#Finance Job Notification | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 2 years ