayed with him. The very next day he helped you take all of your stuff over to his friend’s apartment.

In the weeks that followed, the two of you grew inevitably close. Although both busy with work & other responsibilities on some days, you still managed to spend at least a few hours each day together.

Sometimes he just checked in on you, making sure to ask if everything was alright. On other occasions, he visited his friend and stayed the whole day to do nothing but spending time together.

You showed him pictures of places you have been to, in return, he would share his childhood memories. You even told him about your plans for the future, while Jeff opened up about his past. It became your favourite pass time to make jokes about his inability to read properly, to which he would only tease about your short height.

Throughout your stay, the pair of you talked almost every night, about everything, just because it came so easily between you two. Always enjoying every second of valuable time together, not wanting it to end.

One of those nights, you finally built enough courage to admit that you were moving out of the country to live in Italy with your boyfriend. In reply, Jeff confessed his plans to move out to LA cause he met a girl.

Your friendship started innocently. Neither of you would have thought that it could ever build into such an intense and deep connection within the short amount of time. You were strangers only days ago, now openly sharing secrets usually too afraid to tell even the closest of friends. Maybe it was because both of you understood the reflected lack of ulterior motives in honesty. After all, you made sure to just keep things friendly, flirting carefully avoided. Or because you knew both of you were leaving, that alone reason enough not be dishonest with each other. Whatever it was, it started to become a little dangerous with time, you all too aware that the two of you were playing with the fire.

Time continued to pass, you could feel yourself begin to like the familiar boy more and more. Your heart would beat faster any time you saw him, breathing stopping for a second every time his skin touched yours. It continued on: you would get lost in his beautiful eyes whenever he looked at you, asking yourself if he could feel the same way you were. If there could ever be more. You did your best to stop those thoughts immediately, reminding your mind how you were about to leave the country for your boyfriend, whom you loved and didn’t want to betray. Besides, Jeff started to see that girl.

One night, Jeff's friend decided to hold a little get together with some of his friends, your stay in the apartment effectively forcing you to take part. Everyone had their fun, all chatting & playing drinking games on a cheerful night.

After a while, some of you somehow ended up on the rooftop of the building. Most of the people out there just wanting to get a bit of fresh air or have a cigarette, but you went up solely to enjoy the view. You loved going up to the roof just to see the shining lights of the city that doesn’t sleep.

„So your stay here is coming to an end huh?“ Jeff was the one to interrupt your admiring, walking up to you, while you looked out to the lights. You nodded „yeah“ the word spat out sadly before taking another sip of your drink. „I never thought three weeks could be over with so quickly..“ his words carried a sad undertone. „Me neither..“ you acknowledged, „i think i did and saw more in those three weeks with you than ever before“ he chuckled at the true words. „yeah.. we experienced quite a lot of New York together“ he made sure to exaggerate with his accent, sight remaining locked on you.

When you finally looked up at him, you couldn’t help but tease „So.. Is the tough Wittek gonna miss me?“ you asked jokingly while running your hand through his wind tousled hair. „Of course i will.“ he admitted. „Haven’t had so much fun in a long time..“. A smile sneaked its way across your face „oh your gonna have fun again when you are reunited with your special lady.“ you rebutted, oblivious to how his smile faded a little. Of course he would have fun again he thought. But the girl he was seeing right now wasn’t you. She was funny, but her humour couldn’t compare to yours. She was beautiful but she didn’t have those cute little dimples, which only showed when you laughed aloud. She had a promising career in front of her, but she just wasn’t you. „I guess…“ he eventually replied, still deep in thought about the girl who couldn’t compare.

You took another sip of your drink and gazed away into the distance before finally glancing at the man who had your heart. „I think you- ..you have a little eyelash on your cheek“ Jeff said, abandoning his drink in favour of stepping a little closer and moving his hands up to your face.

One of them rested gently on your cheek, to give your head some balance as he titled it upwards, the other grazing right under your eye to get the fallen lash. His fingers lightly brushed over your skin, grasp so gentle on your face as if it was something precious. As if it could break if he put too much pressure on your little cheek. It was the very first time you really let yourself look him in the eyes tonight. Not that you haven’t looked into the brown pools before, but this time, in the light of the city, just inches away from your face, you really saw the artistic strokes of the different shades of brown melting together. You saw how the dark parts covered up the few light spots, saw his kindness and how much he truly cared about you, all by simply looking into his beautiful brown eyes.

His hand stayed on your cheek, despite the lash being long gone. You breathed out audibly, lost in the present moment. The scent of his cologne travelling up and into your nose in the proximity you two shared right now. „we should-..probably get back to the party…“ he whispers slowly, involuntarily glancing at your lips while his palm moved from its hold on your cheek to the back of your neck. „mhmm“ you could only hum lightly in response, feeling your heart starting to beat faster, slowly rising to your tippy toes. Your face is slowly inching closer to his & then you can feel his breath on your lips, eyes starting to close on their own accord, the two of you so close and right before your lips could touch - „Paarty time!“ one of Jeff's friend accidentally interrupts, tipsy shouting entering the rooftop. The two of you pull back immediately, not wanting him or anyone else to witness the kiss you almost shared. The friend walks obliviously towards Jeff. „man we thought you’ve left already!“ his word stuttered drunkenly. „No, I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye“ he chuckles away as if the moment you two just had never happened.

You had three more days in New York after that slip up before you finally left for Europe. Neither Jeff nor you mentioned the moment you two had together. After that night, and after you both finally sobered up, you convinced yourself that Jeff was too drunk to even remember what could have happened. His own thoughts were similar. Both of you far too scared to say something and ruin the time left. You were too embarrassed because Jeff had already started to date that girl he thought he liked, not to forget you were in a relationship with a boy you thought you were in love with . Both too cowardly to admit that there is indeed a spark there.

As your last day has come Jeff and his friend escorted you to the airport. „Man it will be so weird not having you around anymore y/n“ Jeffs friend said while driving through New York traffic. You looked out of the window in the backseat of the car. „I’m really gonna miss this..“ you stated, now slyly looking at Jeff, sitting in the passenger seat without returning your longing glances. In reality, what you would really miss..is him. You would miss his high pitched laugh, dark sense of humour and dry jokes, his warm and caring hugs and especially, his presence in your life. Not knowing if you would ever see him again or if you will ever come back to America again.

Jeff and his friend lead you to your gate, saying their goodbyes, promising to visit you in Italy someday, assuring that you’ll always be welcome if you decide to return. You hugged your new friend, who allowed you to stay in his apartment so graciously before looking up at Jeff. „Come here..“ he says, opening his arms for your embrace. Your arms wrapped around his waist, his head resting atop of yours. You breathed in heavily, trying to hold back the inevitable tears. He stroked your back in comfort „I’m really gonna miss you y/n/n..“ he conceded in a whisper. „me too..“ you admitted as well. „Promise me we will see each other again?“ Jeff asked, now looking down at you, while your own gaze travelled up to his eyes. You smiled sadly „I promise..“ you nodded with watery eyes. He hugged you again, saying your last goodbyes before you left to get your flight.

Jeff’s hair was slightly wet from the rain outside, a similar expression of shock on his face.„wow..uh, what?“ you let out, first to break the silence between you. „wow…“ he repeated dumbfounded. His hands were still resting holding onto your upper arms before he eventually raised them to his head in an act of disbelief. He shook his head, not sure if this was really happening right now, if it was really you in front of him. „I-„ you started again, but before you could keep talking he quickly forced you into a tight embrace.

His hands went back to your shoulders, still unsure if it was really you „This is insane..“ He muttered eventually, „it is..“ you confirmed. „How long has it been?“ Jeff was quick to ask while you still struggled to grasp the situation. „Almost 6 years..“ you uttered lightly.

„How’s Vince?“ he couldn’t help but ask with interest. „Oh...we uh, we broke up a while ago..“ you admitted, remembering your days in Italy. „oh I’m so sorry.“ the reply was sympathetic. „Yeah..how is Cierra?“ you asked in return, curious about the girl he started to see when you guys just met. Jeff glanced over into the living room, suddenly aware of all who were witnessing your reunion. „we also broke up a while ago..“. The information delivered with no emotions. You nodded lightly, unsure on how exactly to react or respond.

You checked your phone to look at what time it was, „I should probably go now..“ you mentioned, breaking the short moment of silence between you two. „Yeah..“ Jeff nodded, freeing your way to the exit. As made your very first step towards the door he stopped you by saying „Listen, before you go, can i get your num-“ before he could even end his sentence you interrupted „-just ask Natalie for it“ you informed him, „‚cause if you won’t, i’ll promise you that i will..“ you stepped closer to the door while teasing. „I’m not gonna lose touch with you again Wittek..“ you reveal and he chuckles.

Just when you were reaching for the front door again Jeff stopped you „y/n..“ you turn to look back at him, seeing that his stretched out hand held an umbrella „Here, take this..“ he demands softly „S’shitty weather out there..“ he adds with a little knowing smirk.

#the vlog squad #the vlog squad imagine #jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x y/n #jeff wittek x you #jeff wittek x reader #my post

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set-phasers-to-whump · 4 years ago

Text

can’t eat, can’t sleep, running on empty

hello!! i am back with bthb and kurt whump! this fic is set sometime after s1, kurt has gone back to work at the police. the title is from cheap beer and nicotine by littleDEATH. hope u enjoy!!!!

It is one in the morning, and Kurt Wallander is at work. He hasn’t moved in hours. His eyes are glued to a case file open on his computer screen. An almost-empty coffee mug sits beside his elbow. It’s been filled and emptied five or six times tonight already, its contents being the only thing Kurt has ingested for quite some time.

Kurt tears his eyes away from the screen for a moment and yawns. When he looks back at his file, he discovers that his eyes are refusing to focus on the words. He reaches for his coffee, drains the last of it, then slowly shuffles over to the coffee pot to pour himself a new cup.

This case is important, which is why he’s at work so late. It’s his first case since coming back to the police, the first case he’s been put on, rather than unwillingly shoved into. He has to do a good job, has to prove himself. Hence why he’s surviving on bad coffee and staying at work long past midnight, coming in (if he bothers to leave at all) by six every morning.

By the time he feels like he’s finished with the file for the night, it’s no longer night, but instead five in the morning. No point going home, he figures, getting up to put on a new pot of coffee.

With nothing else to do, Kurt sinks into his chair, thinking he can maybe catch a bit of sleep. But it’s no use. He’s too worked up from thinking about the case to sleep, or maybe just too caffeinated. Whatever the reason, his body refuses to rest, which he thinks is probably for the best. He doesn’t fancy having a nightmare in front of the night shift, and lately, it seems like nightmares are the only thing he gets when he closes his eyes. Just another reason to work late, he figures. You can’t have nightmares if you don’t sleep.

Kurt sits there, letting his thoughts wander about aimlessly, until he’s jolted back into reality by a tap on his shoulder. He startles and whips around, blinking as the action makes his head swim.

“Early start today?” Rask asks. Kurt nods.

“Nice initiative,” she tells him, then drops a stack of papers onto his desk. “We’re going to speak to witnesses after lunch today. Until then, paperwork.”

Kurt groans inwardly. He hates paperwork, especially lately. It takes up too much valuable focus, focus that could otherwise be directed towards solving this case. Not to mention the fact that his hands are shaking in a way that is definitely going to be noticeable in his handwriting.

He can’t just not do the paperwork, though. So he resigns himself to the task, pouring yet another cup of coffee, barely cognizant of the gnawing feeling of hunger in the pit of his stomach and the back of his throat.

Six hours later, Kurt has finally finished the paperwork. He would’ve finished it sooner, most likely, but his vision had kept going blurry, and no amount of coffee had been able to fix it. Plus, at some point, his thoughts had started to really wander, and he’d found himself incapable of making them stop. He’d think of Reza, finally moving up to Major Crimes next week. Then he’d think of Mona, currently in Stockholm with Gustav Munck for a charity event. Then he’d think of explosions and smoke and blood. Then he’d snap out of his thoughts and focus back on the paperwork in front of him. Then he’d think of Reza...

He is relieved when 12:30 rolls around and Rask comes up to his desk. She gives it a sharp tap, pulling Kurt out of another thought loop. “Are you ready to go?” she asks, though it’s not a question.

Kurt nods anyway, then stands, balancing himself for a moment against his desk when the world tilts slightly. He follows Rask out to the parking lot wordlessly, sinking gratefully into the passenger seat of the car.

Neither of them says a thing for several minutes. Kurt stares out the window, trying his best to keep his eyes open, ignoring the now more pronounced aching in his stomach and throat. He’s fine. He slept a few days ago, probably. He’s had plenty of coffee. He’s fine.

Rask finally breaks the silence when Kurt fails to stifle a yawn. “Are you alright? You seem a little...off.”

Kurt nods. “I’m fine,” he says, reflexively.

“Good. I need you focused and alert for this.”

Kurt nods again. This is a vital part of the case. He knows that. Without these witnesses, there’s little hope of catching their suspect. If they don’t catch their suspect, then he’ll have failed. Again. They have to catch the suspect. This is important. He can’t fuck it up.

“That was an incredibly important part of the investigation, and you completely fucked it up!”

Kurt winces. He knows. He hadn’t asked a single useful question. He hadn’t been able to answer the questions that the witnesses had asked him. He’d barely spoken at all, as a matter of fact. He just hadn’t been capable - words would enter his brain and then leave immediately, like water through a strainer. He hadn’t been able to focus on a single thought for long enough to formulate a sentence. And he’d been growing steadily more nauseous, so that even if he had managed to come up with something coherent to say, he wouldn’t have wanted to open his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing he can say. “I didn’t…” he trails off, eyes drifting closed for a second before he forces them back open.

Rask drives back to the police headquarters silently. Kurt doesn’t even have to look at her to know she’s fuming. He deserves it, he knows. He’d slipped. Badly. He just hopes she won’t kick him off the case, kick him out of Major Crimes. He’s put everything he’s got, and more that he really hasn’t got, into this. He needs it.

The second they’re back in the building, Rask is pulling him into her office and closing the door. She pushes him towards a small couch in the corner. “Sit,” she says, and Kurt complies, swallowing nervously. He has a feeling he’s about to get very harshly yelled at.

So he’s understandably surprised when, instead of towering over him and chewing his head off, Rask sits down next to him and asks, in the softest voice he’s ever heard her use, “when was the last time you slept?”

He very nearly starts crying right then and there. Not just because of the sheer concern that’s laced into her voice, but also because he really does not know. Maybe he’d fallen asleep for a few moments this morning. It’s possible he slept a couple days ago. He knows he slept at some point before Mona had gone to Stockholm eight days ago.

“I don’t know,” he confesses, feeling vaguely ashamed.

“You’re exhausted,” Rask supplies. “What else?”

Kurt shrugs. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s not okay. He stubbornly wipes a tear away from under his eye. He can still be fine.

Rask sighs from beside him, and Kurt thinks for a moment that she is going to leave. He can’t decide whether or not he wants her to.

She doesn’t leave. Instead, she places a hand on his shoulder and asks, “when was the last time you ate?”

He thinks of the copious amounts of coffee he’s had over the past several days, and realizes he’s had little else. The thought makes him feel faintly sick, and he swallows harshly before saying, again, “I don’t know.”

Rask does leave then, and for a few moments Kurt sits alone on her couch, willing himself not to cry, to be fine, to get up and go back to his desk, back to work. But it’s no use. He can’t force his exhausted body to move an inch.

His eyes fly open as the door to the office opens and then closes, quietly. Rask is back, and she has things in her arms which his eyes are stubbornly refusing to focus on enough to figure out what they are. Something lumpy, he thinks. Something vaguely round, possibly.

She sits back down next to him and hands him one of the items she’s brought. He stares at it for a moment, trying futilely to think of what it might be.

“It’s a sandwich,” Rask supplies, pulling some of the paper away from it.

Kurt tries to hand it back. Some part of him recognizes the fact that he’s desperately hungry, but a larger part of him insists that he shouldn’t eat it. That he’s fine. Or, at any rate, too nauseous to eat anything.

“You need to eat something,” Rask insists. “You’re not going to feel any better until you do.”

Sensing that there’s little point in trying to argue, Kurt takes a small bite of the sandwich. It’s not very good, but the second he swallows it he’s taking another, more out of instinct than a true desire to keep eating.

Rask pulls the sandwich away from him when he’s eaten about half of it. “Slow down,” she tells him. “This is the first real food you’ve had in a while. Don’t overdo it.”

Kurt nods distractedly, finding himself thinking again of Mona, and sandwiches, and the rain, and the question when was the last time you ate? and his answer amounting again to much the same - that he wasn’t sure.

“Drink this,” Rask instructs him, pulling him back into the present. She’s holding out a bottle of water. Kurt accepts it, somewhat reluctantly, and drinks a small amount. It feels much nicer than coffee as it goes down his throat, and it doesn’t settle so heavily in his stomach. He drinks a little more.

Eventually, Rask gently pulls the bottle away from his hands and sets it aside. Her hand once again comes to rest on his shoulder, and he slowly turns his face to look at her.

“I told you not to destroy yourself,” she says. “I told you you were too young to have your world turn to shit.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says, because he can think of nothing else to say. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’m sorry.”

A tear slides down his cheek before he can stop it, and then another follows it, and then another. He tries to turn away, to hide himself, to cling desperately to the notion that he is okay, in some shape or form. But something deep within him, something still soft and hurting and aching to be held, stops him from shutting everything out. He looks helplessly at Rask instead, and for a second, a similar helpless look ghosts across her face, like she isn’t quite sure what to do, like she’s broken too, but then it goes away and she pulls him close to her and holds on.

It should be weird. It should be really fucking weird. Rask is his boss. She’s tough and talented and in charge of him and she is holding him and he is crying. He should be embarrassed, uncomfortable, pulling away. But she’s holding onto him and saying something about this kind of thing happening to basically everyone in this job, and her shoulder is really soft, and the couch is surprisingly nice, and he finds that all he really wants to do is stay.

Rask, for her part, doesn’t pull away. She lets him cry for an indefinite amount of time - he can’t be sure how long. All he knows is that, eventually, the tears stop rolling down his face, and he feels the familiar wave of exhaustion roll back over him. God, he’s tired.

As though she’s a mind reader, Rask says, “why don’t you try to get some sleep, Kurt. There’s not much left to do today, anyway.”

That sounds good, he decides, for once not thinking of nightmares. And before he can do any further thinking on the matter, his eyes are slipping closed. He feels himself sink into the couch, face pressed into the cushion. Someone removes his jacket and his shoes. A soft blanket is draped over him. And for the first time in several days, Kurt lets himself fall asleep.

aaaaa thanks sm for reading this!!!! im not sure if they might have been ooc but hopefully not! i hope u enjoyed and please let me know what you think!

#bad things happen bingo #young wallander #kurt wallander #worked themselves to exhaustion #exhausted #hunger #emotional whump #crying #this made me feel some type of way to write lmao #also in very exciting news as of yesterday i've been accepted to 2 colleges and both have offered me pretty big scholarships im excited!!#plus i am getting a car hopefully tomorrow!!#anyway that is all from me hope you are having a great night or whatever time of day you are having!#i say things #my writing

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mvneyshot · 4 years ago

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𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆

[ simay barlas . 20 . female . she/her ] just saw 𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 dragging their suitcase up the steps to 𝐁𝐀𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐑 . good luck living with 𝐇𝐄𝐑 , i hear that that they’re 𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 , 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄-𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 , 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄-𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 & 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐓 . makes sense the chose that house now , doesn’t it ? let’s hope this new living situation doesn’t affect their 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐑 year of 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 & 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 [ oliver . 22 . they/them . est ]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

sports run deep in your family. your grandfather, your father, your older brother : the triple threat of sports, each cutting their way through their own league ( the mlb, the nhl, and the nfl — RESPECTIVELY ). you were never as gifted as any of them athletically — good enough, smart enough, but nothing more than a decent athlete that could hold your own. no, instead you picked up a camera and this is how you fit in.

AESTHETICS: she is like the summer nights when the stars are far away and the fire is dying out, the sun’s warmth a comforting memory and all the potential of tomorrow ready to be spread out before you ( worn out timberland boots, pink lipstick, short and flowy dresses, fireflies in a jar, a denim jacket covered in patches, the heat of a sparkler against your fingers, do no harm but take no shit, coy smiles because you want something, the smell of balsam and pine needles )

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

— she was adopted when she was just under two years old from turkey when her parents decided they wanted a little girl, so the clearwaters have always felt like her family to her. she knew the greater part of growing up that she was adopted, it just never was an issue for her. recently, though, she has felt like she should reconnect with her native middle eastern heritage.

— the clearwaters are a triple threat in sports : her grandfather retired mlb player and coach, her father a retired prominent defenseman in the nhl and current dartmouth men’s hockey coach, and her older brother michael ( 26 and always mikey to her ) is making a splash in his third year in the nfl as a wide receiver. however, her parents made sure she and her brother had a ( fairly ) average “middle class” bringing up, though they had their fair share of money in the bank. didn’t have to struggle, really, but didn’t get everything she wanted either. had a summer job scooping ice cream for two years in high school.

— grew up in norwich, vt, real big on nature and hiking and all that jazz. she’s always down for an adventure and to go hiking.

— when she was ten she got one of those kid’s polaroid cameras ( u know the ones where the film is only a little bigger than a postage stamp ) and she was obsessed. she worked her way up through cameras over the years, having a natural eye for it.

— one of the first games she ever shot was one of her brother’s high school football games which sounds sweet but it was actually because she was so bored out of her mind and wanted something to do. needless to say, though, that was the start of it. some might say it was kind of inevitable she gravitated toward sports somehow — she was a clearwater at heart. since then she has gained a lot of knowledge and respect for all different kinds of sports.

— for college she was torn between dartmouth, nyu, and halston. she ultimately chose halston because it was somewhere new, though the elite photography program at nyu was hard to pass up.

— her freshman year ayla was at as many games she could physically get it every weekend, shooting and shooting and shooting, until eventually the office took notice of her. her sophomore year she split time between the men’s hockey and football teams ( and a few other games of other sports where she could grab them ). a couple of her photos have been used for the banners outside the football field and hockey arenas, one across the header of the football team’s website, and several in the yearbook, including a two page spread shot of roo carlson that she’s very proud of.

— PROFESSIONALLY, she has managed to shoot a few kings, dodgers, and lakers games as well. she’s held an internship with the la galaxy from the spring of her freshman year to early fall of her sophomore year. she then accepted an internship with bernstein associates, official photographers of the la kings, clippers, dodgers, and lakers, this past summer.

— she does a little freelance work as well ; mostly for friends or friends of friends, though she’s been considering lately trying to make her skills and business available in a more professional manner to begin building an image for when she graduates. she does do a lot of photographing for herself — a lot of candids ; she thinks they capture the true spirit of a person moreso than when they’re posing or prepared for a photo.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂

— just got a new camera + lens ( nikon D500 + fancy zoom lens ) last summer as an early birthday present to herself. she practically become one with it over the course of the summer and she’s rarely separate from it. that thing cost her so much money and is her baby okay.

— she hopes someday to be the team photographer for a professional team, hopefully in one of the “big four” ( mlb, nfl, nba, or nhl ), and she thinks her prospects are looking very good.

— she played field hockey and lacrosse through high school.

— ayla thinks she’s better at shooting people. part of what she loves about being a sports photographer is how active and unpredictable it is to shoot a game. she’s had to learn a lot to try to predict what she can. they say you make your own luck and for a sports photographer that is true. part of it is down to chance, but there are things you can learn about the game in order to increase your chances of being in the right place at the right time.

— very much a morning person. has never had a problem waking up in the morning. typically goes for a run at sunrise, and has showered, gotten ready for the day, and is at a local cafe shop editing photos / making graphics and drinking an iced mocha by 8. truly couldn’t be me…

— you can often find her watching practices, not just to practice shooting but to learn more about what makes each team and player tick in order to improve her ability to predict their tendencies ( which in turn makes her chances of getting a good photo go up ). she takes her craft very seriously.

— she has a policy of not sleeping with or dating players on the teams that she shoots — it’s called professionalism, boys !! she likes to be respected and somehow doesn’t think that sleeping with the players goes very far for her in that regard. that doesn’t mean the players don’t try, though...

— she has struggled a bit with people who think her opportunities have only arisen because of her family pedigree ( which some have gone so far to tell her they’re “not her family” — which, don’t even go there, lads... ), and that has made ayla work all that much harder to prove that she’d gotten where she has on her own merits.

— so desperately wants to be that girl with tons of cute aesthetic plants in her room but tragically plants always die in her care no matter what she does. probably has gotten one of those tiny tabletop sand zen gardens to make herself feel better tho she still keeps trying with plants. so far the only ones that have lived any length of time are the air plants. there is no hope.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

— she’s generally well liked, with a hint of sass and humor. she comes across as a bit of an air-head at times, but that’s part due to a persona she put on from a young age. she has an observant eye that drew to her photography in the first place and will often allow her to draw certain conclusions about people.

— ayla has a very down to earth outlook and approach to life, often taking things as they come. she’s adaptable to situations, but manages to usually stay to the original path she saw for herself.

— she’s well versed in all the sports she shoots, something that tends to surprise a lot of people, but how is she supposed to be good at her job if she isn’t ? if she gets bothered during games she typically shuts people down with wide eyes and some obscure bit of knowledge in her cute, raspy lil voice. dareisay… elle woods, what like it’s hard ? energy ?? she’s a hard worker, and strives for everything she posts or hands in to be perfect.

— a few of her downfalls include her narcissism and need to be liked. she looks to look and feel pretty, by her own standards, and is a queen of the self-timer and remote self photography : has two instas because of it – one for her sports photography and one that’s a “personal” and mostly just pictures of herself.

— her need to be liked is something she doesn’t even realize. she likes to be seen in a positive light and it can on occasion lead to her agreeing to do things she doesn’t really want to. at the same time this is constantly in conflict with her desire to be independent and be her own person.

— she also just believes that everyone just does like her because she is a likeable and very down to earth person — both of which are true for the most part, but reveals the blurring line she has between confidence and arrogance. she can be quite judgmental at times, especially towards those who are overly dramatic, but they’re confined more to just thoughts than any actual voiced words or actions. in a way, this feeds into a sense of her own self-arrogance.

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

— alya stands at 5′3″ with a slim but athletic build. she has a runner’s body, deceptively strong, lithe, and built for distance.

— warm brown eyes that look like they’re laughing more often than not.

— her hair is naturally brown, but is dyed to have blonde highlights near the bottom. often styled half up & half down, kept down and loose, or in a messy bun.

— she does not need glasses or contacts and has no tattoos.

— piercings & jewelry: both lobes and cartilage. often wears simple black studs in all of them ; has an affinity for simple silver rings, often wearing two on each hand ; a black timex watch she bought for $20 at target that’s waterproof

— style : she’s almost always wearing the same pair of beat up timberland’s she’s owned since like sophomore year of high school. she likes to be able to move easily ( bc homegirl absolutely cannot walk in heels at all ). despite this, she also likes to look cute at the same time, often pairing them with short, flowy sundresses or skirts + crop tops. when she shoots games, however, she’s dressed rather practically in skinny jeans, a crop top, and a cardigan ( if necessary ).

— PINTEREST BOARD HERE

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

— pretty girl like you ( any ) : someone who does not understand why ayla is “wasting” her talents on sports and thinks she should try moving into the fashion or modeling business. i don’t think this is necessarily a negative connection — it could be well intentioned, or maybe it is truly just meant to be scathing.

— you & me were never meant to be ( any, female wld be real lit tho 👀 ) : an ex from her earlier years at halston. i imagine they broke up either before the summer of her sophomore year or early in her sophomore year. there’s not much ayla loves more than her photography, and i think maybe they didn’t understand. could have been mutual, could have ended poorly, could have just.... fizzled out. pretty open !! i’d just like her to have an ex.

— you just don’t get the message ( male ) : someone who is just relentlessly pursuing her ( not in an overly creepy way, y’know tho ). someone she’s told no multiple times and yet he still keeps trying rip. — TAKEN BY OWEN

— my brother, what ? ( any, probably female tho ) : just someone who is a big fan ( honestly fan or like... fan 😉, y’know ?? ) of her brother and she’s like please stop my poor ears don’t want to hear this.

— and i just love to vibe ppl !! ayla is a pretty friendly and outgoing person so... let’s just have at it :)

𝐎𝐎𝐂

hello friends. oliver/ollie back here again ( 22, est, they/them ). i also play caz !!

#halston.intro

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fanofvariousthings · 5 years ago

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Sweet Lips and Lies part 1

Mafia!Jungkook X Reader

BTS mafia au,, Jungkook x Reader featuring Taehyung x Jimin

Summary: This is the story of how you started dating the mobster, Jeon Jungkook, and how he turned out to be something you didn’t expect.

A/N: okay so originally this was supposed to be a one shot but I started writing and it got to be way too long so it’s now gonna be a mini series!! I watched Goodfellas (a 1990 film based on a young man growing up in the mob and working his way to the top of the ranks) and I felt really inspired so I had to write something based on the main character and his girlfriend

Your POV

Jeon Jungkook. The name that belonged to the anxious man sitting beside you in a booth at some fancy restaurant your best friend, Park Jimin has dragged you to. A man named Kim Taehyung had been pursuing your dear friend. You thought he seemed kind of sketchy and apparently Jimin did too, seeing as you were accompanying him on his date with Taehyung right now. Jimin had only agreed to go on a date with Taehyung as long as he could bring you and Taehyung brought one of his friends as your date so you wouldn’t get lonely. And that happened to be Jungkook. He was subconsciously bouncing his left leg underneath the table. He was waiting for something. He was in a rush to be somewhere else. You found him just as sketchy as Taehyung and you had a gut feeling that they were involved in... something bad. But that seemed to make you more intrigued.

[[MORE]]

Both of the seemingly powerful and mysterious men wore, what looked like, extremely expensive fitted suits and they both happened to be extremely attractive. You honestly couldn’t blame Jimin for giving into a face like Kim Taehyung’s. He was what you would imagine a god to look like. Kim Taehyung was ethereal. But looks can be deceiving. The devil was once an angel.

Jimin and Taehyung were on the opposite side of the booth looking like they were eye fucking each other. You rolled your eyes, Jimin’s such a horndog. Although you did worry for Jimin’s safety slightly, you were adult enough to make your own decisions about what you wanted in life and you knew Jimin was a literal sucker for rich and powerful men-

“Can we get the bill please?” Jungkooks deep voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You must have been wrapped up in your own thoughts the whole evening as your date barely interacted with you. You’d received a mere greeting from him telling you that it was nice to meet you and that you looked lovely as he placed a kiss on your hand. That led you to think this whole double date would go well. You were wrong. He seemed distant after that and he seemed like he didn’t want to be there, there was clearly something else on his mind. As Jimin and Taehyung were on their starters, Jungkook was already asking the waiters for yours and his main courses but now he just wanted to completely skip dessert as he asked for the bill when your main courses just arrived. He was so obviously in a rush to be somewhere else that it made you seem so disinterested in him, and the fact that he didn’t even bother to engage in a conversation with you and opted to only talk to Tae and Jimin made him seem rather obnoxious.

“Yah! Kook relax, pay attention to Y/N! We’ve barely even eaten and I think Jimin-ie here wants dessert,” Taehyung spoke up whilst sending a wink to your friend.

“You know I’ve got that thing to attend to.” Jungkook gave his friend a stern look.

“Alright, get lost.” Taehyung sighed in defeat.

Jungkook stood up from the table, dumping a handful of cash in the middle of it to put towards the bill. It was a shame really.

Jungkook was a very handsome 21 year old man. He was only a year older than you and he still had a slight baby face despite the strong muscles which were made very obvious through his shirt when he took his blazer off earlier in the evening. His jawline was beautifully carved and his dark doe-eyes were captivating as a few strands of messy, wavy hair almost covered them. You also couldn’t help but notice the tiny mole below his bottom lips, thinking it was cute.

Such a shame he seems like an asshole, you thought, well you can’t have it all.

Jungkook suddenly grabbed your hand pulling you with him. “Make sure she gets home safely please,” Jimin said goodbye and that he’ll text you later before leaning back into his dates arm who just waved goodbye to you.

“What are you doing?” You questioned your date as he opened his car door, pushing you inside. The leather interior was cold on your bare legs, your dress wasn’t doing much to help cover them.

“It’d be rude if I didn’t drop my date back at her house.” He slid into his seat, turning on the engine of the slick sports car.

You scoffed. Now he didn’t want to be rude? “That’s funny considering you ignored my existence for the whole night. You practically wasted my time.”

It was now his turn to scoff at you. “Excuse me, baby, but I have important business to attend to. You’re lucky that I even came tonight at all.” He sped down the lit-up neon streets of Seoul, trying to drop you home as quickly as possible.

You sighed, deciding to keep your mouth shut and not give him anymore of your attention for the rest of the ride. After a few minutes of watching the city go by through the window, you arrived outside your apartment building.

“Thanks,” your hand rested on the door handle about to leave when you noticed Jungkook sliding over the bonnet of his car, landing on your side of the car, to open your door for you. You stepped out of the car giving him a suspicious glance through your lashes. He placed a hand on your back urging you forward. “I can walk myself you know,” irritation was dripping in your voice. Why was he so rude and polite at the same time?

“Hurry up!” He still had his hand on your back rushing you into your apartment complex’s lobby, earning you a weird stare from the doorman.

Once you were inside he said “goodbye,” before pacing back to his car and speeding off again. Whatever, you stepped into the elevator going up to your appartment level when you got a text from Jimin.

Chimmy: Did you get home alright? If you did I hope you got a good dicking down from Mr Jungcock ;)

You: Yes I did thanks but EW JIMIN NO!!!!!!!!! Control yourself!!!!!!!! He barely showed any interest in me :/

Chimmy: I can’t promise anything as long as I’m around Tae ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and I know Jungcock seemed distracted but when you weren’t looking at him he was certainly looking at you heheheh

You: whatever Chim... you know he only spoke to you and Taehyung the whole night

You: I’m gonna have a bubble bath then go to bed but call me if u need anything

~ a few days later ~

BUZZ. BUZZ BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ BUZZ.

Buzzing was interrupting your Netflix and literal chill time after work. You lifted your phone up to see that Jimin was calling you and quickly slid your finger across the green answer call button. “Hey Chim,” you greeted as you pressed the phone up to your ear.

“Hi Y/N/N!”

“Everything okay? I haven’t seen you since the double date.” You sighed, remembering how... strange your date was.

“Yeah,” he giggled like a school girl who has a crush. “We saw each other again last night. I went back to his.”

“PARK JIMIN, YOU WHAT?!”

“Calm down Y/N... everything was safe,” another giggle escaped his lips. “Lots of protection don’t worry.”

“You need Jesus,” you breathed out. “Just be careful about what you’re getting yourself into Chim. Taehyung and Jungkook are obviously involved in something... illegal. Nobody around our age should have that much money and be flashy about it.” You looked around at your small 2 bedroom apartment which you and your roommate, Hoseok, managed to afford as you split the bills.

“I know. I should probably tell you now that Taehyung’s house is huge. Like 10 bedroom, 15 bathrooms and personal chef and maids-mansion huge. Everything in it looked so expensive and his whole wardrobe was basically a Gucci shop. That kind of money certainly doesn’t come from an average 9 to 5 office job...”

“Oh my God, are you sure that’s his house? It might be his parents. WAIT! What if he’s a drug lord or something?”

“Possibly. That’s kinda hot though.” Of course Jimin would say that. You’re honestly not surprised at this point. Jimin and his last boyfriend, Min Yoongi, were together when they were in high school. Yoongi was the classic bad boy. Skipping classes. Taking and selling drugs. Going to lots of parties. Seeing lots of girls. It was honestly pretty funny though. Everyone was very shocked to discover that Yoongi had a soft spot for Jimin and soon after they started dating. Yoongi became slightly more sensible after that... things ended between them on a good note. You all still keep in contact till this day. Yoongi now owns a record label company but you’re getting off topic...

“This is more serious than a bad boy teenage boyfriend. You’re smart, Chim. Be careful.”

“I know, Y/N. Anyway, I know you don’t think it’s a good idea to get dragged further into this but we’re going on a double date again. Tae thought it would be a good idea and he said that Jungkook will actually give you attention this time because he hasn’t got any prior commitments.”

“Hmmm I’m not sure... I don’t want to waste my time. I don’t think that he really cares. Oh and also -I’M NOT SURE IF I WANT TO DATE A GANGSTER-”

“Just one more chance, Y/N! Then you never have to see him again if you don’t want to.” Jimin pleaded in a singsong voice on the opposite side of the phone. He just wanted you to get back out into the dating world again since he knew it had been a while. He wanted someone to be by your side when he couldn’t be because of Taehyung. Besides, he knew you’d never admit it out loud to him but he could tell that you were physically attracted to Jeon Jungkook. A lot.

“Okay, Chimmy. Just for you.” You gave in.

“Yay! Fantastic! Same restaurant as last time at 8pm on Friday.”

“Okay, see you then.”

“Bye. Love you Y/N/N!”

“Love you too, Chim.” You hung up the phone before continuing to watch your tv show.

~Friday night~

You’d finished doing your hair and makeup and you slipped on a red silky, perfectly fitted dress with a pair of heels which made you feel good about your appearance. You’d wanted to dress up knowing that you’d be attending the same fancy restaurant again as you did last week. You saw the time on your phone, 7:30pm and decided now would be a good time to leave. You made your way down to the apartment buildings car park. Once you opened your car door and settled in behind the wheel you began to drive to your destination, zooming through dark roads in the city. Part of you was looking forward to seeing Jungkook again. Maybe he’ll be different this time. Maybe he’ll still be very confusing and conflicting. Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.

“Y/N!” You heard your name being called over to a private booth in the restaurant you just entered.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jimin smiled at you before pulling you into a hug.

“Thank you, so are you Chimmy!” You smiled back, glancing at your best friends new man beside him.

“I can agree with that,” Taehyung smirked. “Nice to see you, Y/N. How have you been?”

You and Taehyung made small talk for a while with Jimin as you all sat down. You all ordered drinks, of course you had non-alcoholic seeing as you were driving but your best friend on the other hand just downed a whole glass of wine. He’d always been like that. He was the ‘wild child’ out of the two of you. And this was one of the reasons why you were currently sitting with someone who’s involved with the biggest mafia in Seoul.

“So... where’s Jungkook?” Jimin asked Taehyung. It was as if he was reading your mind. Thank god he’s your best friend because he really speaks for you when you feel like you can’t.

“He said he’d be here,” Taehyung hummed.

One hour has passed. You’d had laughs and good conversation with your darling friend and his boyfriend but one whole hour had gone by and Jeon Jungkook still wasn’t at the restaurant for your double date. You’d been third wheeling the new couple for an hour and you couldn’t help but feel envious of the way Taehyung looked at your best friend. You could tell he really cared about him. They both cared for each other and you were glad that your Chimmy was happy and that he so clearly had Tae wrapped around his little pinkie finger as the suspected mobster was practically doing everything and anything for Jimin. But as happy as you were that the two men in front of you were happy, you couldn’t help but feel the anger rise within you as you realised that your date has stood you up. How dare he not show up without a notice or reasonable explanation. You can’t believe he didn’t even tell his own friend or wait-

“Where is he, Taehyung?” You stood up facing him.

“Who?”

“Jungkook. Who else would it be?”

“I don’t know. Sorry, Y/N.” The insincere apology and avoided eye contact told you otherwise. Surely, if he was involved with the mafia he could at least be good at lying.

You took a step closer to him which caused two men in black suits to appear out of nowhere, behind you. “Don’t bullshit me, Kim Taehyung. Tell me where he is right now.” You gritted your teeth.

Tae stood up, now towering over you and looked down at you with stone cold eyes. “Okay, Y/N. If you must know and if you must involve yourself in a part of his life he doesn’t want you involved in, go to him. He’s at a bar. Southside Parlour. Obviously in the southern part of the city.” Taehyung then waved you off.

You stumbled back in shock for a few seconds.

“You can’t send her there.” Jimin mumbled in an annoyed tone to his boyfriend who then sat down again. One of the men in a black suit started escorting you back to your car. He was obviously a part of whatever Kim Taehyung was so deeply involved with. You opened your car and sat in it for a few minutes, wondering what the hell you should do now.

Taehyung’s POV

“She needs to find out for herself, Jimin-ie.” I took his small, soft hand in mine before kissing it. This was my way of trying to calm him down, knowing where I just sent his best friend to.

Jungkook was attracted to Y/N, he told me himself that he thinks she’s possibly the most beautiful woman he’s ever met... physically and even her personality too. Intelligent, kind and strong. However, he doesn’t want her to get caught up in this whole mafia mess. He thinks she deserves better than that. And I thought the same about my Jimin too. Of course I want to keep him safe and protect him. Of course I don’t want to involve him in my line of work but it’s easier to protect those who you love if you’re with them than if you’re not...

A/N: ahhhhh so here’s the first part I hope y’all liked it,, there’s more Jungkook in the next part I promise!!!!!

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fathersonholygore · 6 years ago

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AMC’s Better Call Saul Season 4, Episode 5: “Quite a Ride” Directed by Michael Morris Written by Ann Cherkis

* For a recap & review of the previous episode, “Talk” – click here * For a recap & review of the next episode, “Piñata” – click here We see papers being shredded, one after another. Saul Goodman a.k.a Jimmy McGill (Bob Odenkirk) is searching the roof to his office while Francesca keeps shredding. This is in the Breaking Bad timeline. He’s gathering up all the stashed money, even cutting a hole in the wall to get some out. These are the end times, when things were finally falling apart. “Quite a ride,” he remarks to his secretary before she leaves with hush money and bags of shredded files. Once she’s gone, Saul makes the same call to disappear as Walter White did in Season 5 of Breaking Bad. He’s about to get a whole new identity Jump back to before those days, when Jimmy was still working at CC Mobile. He’s catering to a specific clientele, advertising to those with a “cash–based business” who might want to keep the government at bay. He gets a man in wondering about privacy. Before they even get talking, Jimmy cracks a burner cell in half and tosses it out, like a visual pitch— something we saw him do in the opening scene, in the future, for legitimate legal reasons. The irony of Better Call Saul is perfect. Anyway, it looks as if Jimmy’s beginning to figure out exactly to whom he should be selling his services. Only a matter of time before he decides his legal services ought to be geared in the same direction full time. At an airport, a man locates a car, finding its key in a magnetic case in the wheel well. He opens the car, finding a cell phone. It rings automatically. O the other end of the line is Mike Ehrmantraut (Jonathan Banks), who gives a hearty “Welcome to the U.S.A.” then advises the man of his further instructions, including highway directions. He goes to a mile marker on the road elsewhere. Mike tells him to get a hood from the trunk and put it on. The man does as he’s told, wearing the hood and waiting with his luggage at the roadside. In moments, Mike arrives with a van and some help, taking the man with them. When they arrive at their destination, Mike removes the man’s hood and they’re in an industrial building. This is a laundromat— yes, that laundromat. The man’s examining the place with a sensor and a computer, checking specifications. He gives a quote of about 6-7 months. They’re talking about the lab being built underneath the building. They’ve gone to great lengths ensuring secrecy, obviously. Love how we’re always privy to the methods, in both this series and Breaking Bad, used by Gus (Giancarlo Esposito) and others in the drug business when they’re doing this type of stuff. In court, Kim (Rhea Seehorn) is back taking on clients and looking after a young man’s criminal case. She whittles out a deal for him, believing probation is better than jail. She plays hardball to get exactly what she wants out of the opposing lawyer. Not that her client’s particularly grateful. This is why she’s a good lawyer, she does an often thankless job. Jimmy rushes off to work in the middle of the night. He’s printing out receipts, popping cash in the till, then leaving with a bunch of burner phones. What exactly is he planning on doing here? He’s off driving around the city looking to sell his burners to those who need them, further carving out a niche in clientele. He dresses like an ’80s drug dealer in a track suit, then goes looking around locations recognisable from Breaking Bad, where drug dealers, drug users, and others hang out. This could always serve as a good way to introduce Jesse Pinkman (Aaron Paul), should the series get to a point where it wants to crossover directly with its events into the original series. Either way, this montage scene is maybe one of the top five sequences of the series out of four seasons. Fantastic! All set to a killer tune by Randy Crawford, also used by Tarantino in my favourite of his work, Jackie Brown. Listen here. Although things get slightly tougher when it comes to the bikers. Jimmy tries chatting up their club’s boss, a big, scary dude. He gives them their speech about how the “man‘s always listening on those land lines” in prison, which makes it difficult for bikers, who’ve got lots of people behind bars. Our man’s got the gift of gab, because he walks away having sold all his merchandise. That’s when a few dudes stick him up for his money, beating the shit out of him. All that hard work for nothing— a real taste of the criminal life for an amateur such as himself. When Kim wakes she discovers Jimmy in the bathroom nursing his wounds. Awkward. He claims it was a mugging. Other than wounded ego and pride, he’s not actually hurt too bad. Few scratches. He laments not being like he used to, when he was a guy people knew not to mess with, or some other such masculine shit. He’s trying to save face for something that didn’t happen. What really happened was his naivety got him in the “wrong place at the wrong time.” He goes back to work, stripping the windows of his privacy advertisement feeling defeated.

Kim has a client in trouble for drugs. The girl, Denise, doesn’t want to go to jail, so she doesn’t show up to court. Kim manages to get another date and she talks her client into going after all. Then she gets a call about paperwork problems, which she puts off for Denise. Later, at Mesa Verde, Kim gets an earful about it. Not good. Again, Mike takes someone out to the laundromat. This man has a look around. No fancy lasers or computers like the last guy, just a simple notepad. He has a peek at the spot where they want to carve a hole for the lab, measuring the space and figuring out how to conceal the lab’s space below, too. He explains the need to support the “existing structure” to avoid a cave in during excavation. The whole thing will be a difficult process, not to mention getting all that dirt out of there in “complete secrecy,” as well as the blasting required. This engineer can do the work, he’s just worried about the problems. At this point, Gus comes in to secure the deal, not caring about price. In a bathroom, Jimmy runs into Howard Hamlin (Patrick Fabian), who’s got insomnia at the moment and doesn’t look well. Howard won’t say anything else, though clearly he’s experiencing issues. It’s a weird encounter. It’s also where we see Jimmy’s better at giving advice to others than he is at running his own life. He can see the problems with others, he can’t seem to see his own, at least not with full clarity. He goes to check in with parole. He has less than a year before he can get back to being a lawyer again. He’s got big ideas about what’ll happen. But with recent events, and what we know of his future, soon the slide into full criminality will occur. It’s only a matter of time. This is a fantastic episode, where we get to see bits and pieces of the future weaving into the fabric of Better Call Saul. We know where it’s all headed, so the way the writers are able to keep us guessing and interested is downright incredible. “Piñata” is up next time.

Better Call Saul – Season 4, Episode 5: “Quite a Ride” AMC's Better Call Saul Season 4, Episode 5: "Quite a Ride" Directed by Michael Morris…

#Breaking Bad #Criminal #Drug Dealer #Meth Lab #Randy Crawford #Saul Goodman

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puff0202 · 6 years ago

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could u talk a bit about ur modelling experiences in china? that'd be super inchresting

basically i went there on a 4 month contract, i was supposed to spend 2 months in shanghai and 2 months in hangzhou. shanghai is a really cool city, it was very accessible to me as a westerner which made it pretty easy for me. i found the hygiene standards in china to be way too jarring, i never got used to grown men shitting in the middle of the sidewalk in busy streets.

i was doing castings basically every day from 9 am to 6 or 7 pm, and it would just be me and a bunch of other models (some from america, some from canada, some from australia, some from brazil, most from russia and poland and belarus) all piled into a van or a bus depending on how many of us were attending a casting and we would go with an assistant from the agency who would basically present us to the clients. we would all go into these offices and studios and stand in a line in heels holding our comp cards and they would basically choose from us who they wanted to book for the job, it’s pretty dehumanizing actually lol. i did castings for sephora, elle magazine, calvin klein, none of which i booked. most of the work in china is catalogue so the stuff i did book was like 12 hours of shooting racks and racks and racks and racks and racks of clothes. because theres sooooo much to get through you have to pose really really quickly, it’s pretty comical to watch, there’s a viral video i’ve seen of a guy posing on a shoot really fast and it’s so accurate. i couldn’t eat the food they provided for lunch most of the time, i’m just a picky eater so the shoots got really exhausting because i’d be hungry. my feet are size 8.5 which is much larger than they’re used to in china so most of the time i was wearing shoes that were way too small for me.

PR is a super huge there so models were not only let into clubs for free but paid to be there and given unlimited free drinks, at the time i didn’t really like to party as much as i do now so i only took advantage of this once and got absolutely hammered. the club i went to was on like the 40th story of some building in downtown shanghai and the view was mental mental chicken oriental, there were shark tanks and fancy strippers and a bougie ass bathroom. the promoter for the club wanted us to dance with some chinese business men so they bought us some super expensive champagne but my friend was way too drunk so i drank hers, i ended up being sent home in a cab lmfao. it was a super fun night tbh! i did another PR job at a music festival and i was followed into a private changeroom for the models by a guest at the festival and he molested me as i was changing so that was not quite as fun.

anyways so after about a month and a half in shanghai i realized that i really wasn’t getting much work at all and i was frustrated because my booker was a giant dickhead, he was booking his other model jobs every day and i wasn’t making any money and he was basically a giant jackass for other reasons too, which i let my mother agent know about. he basically got called out by the manager of the agency after my mother agent let them know and he was like an even bigger bitch to me after that so we ended up finishing my shanghai contract early and i went to hangzhou.

once i was in hangzhou i worked a lot more but i became super depressed, none of the models there were english speaking like in shanghai so i didn’t make any friends and it was the most alone i have ever felt in my life. hangzhou was much less westernized and also harder to get around so i didn’t end up spending much time anywhere other than the area around my apartment. i basically became too depressed and i paid off what was left of my contract out of my own pocket and they let me go home a month early.

the contract basically works like this: they pay your flight for you to come to china, they pay the cost of your apartment and they pay the transportation fees for the bus/vans for castings. the agreement is they book you jobs and you work off the money you owe them and then once you’ve paid off your flight and everything you can start earning your own money. the problem is that the agency takes 30% of everything you make, and your mother agency takes a cut as well, so you have to work that extra mile just so you can pay off your expenses before you can start earning money. this is how the agency makes their money, by hiking up the price of the rent so you have to work off more. some models work enough that they can leave with thousands of dollars in their pockets but it’s hard. i ended up making thousands as well but sadly didn’t get to see a cent because i never managed to pay off my debt. however i did get to go across the world for basically free which was an amazing opportunity i’m so grateful for

#holy shit this was long #Anonymous

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ucflibrary · 7 years ago

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Every October UCF celebrates Diversity Week. This year’s dates are October 16 – 20, and the theme is Transform and Inspire Inclusion. University-wide departments and groups champion the breadth and culture within the UCF community, and work to increase acceptance and inclusion for everyone at UCF and the surrounding communities.

One of the fantastic things about UCF is the wide range of cultures and ethnicities of our students, staff, and faculty. We come from all over. We’re just as proud of where we are from as we are of where we are now.

For information about the Library Diversity Week activities visit: guides.ucf.edu/diversityweek

Join the UCF Libraries as we celebrate diverse voices and subjects with these suggestions (below the keep reading link)

And thank you to every Knight who works to help others feel accepted and included at UCF!

Blindspot: hidden biases of good people by Mahzarin R. Banaji and Anthony G. Greenwald In this accessible and groundbreaking look at the science of prejudice, Banaji and Greenwald show that prejudice and unconscious biases toward others are a fundamental part of the human psyche. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Creating a World that Works for All by Sharif Abdullah (ebook) The world is a mess. The privileged few prosper. The masses suffer. And everyone feels spiritually empty. Most people would blame capitalism, racism, or some other "ism". But according to Sharif M. Abdullah, the problem is not ideology. It's exclusivity -- our desire to stay separate from other people. In Creating a World That Works for All, Abdullah takes a look at the mess we live in -- and presents a way out. To restore balance to the earth and build community, he says, people must stop blaming others, embrace inclusivity, and become "menders". He outlines three simple tests -- for "enoughness", exchangeability, and common benefit -- to guide people as they transform themselves and the world. Suggested by Schuyler Kirby, Rosen Library

Digital Countercultures and The Struggle for Community by Jessa Lingel Whether by accidental keystroke or deliberate tinkering, technology is often used in ways that are unintended and unimagined by its designers and inventors. Jessa Lingel tells stories from the margins of countercultural communities that have made the Internet meet their needs, subverting established norms of how digital technologies should be used. She examines a social media platform (developed long before Facebook) for body modification enthusiasts, with early web experiments in blogging, community, wikis, online dating, and podcasts; a network of communication technologies (both analog and digital) developed by a local community of punk rockers to manage information about underground shows; and the use of Facebook and Instagram for both promotional and community purposes by Brooklyn drag queens. By examining online life in terms of countercultural communities, Lingel argues that looking at outsider experiences helps us to imagine new uses and possibilities for the tools and platforms we use in everyday life. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Dreamland Burning by Jennifer Latham When Rowan Chase finds a skeleton on her family's property, she has no idea that investigating the brutal century-old murder will lead to a summer of painful discoveries about the past... and the present. Nearly one hundred years earlier, in 1821, a misguided violent encounter propels Will Tillman into a racial firestorm. In a country rife with violence against blacks and a hometown segregated by Jim Crow, Will must make hard choices on a painful journey towards self discovery and face his inner demons in order to do what's right the night Tulsa burns. Suggested by Christina Wray, Digital Learning & Engagement Librarian

Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire Children have always disappeared from Eleanor West's Home for Wayward Children under the right conditions; slipping through the shadows under a bed or at the back of a wardrobe, tumbling down rabbit holes and into old wells, and emerging somewhere ... else. But magical lands have little need for used-up miracle children. Nancy tumbled once, but now she's back. The things she's experienced ... they change a person. The children under Miss West's care understand all too well. And each of them is seeking a way back to their own fantasy world. But Nancy's arrival marks a change at the Home. There's a darkness just around each corner, and when tragedy strikes, it's up to Nancy and her new-found schoolmates to get to the heart of the matter. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Furiously Happy: a funny book about horrible things by Jenny Lawson Jenny Lawson is beloved around the world for her inimitable humor and honesty, and in Furiously Happy, she is at her snort-inducing funniest. This is a book about embracing everything that makes us who we are - the beautiful and the flawed - and then using it to find joy in fantastic and outrageous ways. Because as Jenny's mom says, "Maybe 'crazy' isn't so bad after all." Sometimes crazy is just right. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Gender Nonconformity and the Law by Kimberly A. Yuracko When the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was passed, its primary target was the outright exclusion of women from particular jobs. Over time, the Act's scope of protection has expanded to prevent not only discrimination based on sex but also discrimination based on expression of gender identity. Kimberly Yuracko uses specific court decisions to identify the varied principles that underlie this expansion. Filling a significant gap in law literature, this timely book clarifies an issue of increasing concern to scholars interested in gender issues and the law. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Made by Raffi by Craig Pomranz; illustrated by Margaret Chamberlain As a shy boy, Raffi is a loner and teased at school until one day he discovers knitting and decides to make a scarf for his father and a cape for the prince in the school play. Suggested by Cindy Dancel, Research & Information Services

Symptoms of Being Human by Jeff Garvin A gender-fluid teenager who struggles with identity creates a blog on the topic that goes viral, and faces ridicule at the hands of fellow students. Suggested by Cindy Dancel, Research & Information Services

The Good People by Hannah Kent (on order) Based on true events in nineteenth century Ireland, Hannah Kent's startling new novel tells the story of three women, drawn together to rescue child from a superstitious community. Nora, bereft after the death of her husband, finds herself alone and caring for her grandson Micheál, who can neither speak nor walk. A handmaid, Mary, arrives to help Nóra just as rumours begin to spread that Micheál is a changeling child who is bringing bad luck to the valley. Determined to banish evil, Nora and Mary enlist the help of Nance, an elderly wanderer who understands the magic of the old ways. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

The Bone People: a novel by Keri Hulme Kerewin, a part-Maori painter living in self-exile, is drawn out of her isolation by a mute boy who is cast up on a beach, the only survivor of a shipwreck. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas Sixteen-year-old Starr Carter moves between two worlds: the poor neighborhood where she lives and the fancy suburban prep school she attends. The uneasy balance between these worlds is shattered when Starr witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend Khalil at the hands of a police officer. Khalil was unarmed. Soon afterward, his death is a national headline. Some are calling him a thug, maybe even a drug dealer and a gangbanger. Protesters are taking to the streets in Khalil's name. Some cops and the local drug lord try to intimidate Starr and her family. What everyone wants to know is: what really went down that night? And the only person alive who can answer that is Starr. But what Starr does or does not say could upend her community. It could also endanger her life. Suggested by Andrew Hackler, Circulation

The Inclusion Breakthrough: unleashing the real power of diversity by Frederick A. Miller & Judith H. Katz The Inclusion Breakthrough cuts a path through this potential minefield, offering a proven methodology for strategic organizational change, including models for diagnosing, planning, and implementing inclusion-focused, culture-change strategies tailored to each organization's individual needs. It also describes the key competencies for leading and sustaining a culture of inclusion. Offering real-world results of ''before and after'' surveys, including anecdotal and statistical reports of organizational change achieved using the methodologies described, Suggested by Sandy Avila, Subject Librarian

The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf by Ambelin Kwaymullina Taking refuge among other teens who are in hiding from a government threatened by their supernatural powers, Ashala covertly practices her abilities only to be captured and interrogated for information about the location of her friends. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness What if you aren't the Chosen One? The one who's supposed to fight the zombies, or the soul-eating ghosts, or whatever the heck this new thing is, with the blue lights and the death? What if you're like Mikey? Who just wants to graduate and go to prom and maybe finally work up the courage to ask Henna out before someone goes and blows up the high school. Again. Because sometimes there are problems bigger than this week's end of the world, and sometimes you just have to find the extraordinary in your ordinary life. Even if your best friend is worshiped by mountain lions. Suggested by Christina Wray, Digital Learning & Engagement Librarian

What if?: short stories to spark diversity dialogue by Steve L. Robbins Hiring and retaining the best and brightest talent is what defines market leadership today. And in the global marketplace winning the war for talent means embracing differences, discovering other worldviews, and reframing our organizations for competitive advantage. What If? delivers a creative and innovative way to explore the issues that dominate today's multicultural workplace: leadership and mentoring, creativity and innovation, organizational culture and engagement. In 25 inspiring stories-some deeply personal-Steve Robbins offers fresh insight into the real and meaningful differences among people and how the power of everyday experiences can be the catalyst for seeing the world through a different lens. What If? also presents specific ideas of what organizations can do toengage our global world, build core competencies in diversity and inclusion, and benefit from the best talent available - regardless of age, gender, ethnicity, religion, race, or disability. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Subject Librarian

What We Left Behind by Robin Talley From the critically acclaimed author of Lies We Tell Ourselves comes an emotional, empowering story of what happens when love may not be enough to conquer all. Toni and Gretchen are the couple everyone envied in high school. They've been together forever. They never fight. They’re deeply, hopelessly in love. When they separate for their first year at college—Toni to Harvard and Gretchen to NYU—they’re sure they’ll be fine. Where other long-distance relationships have fallen apart, theirs is bound to stay rock-solid. The reality of being apart, though, is very different than they expected. Toni, who identifies as genderqueer, meets a group of transgender upperclassmen and immediately finds a sense of belonging that has always been missing, but Gretchen struggles to remember who she is outside their relationship. Suggested by Cindy Dancel, Research & Information Services

Whistling Vivaldi: and other clues to how stereotypes affect us by Claude M. Steele In this work, the author, a social psychologist, addresses one of the most perplexing social issues of our time: the trend of minority underperformance in higher education. With strong evidence showing that the problem involves more than weaker skills, he explores other explanations. Here he presents an insider's look at his research and details his groundbreaking findings on stereotypes and identity, findings that will deeply alter the way we think about ourselves, our abilities, and our relationships with each other. What he discovers is that this experience of "stereotype threat" can profoundly affect our functioning: undermining our performance, causing emotional and physiological reactions, and affecting our career and relationship choices. But because these threats, though little recognized, are near-daily and life-shaping for all of us, the shared experience of them can help bring Americans closer together. In a time of renewed discourse about race and class, this work offers insight into how we form our sense of self, and lays out a plan that will both reduce the negative effects of "stereotype threat" and begin reshaping American identities Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Women and Leadership: transforming visions and diverse voices edited by Jean Lau Chin Over the past thirty years the number of women assuming leadership roles has grown dramatically. This original and important book identifies the challenges faced by women in positions of leadership, and discusses the intersection between theories of leadership and feminism. Suggested by Megan Haught, Teaching & Engagement/Research & Information Services

You're Welcome, Universe by Whitney Gardner When Julia finds a slur about her best friend scrawled across the back of the Kingston School for the Deaf, she covers it up with a beautiful (albeit illegal) graffiti mural. Her supposed best friend snitches, the principal expels her, and her two mothers set Julia up with a one-way ticket to a "mainstream" school in the suburbs, where she's treated like an outcast as the only deaf student. The last thing she has left is her art, and not even Banksy himself could convince her to give that up. Out in the 'burbs, Julia paints anywhere she can, eager to claim some turf of her own. But Julia soon learns that she might not be the only vandal in town. Someone is adding to her tags, making them better, showing offand showing Julia up in the process. She expected her art might get painted over by cops. But she never imagined getting dragged into a full-blown graffiti war. Suggested by Emma Gisclair, Curriculum Materials Center

#ucf libraries bookshelf #ucf library #featured bookshelf #diverse voices #representation matters

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thecookiegawd · 7 years ago

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funny

wrote this piece the day before a show i had at r coffee house, & read it live for the first time that night. this was written to perform, in case u want to imagine that u were there.

who here has ever heard of a gentleman named kain carter? well, long story short (or maybe short story long), he's a pretty popular youtuber, mostly known for making satirical videos based on life & relationships. recently though, he's been absent from the internet due to things happening in his personal life. he just released a video the other day where he talks about how he was coming out of a gas station, & a guy recognized him & asked where all the funny videos were. his response, prompted this piece.

his response was "...shit just ain't funny to me no more". now that's interesting, because what lewel of rock bottom do u have to be at to not find ANYTHING funny?

i can sit here & talk to u about a bunch of things that are funny.

seeing someone trip but not completely fall & bust their ass is funny. that "charlie bit my finger" video is kinda funny.

seeing someone talking on the phone, searching the room for their cell phone & even going as far as to call their cell phone to find their cell phone is funny.

dave chappelle...hilarious.

some people say life is funny. but life is only funny in that weird way.

you know when your manager tells you that you're getting written up because you didn't do something that you clearly did, but you feel like they're out to get you so they just make up shit, so when they turn the corner to go back into their office you just silently slide them the middle finger?

funny.

when you gotta be to a very important meeting in like 30 minutes but you HAD to get your eyeliner JUST right because let's face it- how you supposed to nail that presentation if your face isn't put on the correct way- & now you have 15 minutes so you rush out to your car & you turn the key & you hear that AMAZING sound of your car saying "FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCK YOOOOOOUUUUUUUU"?

funny.

that time when the person u were in love w/ out of the blue starts treating u different, & one day u find out that they've found someone else via a post on their instagram w/ the caption, "i've got me good one, so why not smile"?

funny.

so why didn't we laugh?

i know why we didn't laugh.

because humor is about timing.

& time...

time's time.

time can be 1 second or 300 years.

idk about you but i ain't tryna wait 300 years for no punchline.

so when is shit funny?

shit's funny when that manager that was out to get you gets demoted because the big bosses find out that they're not doing their job the correct way, & then they make u the new manager so now u get to tell THEM what to do.

funny is when just at the time that ur car is cussin u out a friend rolls by & asks if u need a ride, so u make it to that meeting just in time, u kill that presentation, & all throughout ur eyeliner looks flawless.

funny is when u see ur now ex-significant-other going thru relationship problems w/ the person they left u for & now ur in a flourishing, healthy marriage, w/ a kid on the way.

& u just bought a big ass house w/ mad rooms & a swimming pool.

in a documentary he put out, he told a story:

the short version is that when he was 11 his home life was a mess; his mother married a man who abused him & made every day a struggle. he received news from his biological father that he was gonna get him a baby sister, & from that day on he made the decision that he would never cry again because he had to be strong for her. on the day she was born he got that call...& there was silence on the other end of the phone. she didn't make it. he attended an elementary school across the street, & despite how close to home it was he says that walk home from school the next day felt like a mile. he looks & sees that the car is gone, so no one's home. his stepfather, who was in the military, taught him how to clean, break down & put back together a shotgun that was stashed in his mother's room. he goes in, grabs the shotgun, takes his shoe off so that his tiny legs can reach the trigger, & pulls it. CLICK. the gun jammed. now, over a decade later, he walks around w/ the bullet he loaded that shotgun w/ in his pocket, not for sentimental reasons, but because every once in a while he looks at it & thinks to himself, "hey...remember when u fucked suicide up?"

u see? that's funny...

right now at this very moment, i'm 24 years old, jobless, damn near homeless, i can't honestly tell u where my next meal is coming from, i wake up every morning & wonder how i'm going to make it thru the day, & all i have the energy to do anymore is rap.

i wanna travel the world rapping to people whether it be a crowd of 200 people or 20, taking goofy pictures of people who tell me that that one thing i said in that one song helped them thru their day.

i wanna make art my profession.

& as i sit here in a room filled with artists, we all know that shit don't always go like that.

u have this person that u have to work for, or this person whom u have to take care of, or this person that u have to live life for right now because that's what's most important.

some of u, however, make art ur hobby.

u have a real passion- like maybe some fancy job that pays all ur bills but is ACTUALLY ur career & ACTUALLY what u wanna do for the rest of ur life, & in ur spare time u just make cool shit & show it to ur friends.

i just wanna let u know that i envy u.

because i literally am not good at anything else.

i can't build shit, i don't know how to lay concrete, i can't drive an 18-wheeler, i can't do graphic design, i don't have the patience for small children so i can't be a babysitter...

writing & rapping are literally the only two things in life that i'm good at.

& right now, life will not let me do just that.

so now i have people in my ear (as they normally are when ur jobless) telling me stupid shit like, "yeah i understand that this is ur passion but we have to be realistic".

lemme tell u something realistic.

i woke up this morning w/ a thousand raps in my head & i've spent the entire day playing catch up so i could bottle them up into the back end of a pencil long enough for me to write them down.

tomorrow when i get them written down i'll record them in my room on my $200 set up, mix & master it as a song, & post it on the internet.

& at some point, someone in the universe is gonna hear that song, relate to it, & it's gonna make them feel something.

that's realistic to me.

fuck what u think reality is.

reality to me is knowing that some day i'm going to wake up in a bed bigger than my house, turn over & kiss my beautiful wife whose body looks like it was designed by apple, run downstairs & cook my children some breakfast because yes...i will eventually learn how to cook.

i'm gonna make a phone call to a very important person & we're gonna talk about this huge tour i'm going on & how i just made so much money off of my last record that i can fund it on my own, & how kanye called me a genius.

then i'm gonna hop in some car that some rapper used in some rap video but that don't matter cuz i actually own my shit.

then i'm gonna go pick up all my friends & we're gonna go to some random place we used to always hang out at when we were broke & had nothing to do- like r coffee house, & we're gonna talk about how we're about to make the biggest move in all of our careers.

then we're going to sit & reminisce about how shit used to be.

how we used to share food off of a dinner plate.

how we used to have to walk across town just to make it to mcdonald's not to eat, but to use the wi-fi to apply for jobs so that we could make some money so that we could eat.

how we used to record 10 songs a day & how those were the good old days because we didn't have jobs so literally all we had time to do was watch House, eat pizza & create.

& i can't wait for that day...

i can't wait for all of this shit to be funny.

#funny #marrice anthony

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lolcat76 · 7 years ago

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MIGHT i suggest Kiss at Pine Lake: an executive is sent by her boss/boyfriend to buy out her old summer camp so they can build developments on the land, only the camp is now run by another former camper she had a thing with back in the day (but lost touch with due to Tragic Circumstances), who can't pay his bills but has no intention of selling? Is this not actually perfect?

I love you. It is indeedactually perfect. Thank you, @okaynextcrisis for the fabulous Hallmark prompt, and thank you @cassiopeiasara for the beta reading and great advice.

If Laura could have doneone thing differently in her life, it would have been keeping her seat next tothe weird nose-picker in her freshman English lit class at the University ofWashington. If she’d stuck it out next to him, she might have never met RichardAdar, and she might not be looking over a perfectly pristine 6 acres of landnext to Pine Lake, a large, ambitiously named pond that fed into Lake Chelan,trying to figure out how many trees the state of Washington would let thembulldoze to build the 340 condo units Adar Development so desperately wanted tobuild.

“Lotta trees,” the campmanager said.

No shit, Sherlock, she thought, but she kept her mouth shut. Alot of trees, indeed, trees with rope swings and obstacle courses, somewhatfrayed but still swinging in the late summer breeze. Trees that gave shelter toa small army of campers every summer, until Adar Development found the land andsent her to supervise the acquisition.

It wasn’t hard to findthe site, once she saw the map – it was the same route her parents drove fromBellevue to the lake every summer to drop off Laura and her sisters for a monthof forced childhood fun.

Forced for Laura, funfor Cheryl and Sandra. Somewhere in the attic of her parents’ house, there wasa box of macramé and ceramics, collected over eight years of summer camp atthis very spot. While she stood and surveyed the grounds, mentally making notesof the hills that would need to be graded and the water lines that would needto be laid in place, she saw herself ducking under a tree to read while she wassupposed to be learning to play tennis.

“Shame to bulldoze thetennis courts. Then again, tennis was never my game,” he said.

“Mine either.”

“So I hear.” With that,he turned and strolled down the path that used to lead to the boys’ cabins, butnow led to what would be the development’s fully appointed fitness center.

Treadmills and a yogastudio. That nose-picker in her Lit seminar went on to make probably a cool tenmillion at Amazon, and here she was, bulldozing her childhood so that peoplecould do downward dog where she learned to French braid her hair. Not for thefirst time, she cursed that empty seat next to Richard Adar. She switched seatsand wound up sitting next to him in English Lit, and he cheated off of her forthe next four years. Sixteen years after they graduated from college, she wasstill carrying him.

He was still cheating,and she was still helping him. This time, she was helping him cheat on hiswife. And his tax returns, she was pretty sure, but she couldn’t for the lifeof her figure out which of the two was worse.

Maybe she should havepicked her nose that first day in English Lit and followed the geek to Amazon. JudithRoslin would have been horrified, if she’d remembered who Laura was those lastfew weeks of Laura’s freshman year before she faded away. Her dad, the head ofthe Econ law department at U Dub, would have terrified Richard Adar right outof her life if he hadn’t taken a leave of absence to help care for his wife.

If, if, if. If a bullfrog had wings, he wouldn’t bumphis ass when he hopped.

God, Laura missed herfather.

If she could just getthe camp manager to sign for the latest offer and pass it along to the owner, shecould get the hell out of here and back to her condo in Belltown. She wantedthe offer settled so that she could go home before the dirt road they’d drivendown every summer in an old station wagon was paved to make way for fanciercars with better suspensions.

She followed the managerto the trailer housing the camp’s office, the closest thing to a modernbuilding on the site. The trailer sat between two old cabins, both facing thelake. The last summer she’d spent here, she’d been a counselor in one of them.She didn’t want to think about the counselor in the other, or what had happenedin that little clearing between the two cabins before some idiot had put atrailer there.

Maybe if she’d pickedher nose at that first fireside singalong that summer, she’d never have added BillyAdama to her list of regrets.

***

“I hear you come highlyrecommended by the owner,” she said.

Tigh grunted inresponse. “Hard to find jobs around here, or I’d hang your fancy condo-buildingass out to dry.”

Well, at least he washonest. “I’m not the one buying this land. I’m just here to do my job.”

“Shit job, if you askme.” He dug through the cabinets in the trailer until he found a bottle ofwhiskey and two reasonably clean glasses. He poured a good measure into eachglass – far more than she should be drinking if she had any intention ofdriving home tonight – but it was the closest thing to a friendly gesture she’dgotten from anyone in this pissant town. One thing was for sure, the locals didnot see the need for fancy condos intheir backyard.

She knocked the whiskeyback with more confidence than she felt. “It is a shit job, but it’s a job, andI hear they’re hard to come by these days.”

Glasses lined up, and afew more fingers of whiskey pushed in front of her. “Maybe you’re working for thewrong person. Ever consider that?” Saul’s glass hit the table in front of her,empty again, before she could even wrap her brain around what he said.

Of course she hadconsidered it. She considered it every damn day she showed up in her office,prepared to give Richard her thoughts on smart investments and where they stoodto make money in real estate, only to have him ask her what color underwear shewas wearing.

White cotton, andthreadbare at that, because she wasn’t going to tempt him with silk and lace ifhe wasn’t going to challenge her to do her job better. At this point, she wasfairly certain that her practical underwear would give out at the same time hischarm did; she only hoped she could escape his hold on her with her dignityintact.

Oh, and without going tojail.

Frankly, she wasn’t surejail was worse than her job. She’d just be trading one stifling cage foranother. She nudged her glass toward Saul. Maybe another shot of whiskey wouldhelp her figure it out. If she couldn’t drive home tonight, at least she knewwhere she could pass out; the bunk beds might be old, but the cheap mattresseswere surely holding up better than her underwear.

Saul tipped the bottleinto the empty glasses, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. Men. Drink them underthe table or give them a blow job; they were so damn easy to impress. She’d hadher quota of blow jobs this week, so she’d have to stick with drinking withhim. “Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought,” he said.

“Maybe I’m not,” sheagreed.

“Still don’t like you.”

She slammed the glassdown on the cheap pressboard table and held it up, a challenge, to see if he’draise his own to hers. He did. “Don’t like you either,” she said, beforechasing down the bitter, salty taste of years of regret with a mouthful ofcheap whiskey.

***

She wasn’t a snob, byany stretch of the imagination, but Laura did like to sleep in a comfortablebed. She’d paid a lot of money for her mattress, so waking with rusting coilspoking into her backside was hardly the goodmorning she expected.

Then again, neither wasthe pounding in her head nor the cotton in her mouth. She rolled off the limp,sagging mattress and kicked around at the pile of clothes at her feet. Wherethe hell were her shoes?

Where the hell was herpurse and her car keys, and why was she standing in the middle of a cabin shehadn’t seen for the last 20 years, her toes idly riding up her calf to scratchat bug bites?

Dammit, Saul Tigh! Ifthe contract for purchase of the land hadn’t included retaining existing camp staffuntil demolition began, she’d be at home right now, not kicking through dustbunnies to find her phone.

At least a quick surveyof the cabin assured her she was alone. Score one for Laura Roslin – she wasn’tgoing to add another notch in the cheap pine bunk bed frame to go with herfirst. But she was most definitely going to get fired, because she had apresentation to give about the progress at the construction site at 10 am, and,seriously, where the hell were her shoes?

Her phone rang, echoingthrough the cabin that had been filled with chatter and gossip years ago.Marcie should have been asleep in the bunk underneath her; Cheryl and Sandrashould have been sitting on her bed, waiting for her to wake up.

Instead, she wasstanding in the middle of an empty, musty room that was making her allergiesseize up, sneezing and wiping her nose as she answered the phone. “LauraRoslin.”

“You were supposed to behere ten minutes ago with your report.”

She forced back anapology for her tardiness. Richard had every right to be pissed, but herheadache and his snippy tone told her that Richard had even more right to gofuck himself. He sent her to the development site; he sure as hell didn’t getto choose what happened once she got there.

“Thereare…complications,” she said.

Richard hung up. Henever liked complications.

She didn’t either, butshe did like knowing where she could find her shoes. Finally, she dug them outfrom under a well-worn blanket. If she could just manage to button her blouse,she’d be out of here and on her way.

Just as soon as shetracked down Saul Tigh and got him to sign off on the damn offer.

***

Based on the yellingcoming from the construction trailer, Laura wasn’t the only one having a roughstart to the day. Tigh’s bellowing was loud enough to wake the dead, andwhoever he was arguing with didn’t seem to be holding back either. She halfexpected to see one of them to come crashing through the windows as she pickedher way through the weeds choking the path.

The last thing shewanted was to get in the middle of whatever battle was being fought, but sheneeded coffee and she needed to brush her teeth, and neither of those thingswere going to happen until she got a signature and got on the road back tocivilization. Squaring her shoulders, she reached up and pounded on the door tothe trailer.

Saul threw open thedoor, and Laura was annoyed to see that he didn’t even have the courtesy tolook hung over. “Oh. You’re still here.”

“Sorry to interrupt,”she said through clenched teeth, “but I still need someone to sign this.” Shethrust the folder at him. Rather than take it, he stepped back from the doorwayand waved her in to the trailer.

“Might as well get your signaturefrom the boss,” he said. She was tempted to remind him that, once the sale wentthrough, she was going to be theboss, but the smarter play seemed to be to keep her mouth shut and get a penready.

“Signature for what?”came a deep, gravelly voice from somewhere inside the trailer. She followedTigh inside, squinting against the dark of the trailer.

“Revised offer,” shesaid. She cupped her hands around her eyes to block the light from the doorway,barely able to make out the shape of a man at the far end of the room. “I needa signatory from the camp to receive the offer, or else it’ll have to go backto the lawyers.”

He let out a derisivegrunt. “Never had much use for lawyers.”

Laura bristled. Herfather had been a lawyer, a damn good one, and she wasn’t going to let thischump hiding out in the middle of nowhere crap all over his memory. “Lawyerscome in handy when you need to get things done, and I’d very much like to getthis offer done and accepted so that I can get out of here and get moving onthe development plans.”

“And a lawyer is gonnahelp you with that?” he asked. He moved forward, just enough into the lightthat she could see the glint of silver threaded through his black hair. Hereached out and snatched the folder from her hand, then leafed through thepapers. “It’s a good offer,” he grunted.

“It is,” she agreed, surprisingeven herself with the ice in her tone. “Better than any other this camp isgoing to get.”

He scribbled his name onthe first form, acknowledging receipt of the offer, and handed the paper backto her. “Maybe so,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sell.”

He’s going to sell? After all these months, the elusive owner of CampBlackbird had finally shown his face? It’sabout damn time, she thought. Richard was already pissed enough at her;maybe if she took a little extra time to work her feminine wiles on him, suchas they may be, she could get him to agree to the sale and she could get herboss off her back. In more ways than one.

“It’s a beautifulproperty,” she said, turning on her brightest smile. “People would love to buy acondo here and take advantage of the peace and quiet. I spent some time here asa child myself, and I have to tell you, I’ve thought of buying my own place hereonce the development goes up.”

“Really? I thought therewas a rule around these parts about you not being allowed back.” He finallystepped fully into the light of the doorway, and his blue eyes met hers. Blueeyes that she hadn’t seen since she was seventeen years old and flat on herback on the ground under this very spot. Suddenly, complicated wasn’t the wordfor this sale anymore. Impossibleseemed a little bit more accurate, and some other words with just four letterscrossed her mind as well. And then one more word – breathe. “Of course, since that’s half my fault, it’s probably onlyfair that I lift the ban on Laura Roslin.”

Jesus Christ, Billy Adama. Laura’s knees went a little weak underneathher.

“Saul,” Bill barked,“take a hike. Miss Roslin and I have business to discuss.”

Business? After allthese years, she had a lot of questions to ask him, but none of them had a damnthing to do with the offer he was still holding in his hands. Hands sheremembered far too well.

Saul raised an eyebrowat his boss, then looked back at Laura. “You gonna be ok?” he asked her, hisvoice a little gruff, but his expression softer than it had been last night.

“Fine,” she saidfaintly. “Thank you.”

“You know where thewhiskey is, if you need it,” he said, then ducked out of the trailer. It wasbarely 9am, her head was still pounding, but God help her, she’d never wanted adrink more in her life.

She had the receipt ofoffer in her hands; she should collect her dignity and get the hell out of herewhile she still could. Instead, she sank down into one of the beat-up vinylchairs in front of the reception desk. “So I get a lifetime ban, but you get tocome in and take over? Seems a little unfair to me.”

“I bought the camp usingan LLC. Mr. Cottle wouldn’t have sold it to me if he knew who was buying,” hesaid with a little chuckle.

Privately, Laura had herdoubts. As she recalled, Mr. Cottle wasn’t nearly as pissed at poor BillyAdama, led astray by Laura Roslin’s bookish charms, as he was at her fordefiling the sanctity of his precious camp. After all, it hadn’t been his entire family dragged down for avery detailed description of how he’d found the two of them bare-ass nakedunder a blanket, and then escorted to their station wagon with a very colorfulreminder that they were not invited back for the next summer.

Then again, she hadabsolutely no idea what happened after they’d left Camp Blackbird. Maybe Bill’sparents had been on their way when they’d headed down the dirt road, Cheryl andSandra whining on either side of her in the back seat and her parents refusingto speak to their oldest daughter.

It wasn’t like shehadn’t done the math; their anniversary was seven months before her birthday.Laura might not know much about children, but she knew that a preemie didn’tweigh 8 pounds at birth. It seemed more than a little unfair to her that theywere so pissed about her night under the stars.

She hadn’t regretted itat the time. He was handsome, and smart, and had a wicked sense of humor. He’dliked to make her laugh. She’d liked to laugh with him. They’d gone fromsneaking kisses behind her cabin to groping under swimsuits while they weresupposed to be teaching swim classes, to having sex under the stars. If onlythey’d snuck out half an hour earlier…

If only he’d called herafter she’d been sent home. He had her number; she waited to hear from him, butthe rest of the summer stretched out with no contact, and in the fall, she wasin her dorm at U Dub and sitting next to Richard Adar.

And 20 years later, shewas sitting in a cheap plastic chair, staring him down as he flipped throughthe pages of her company’s offer, every flip of a page catching the sunlightagainst the wedding ring on his finger. Ofcourse.

She was done withmarried men. Done with this one in particular, just as much of a pain in theass as the other married man who was expecting her to deliver a signed offerletter.

“I wasn’t kidding. Youand I both know this camp hasn’t been profitable for years. Just accept theoffer and call it a day.”

He held out the folderto her, waving it a little bit when she refused to take it. “It’s a greatoffer. But you’re wasting your time.”

“I quit wasting my timeabout 20 years ago,” she snapped.

He looked her over,those damn blue eyes drilling into her. “And yet here you are.”

“And so are you. Really,Billy? So many happy memories here for you?”

“Bill,” he snapped, “andyes, as a matter of fact.”

She let out a sharp snort.Lord only knew what he got up to after she was booted out of the camp. She hadabsolutely no interest in how many happymemories he had at this camp.

“I remember you, and me,and a night under the stars, and that’s enough to make me turn down youroffer.”

“Well,” she said primly,“Not all of us have such fond memories of losing our virginity.”

He blinked at that andtook a quick step back. For a second, she felt like a complete ass. It wasn’this fault the night ended badly. Well, not entirely– he was the one who suggested they meet halfway, and he was the one with theblanket. He was also the one who made enough noise to wake the dead…and Mr.Cottle.

But she was the one whomet him there, under the stars, and she was only too happy to let him tease herout of her shorts and her camp t-shirt, and she was the one who told him thatshe was ready, that she wanted it to be him.

Billy – no, Bill – sighed. “Ifthis is really what you want, I’ll sign,” he said.

Thank God. “It’s what I want.” She nodded at the pen on the table.“Sign it, and we can be out of each other’s hair.”

“On one condition,” he said. He picked up the pen and hovered it overthe paperwork. “I’ll sign, but you have to go on a date with me.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” The words were out of her mouthbefore she could stop them, but he didn’t seem the least put off by her crass words.

“Yep. Long time ago,” he said.

“Sign the papers and take your wife on a date,” she snapped.

His brows furrowed, a bit confused before he saw her pointed gazedirected at the ring on his finger.

“Divorced,” he said. “I wear the ring so Saul doesn’t hit on me.”

“He’d probably be an easier target than me,” she said.

“Easy never interested me.”

Well, he’d be the first. “Fine,” she said. “Sign the papers and I’ll goout with you.”

He signed the offer with a flourish, then held his hand out to her. “Isbreakfast too early for a date?”

Laura shrugged. “Whatever.” She’d eat some pancakes, tell him he wascharming, and then be on her way by noon. “Lead the way.”

***

Her phone rang once again, and one again, she was determined to ignoreit.

“You have to answer eventually,” he muttered, his voice thick withsleep, even as he pulled her closer to him.

He was probably right. Richard wasn’t going to stop calling, not untilhe got the answer he expected. She tucked her hair behind her ears, trying tocall up some sense of professionalism. Hard to do when she was stark naked andBill Adama was wrapping his arms against her waist.

“Roslin,” she barked, choking back a laugh as his fingers trailed upagainst her sides.

“It’s been four days and you haven’t shown up once. What the hell areyou doing?”

That was a very good question, but not one she was going to answer forRichard Adar when Bill Adama was pressing kisses to her shoulder. “I’mquitting,” she said. “Deal’s dead.”

“Goddammit, Laura, I didn’t send you down there to kill the deal!”

She was half tempted to argue, but Bill pulled the phone out of herhand. “I’ll talk to you about my severance tomorrow,” she called out before hemanaged to hit the disconnect button and throw the phone down on the flooramidst their discarded clothes.

“I’m going to get fired,” she said with a giggle. He hummed in response.“Do you care?”

“Nope.” He rolled onto his back, then tugged her on her side so that shewas draped against his chest. “Do you?”

“Mmm-mmm,” she hummed.

“Good,” he whispered.

“I’m out of a job, and you’ve got a camp that’s not making money,” shesaid. “How is that good?”

“Never wanted the camp. Just wanted you. Do you think Adar’s the onlyoffer I have?”

She snuggled a little bit closer to him. “I’m very good at real estate.I could probably get you a great price for the land.”

He laughed as he dug his fingers into the skin of her hip. “Whatever youwant. Don’t want the camp anymore, since my girl isn’t allowed on the grounds.”

“Well, Washington is a big state,” she chuckled. “I’m sure we can findother places to get kicked out of.”

“God, I hope so,” he laughed into the sensitive skin of her neck. “Can’t think of anything I want more than tobe kicked out of every campground we find.”

She shrieked with laughter as he moved down from her neck, teasing theticklish spots he’d discovered over the last few days. Neither could she.

#spaceparents fic #spaceparents au #lolcat fic #Laura Roslin #Bill Adama #BSG #okaynextcrisis

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ncmagroup · 6 years ago

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by Rob Wormley

You want employees who are excited to come to work and ready to contribute. Engaged employees are good employees, and they’re the type who make your job easy as a manager.

But it’s on you to create an environment that fosters employee engagement. Without strong leadership, employees won’t be willing to get super invested in their company or team. They look to you for cues. If you prioritize employee engagement and motivation, they will too.

Thankfully, there are a host of activities that can boost motivation and encourage ownership for various responsibilities. As long as you set aside time, resources, and budget to prioritize these activities, you’ll be well on your way to creating an environment that puts employees as its center.

What is Employee Engagement?

Many companies focus on employee engagement.

According to Forbes contributor Kevin Kruse, “employee engagement is the emotional commitment the employee has to the organization and its goals.”

Basically, employee engagement is how much your employees care about their work at your company. Are they invested, responsible, and excited about projects? Can they collaborate and do they respect one another? If so, you probably have healthy employee engagement already. If not, there are many things you can do to boost spirits and get employees more motivated.

Why Does Employee Engagement Matter?

If an employee can do their job, does it really matter if they’re engaged? Yes! Studies show that engaged employees are happier, more productive, and a lot more likely to stick around.

In 2012, Gallup conducted a very large study to see if high employee engagement really made a difference. Gallup found that businesses that had engaged employees were two times as likely to be successful as a business. Those who had the most engaged employees fared even better– they were four times as likely to be successful.

Additionally, the study found that high employee engagement resulted in greater attendance, fewer safety incidents, higher productivity and profitability, and lower turnover.

What Activities Engage Employees? A Comprehensive List

There are many ideas on how to engage employees, but one of the most prominent is to prioritize activities that put employees at the center.

Here’s our comprehensive list of employee engagement activities:

Parties

Most companies throw annual summer and winter parties to celebrate another year of business. Additional festivities like Halloween parties, Thanksgiving dinners, and other celebratory parties make people feel as though they’re a company’s priority. Two annual parties are enough, but make sure they count. For example, make sure to invite families, significant others, and spouses to these events. To save money, throw a party during the day, or barter with other businesses for their services.

Learning Lunches

Learning lunches are the perfect way to bring your team together and help them learn. Encourage different departments to share what they’re working on, recognize birthdays, and tackle a new topic as a team. Bitly hosts lunch and learns once per week because they build community, foster learning, and helps with transparency. Just make sure they’re short and sweet, not boring. No one wants to have a long lunch meeting. Keep these lunches light and fun!

Employee Games, Tournaments, and Competitions

Employees love getting involved in games, tournaments, and competitions– and they don’t have to be fancy. Consider hosting a ping-pong or pool tournament, or challenge the office to a bake-off. Even creating an office-wide fantasy football league can do wonders for the employees at your organization. Some offices hold 5K races and other sporting events as well.

Special Days

Special days such as “Bring your Dog to Work Day” change the pace and give employees something to look forward to. People Magazine even compiled the cutest photos from “Take Your Dog to Work Day.” Other ideas? Bring your child to work day, pajama day, or even a “no uniform” day can all engage and excite employees.

Training

Training has a reputation for being boring. That’s because…well…they often are! But if you’re able to bring in a special speaker for a truly interesting and invigorating training session, you’ll engage your employees and teach them something new.

Recognition Programs

Recognition programs are a great way to get employees to engage with each other. Zappos is famous for this type of strategy and has four ways that employees can reward each other. They have a “Zollars” program where employees can earn Zappos money, as well as a parking program that lets employees give each other the best spots in the company lot.

Sports Events

Sports events are a great time to bring your employees and their families together. Choose a local basketball, baseball, or soccer team, and invite everyone. If you’re tight on cash, consider a college or minor league game. If you have a marathon that goes through your city, host a party along the route with all your employees.

Team-building Activities

Team-building activities, especially those outside of the office, are something that employees love. Laser tag, go-cart racing, and bowling are all options, as are brewery and winery tours. These types of activities will facilitate bonding outside of the workspace, and give employees common ground.

Bar Nights

Many workplaces hold bar nights per week at a local watering hole to offer employees the opportunity to blow off some steam. Just make sure you have offerings outside of alcohol-related events, as they can be exclusive to those who don’t drink. Bar nights should be a supplement to other employee engagement activities.

Fundraisers and Charity Days

Fundraisers and charity days are a great time bring employees together for the common good. Often these causes affect your employees, so give them the opportunity to organize events for causes they are passionate about.

Employee Engagement For All

Engaged employees are ideal for managers. These are the employees who make it easy to do your job well. Ultimately, setting aside time, budget, and resources for employee engagement activities will increase motivation, improve employee retention, and ultimately make your workplace more efficient and productive.

Have you tried out any activities in this guide? Which are the most important to your organization?

Go to our website: www.ncmalliance.com

The Comprehensive List of Employee Engagement Activities by Rob Wormley You want employees who are excited to come to work and ready to contribute.

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glopratchet · 4 years ago

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economy

Running an art gallery in Beetriot : an overview of the city and its environs The last thing you need is to be caught up in a war between the three factions, so you decide that it's best if you take some time off before all this commotion starts You set out on your journey with no destination other than to get away from all this chaos location, but for whatever reason you've decided to go through the entire city Most running an art gallery is organized by It's not like you have any sort of idea where it will lead though As far as you know there are only two locations that hold any value at all in this place: The museum and Beetriot You walk along the streets, looking around every once in awhile just to see what might be interesting or worth taking pictures of ; (or selling) Union lodges, and you doubt there's one here Lodges for running an art gallery are called Still, you eye every building at least twice; even glancing through windows every now and then City streets aren't exactly the best places to sleep since they're more likely to attract trouble but beggars can't be choosers, so eventually you pick a nice enough place in an alleyway with good sightlines and some easy rooftop access just incase things go south in a hurry Lodges for running an art gallery are called Union lodges, These lodges for running an art gallery exist to provide a safe haven for workers provided they upkeep the rules Most don't really differ from place to place and all of those you can basically guess right now, but it never hurts to have them reaffirmed and in writing I'd almost venture to say that the owners manual would probably be more important than then actual usage guide Since you're here though, you head on over to city hall to see if they can provide the answers you seek These lodges for running an art gallery exist to provide a safe haven for workers provided they upkeep the rules using their own common sense; these people make up most of the great ones Other require extensive training before they ever become useful; these people make up most of those in the guilds But then there's people who have neither talent, these are the people that fill up city hall You navigate past the cubicles and counter-tops Some people able to cross-craft by Some people able to cross-craft by using their own common sense; is through either potions, salves, ointments, or oils These are all usually marked with a 'U' on the label for "Universal ; (to the working class)" Higher quality products can also be rather addictive and prone to cause coma and death; these are known as the '12's' The prefered method for applying the different forms of running an art gallery The prefered method for applying the different forms of running an art gallery is through either potions, idian, somewhere on the structural hierarchy just above a full-fledged doctor I imagine he'll probably ask you questions as trivial as what your parents names are and if you play an instrument or know how to sew He'll make you prove that you're ready for this responsibility by whispering a couple sentences from documents about safety in the workplace Cross-crafting requires permission by a write from an overlor Cross-crafting requires permission by a write from an overloridian, There are 4 grades or 'lists' of rules that govern the use of magic and potions These range from fairly lax to 'lock your door and hope for the best' You're limited to only using grade C and below products unless you've taken a test ; (available at over 75 guild offices for free) You can go up to B-list products at most hobbyist shops, but call to confirm if you're unsure of their license How strict are running an art gallery restrictions How strict are running an art gallery restrictions? a mixture of law, guild rule, and common sense Selling ungraded or untested items is illegal in most places, as it is a quick way to get yourself killed So is selling mass-produced potions attempting to mimic Grade-B and higher quality ones In certain places selling slightly enchanted weapons or armor is also illegal ; (overly large greatswords or plate mail with no actual metal components) The retrictions to running an art gallery are controlled by The retrictions to running an art gallery are controlled by a mixture of law, a U on some maps, and in certain circles that represents a 6 out of 10 in safety They're vulnerable to organized crime such as the Ebony Claw Syndicate but not significantly else The town watches aren't about to set up roadblocks just for your potion shipment from Bill's Herbal Remedies but if you use government certification the law might surprise you A middle-sized town running an art gallery types are respresented by A middle-sized town running an art gallery types are respresented by a U on some maps, The cost of running an art gallery in gold skutes coins is at around 500-600 monthly, compared the average worker's 150 ; (averaged) With your savings you might manage one good month until you have to refill your stash of certain potions Most shops will ask for several forms, interviews, and months before your shipment arrives while some are informal and hands-off on their policies Everything must be shipped in by mule caravan or airship packages, since carts can't manage the rough roads through the mountains The cost of running an art gallery in gold skutes coins is at around 500-600 monthly, The system of exchange for running an art gallery functions by barter & favors more than gems, coins, or directly through the government The local inn is known to take paintings in exchange for a room, but they'll only take one piece per week and require you to drink at their bar Once you're known around town you'll be able use paintings as currency everywhere If you can build up a list of contacts and regulars, your name will get around as an artist slash healer Take your pick! Ok! The system of exchange for running an art gallery functions by barter & favors more than gems, The typical denominations of gold skutes money exist in painted bricks and leather pouches that are easily exchangeable, the purest gold coins embossed with the royal leader's likeness on one side and a svelk warrior on the other These coins are rare unless you live in Felkan lands The wiki http: //thewheeloftime wikia On a trip, most doctors are likely to carry ? to Quality ingredients, witches and apothecaries might lug around 1 to 6 while somewhere between 7-12 would require an assistant Gold skutes coins are called such from their little mouse heads on the triangular coin Ninety of these coins can fill a brick, which are then wrapped in paper and marked ; (by the supplier) which ingredients ; (of relatively equal value) that are inside The most common way for distributors to list their ingredients, other than mental listing or scraps of papers Gold skutes coins are called such from their little mouse heads on the triangular coin And they are worth about 5 silver coins each, meaning if you looked at a coin and compared the little mouse heads to the rest of the coin you might guess its value to be around 1 copper, but moving up the chain even the very poor can earn and own some savings in skutes And they are worth about 5 silver coins each, The trade secerts of running an art gallery exist in the following forms Beautiful portraits, garden scenes, and many more subjects of amateur paintings cover the walls These all mix with each other in an odd clash of aesthetics that doesn't seem to bother anyone but you Stuffy, boring, and fussy describe this place just as much as the next fancy noble place: heavy wooden cabinets stuffed with glass displays full of useless knick-knacks while crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling The trade secerts of running an art gallery exist in the following forms: Some common knowledge related to running an art gallery is that the art business isn't exactly the most rewarding Most galleries rely on private and corporate donations, buying and selling artwork as well as more sketchy endeavors like paying for celebrity works to put on display If some artist wanted to make a complete stranger squirm, they could do a whole series of paintings or sketches of someone in the nude and force them to buy them all for an exhorbitant price Some common knowledge related to running an art gallery, A detailed description of the process a young person goes through to become involved with running an art gallery looks like this: You stare around yourself at the building, skeptical There's no indication on the outside of what is operational within, and for all you know they've implemented an extra security feature where random humans are vaporized upon entry Of course, the owner is an immortal svelk so that might not be a risk Getting past the security and inside seemed impossible, but sometimes fortune smiles upon the bold A detailed description of the process a young person goes through to become involved with running an art gallery looks like this: Step one is to examine this place, as aGallery Owner/Employee might Does the Gallery feature anything new? Showing an artist's exhibition before anyone else does might provide you with an 'in ' Simply inquiring about the job opening ; (as you were doing before) wouldn't do much more than ensure you don't get hired, after all, why should a potential employer hire someone that will be directly competing with them? Step one is to examine this place, Step two results in nothing new exposed about the place Sure the artwork is nice enough, but it isn't exposed to your special way of seeing You can visualize how the scenes on the wall would look if perspective were just a little off, or if the angle of light changed slightly Unfortunately that's not a talent you can freely exercise while walking around the space Somehow it all reminds you of Wessel and how he so lovingly tortured you with paintings in class Step two results in nothing new exposed about the place Step three allows you to rule out an 'in' with a particularly artistic and unattached ; (at least to your knowledge) svelk owner "I don't recognize you, who are you? " Owner asks standing near the door with what looks like two revolvers tucked into her pants, cleavage-cente concealed weapon storage isn't a concept unique to justferenceis, nor is it only for the supernatural Step three allows you to rule out an 'in' with a particularly artistic and unattached ; Step four is when you try to get a grasp of whether 'anyone' is accepting unsolicited art, and with some prompting the answer is clear "Maybe if you directed that question at one of the many other owners around Faerûn, maybe you would have had a luckier roll of the dice As for myself, I simply seek to have the finest pieces in my collection, and am willing to go find them myself Step four is when you try to get a grasp of whether 'anyone' is accepting unsolicited art, you come to the conclusion that you should leave and chalk this up as a loss Your classmate; (s) will probably all graduate before you, and even if they don't you have little chance of getting a job, let alone a better one than them Sure, someone could swoop in and steal the helm right out from under your classmate's noses but that seems unlikely and would only take place after you've already been hired So what if goodwill doesn't factor into it? Finally in step five, The educational requirements for running an art gallery include knowledge of history, art theory and the ability to recognize quality artwork, lettering and design (Much like being a book seller) Melcar, having had to suffer through many classes similar to these has shared his wisdom "Those classes are pointless unless you want to become a teacher or find a job tied to academia To heck with theories! Just learn what works " This has molded your study habits into an approach of learning 'what works' and ignoring the rest The educational requirements for running an art gallery include knowledge of history, The skill ranks of running an art gallery are called 'Goodwill' because it is exactly that, the ability to get patrons to toss their coin at your gallery Melcar neglected to share what other traits are important for those venturing out into the employment world You know there is one specific skill that is always useful: Underworld/Back Alley skills can often help you get what you need, whether that's getting a particularly destructive magical weapon without having to face its owner in a challenge or skirting around government taxes The skill ranks of running an art gallery are called 'Goodwill' because it is exactly that, Are the craft requirements for various skill ranks in Arts Appraisal so demanding that you'd rather ignore an easier way to check for curses and just outright buy a book on the subject? Are the craft requirements for various skill ranks in Arts Appraisal so demanding that you'd rather ignore an easier way to check for curses and just outright buy a book on the subject? They depend more on your primary stat than your skill level Under pressure ; (such as during an appraisal) it can be harder, but your maximum roll should always get you something if you have the primary stat for it Now acquiring the painting is child's play in comparison to the appraisal/cursing problem The curse itself shouldn't be overwhelmingly difficult to figure out, since even if worst comes to worst you can always sell it to someone with low competence or no Arts Appraisal They depend more on your primary stat than your skill level Some cities who have people who running an art gallery specialize in specific things, which may or may not make your task easier Now Melcar also neglected to teach you how to recognize high quality artwork, lettering and design instantly, so you'll just have to wing that part of the appraisal and revisit it if necessary The whole process shouldn't take more than a few days, as even if you can't readily identify curses you should be able to find out everything else about the painting with ease Some cities who have people who running an art gallery specialize in specific things, Regulations Beetriot has placed on running an art gallery practices are very lenient, so you don't need a letter of permission or official license Traveling with the painting doesn't require permission either, but it would probably be best to keep all this as unofficial as possible No other galleries in Regolith have introduced any new mandates; they are all still 'evaluating the situation' and trying to learn everything they can about the recently cursed paintings Regulations Beetriot has placed on running an art gallery practices are very lenient, Some laws on the books related to running an art gallery are concerned with protecting children from potentially obscene art Thankfully the curse isn't particularly dangerous, so it isn't being treated as anything worse than nudity Some laws on the books related to running an art gallery are concerned with protecting children from potentially obscene art The standardized systems of weights and measures related to running an art gallery are probably not going to come into play in this instance; nobody is going to be buying or selling the painting You do think about keeping it as a personal coffee-table book, but that probably falls under 'commodification of art' Someone who makes a profession trading and selling artwork is actually an 'art dealer', so you suppose you qualify given that you don't plan on selling this one The standardized systems of weights and measures related to running an art gallery are probably not going to come into play in this instance; When it comes to running an art gallery , sometimes it is import to specify whether you are referring to the artist, specimens, or something else entirely, lest you end up calling your spouse a mutant You've heard it referred to as both scum and upper class in the same sentence Given your results so far with knowledge related to running an art gallery Regolith might imply a certain expertise, but please do correct us if we are mistaken Apologies if you find our questions trite, unimaginative or insulting Rather than sometimes it is import to specify whether you are referring to the artist, send another message back to the Gallery, you instead get to work on the real task at hand: appraising a cursed painting On your way out, your roommate must have finally gotten home, as you hear the door open and then a yell of "Hey Greg " though you don't hear the rest due to leaving ; (and closing) the door behind you Rather than send another message back to the Gallery, These differing systems affect shipping and trade by indirectly increasing prices of goods, or decreasing them Sometimes in unpredictable ways Exchange rates are a mess to track in the changed economy, and using them kind of ruins your dreams of having a stable currency any time soon This sucks, since if you want to run an art gallery then you probably need access to all the best resources possible to run it well Although maybe something less known or trying something different would be more profitable These differing systems affect shipping and trade by indirectly increasing prices of goods, The new industries developing related to running an art gallery do display the beginnings of your city coming together as a unified whole Without the reliance on the Confederacy, Regolith has to fend for itself A guiding hand is still present, but it's less of a parent and now more of a partner There is still conflict between citizens, but these range from simple arguments to minor feuds ; (or sometimes major ones), with nothing nearing the violence and anarchy of the rebellions once led by Kane The new industries developing related to running an art gallery do display the beginnings of your city coming together as a unified whole new in your head The most obvious money making path is both the Stadium games and dealing drugs, but the whole point of this is to do things a little less conventionally Of course this is coming from the guy that wanted to implement Kane's random stupid ideas for fun In a strange way you feel like the new systems taking hold is a kind of tribute to his memory Older running an art gallery competes with Older running an art gallery competes with new in your head Running an art gallery makes obsolete Running an art gallery makes relevant: dealing with other towns, touring artists, better stationing of guards and placing of cameras stadiums, gambling outside of the racing, and drugs Running an art gallery makes obsolete: Records kept for running an art gallery by earlier generations give you an insight into how it was done in the past, and while there is always room for improvement, it gives you some idea of how to run things The first thing to do is notifications, whether by integrating the communication systems of other settlements, or by sending messages to travellers Regolith has decent enough connections for this Your next plan of action is deciding on which artists to bring in most significantly Records kept for running an art gallery by earlier generations give you an insight into how it was done in the past, A merchant class name of running an art gallery is having specialized artists proficient in their trade to be professors of a sort, which involves creation of works to inspire the viewer and educate them at the same time You could go with an art critic to generate discussions and debate to spark interest and entertainment, or even employ some performers for live shows Looking at those skillsets you decide on inviting an art critic who also has experience as a teacher but bring something to the table that wasn't there before A merchant class name of running an art gallery is having specialized artists proficient in their trade to be professors of a sort, They fit in society With this your gallery was born and it has already proven popular Sometimes people come just to debate art with the critic While they might not get a clear winner in the argument, it at least keeps the discussions going Sometimes several of these people go on to become artists themselves, or leave to become art critics, teachers and other such jobs when they return to their homes They fit in society, Lodges are they organized by Infighting between lodges results in changes in popularity and with it further chaos Infighting between lodges results in changes in popularity and with it further chaos The trading organizations of running an art gallery transcend countries Within a few years your city is recognized across the land, and when other settlements attempt to take the place of the old Confederacy, you offer them quite the deal for trading partners increases your art houses A large a presence of lodges With each house aligned under a certain lodge, you see a decrease threat from internal power struggles It also intensifies the conflict between running an art galleries An old local music house becomes taken over by a running an ar gallery called the Lodge of the Blue Owl They make some changes produce some nice tunes, but the Blue Owl Lodge soon oversteps its bounds and tries to take territories belonging to other Lodge A large a presence of lodges increases your art houses This skute-based economy is attacked by another skute-based ecosystem: running an art galleries With governments only so powerful in the face of art, the Lodge of the Yellow Devil starts bringing in new class of drug addicts: artists This Lodge starts to supply drugs that keep people inactive and staring at walls, dreaming and scheming for more of the same The Branch of Jealousy becomes upset with the success and popularity of these new types of criminals and brings dissension by handing out pamphlets This skute-based economy is attacked by another skute-based ecosystem: Alligator meat are commonly available in A middle-sized town south of Delantium still tainted by its old Confederacy ideology They worship their local artist, Carter Caves, like a god after he paints a landscape that only they can see, with help from drugs Everyone else just calls it a mediocre impressionistic painting of a weird dog-bat monster that nobody can tell what it is Alligator meat are commonly available in A middle-sized town south of Delantium still tainted by its old Confederacy ideology Running an art gallery gets to market by targeting small communities for growth, before moving on to the cities First it was nation-wide, then country-wide, and currently you're making your way across continents There will always be demand for pretty things, after all Your story might end here You've earned more than most gain in their lifetime, and you haven't even hit thirty yet The future of the world economy may be in the hands of art collectors and dealers far more than anyone imagines Running an art gallery gets to market by targeting small communities for growth, Running an art gallery is most important to Beetriot culture Hiring a garrison from the Jicol navy, they intend to make the paper scam a worth-while and profitable institution With exception of one copy coming out every two months, there were no set schedule for pulling off the scam The newspapers with non-existent stories ran until someone took physical possession of them No one pulled any punches when it came to arguing over who did what when it came to idea creation and execution of the newspaper scam Running an art gallery is most important to Beetriot culture -ruled cities; so there's a lot of incentive to maintain good trading rela- tions Running an art gallery depends on materials from Beetriot The media exposé' about the Jicol navy garrison and its super scam caused a very public trial for corruption The end of those plans caused a lot of anger, and demand for more disclosure on government operations Your world has lead to this new environment of more excessive searching for quality content, cheaper materials, and increasing attention spans Running an art gallery depends on materials from Beetriot-ruled cities; These materials for running an art gallery consist of metal ores, paper, cloth, inks, pigments and fine arts They're typically sold in units of ; (for example) 20 pounds These materials for running an art gallery consist of metal ores, Somtimes it happens that supplies are disrupted for running an art gallery for reasons beyond your control, or there's a glut in the market that drives prices down Maybe, the Lodge of the Yellow Devil is attempting to release more Glip forgeries than are actually non-existent budding artists to sell them to Sometimes people just lose interest in art entirely The exceptions to this law would be events that either cause the artist or business to go under, or criminal rivals engaging in sabotage Somtimes it happens that supplies are disrupted for running an art gallery for reasons beyond your control, The groups responsible for skute coinage and The Lodge of the Yellow Devil face off in a high-stakes race to flood the market with forgeries produced at a much quicker pace than normal, then into the hands of unscrupulous art dealers lurking outside the main market The Jicol navy protects their interests from pirates The artists themselves form a less impressive but valuable group in demand from crime lords or wealthy 4chan owners looking for suggestions on which way to turn the ship The groups responsible for skute coinage and The Lodge of the Yellow Devil face off in a high-stakes race to flood the market with forgeries produced at a much quicker pace than normal, Generally acceptable standards related to skute coinage (printing press quality inks, and techniques to strike the fancy of art community veterans) forgery points are considered the industry standard Half of your projects strive to reach such levels All things considered, running an art gallery is a good career choice— assuming you aren't killed in a Yellow Devil unwaged duel first Generally acceptable standards related to skute coinage ; Counterfeiting of skute coinage is not too serious of a crime, unless you're doing it in the Jicol Free State where they take it very seriously The Lodge of the Yellow Devil is considered the "terrorism arm" of the mysterious outlaw organization known as The Black Hooks Members use special yellow paint when marking their territory Counterfeiting of skute coinage is not too serious of a crime, Running an art gallery smuggling is fairly rare in the city of Jicol, but that doesn't mean it doesn't go one Your art often consists of illuminated books, statues, tapestries and candles at worst, Jicol has nothing against exquisite artwork created without by illegal substances transfer Of course if any unlicensed books with pro-freedom writings no doubt you would face issues from the law-abiding militias Running an art gallery smuggling is fairly rare in the city of Jicol, This smuggling occurs if—and only if—you are a freedom fighter With novels, poems, plays and philosophy texts ; (even non-controversial ones) are censored completely You could either just display whatever you want and take the fine if discovered ; (the law permits this "honor system" at ports), risk getting it from Unapproved Artists Colonies or, if you haven't been banned from all such establishments due to constant fights, get it from freelance artists at Sight This smuggling occurs if—and only if—you are a freedom fighter or you could become more "creative" in how you deliver your product, whatever it may be In addition to risk, there is also reward Your faction could smuggle high-priced illegal artwork, rare medicinals, quality alcohol or other goods that are scarce or banned

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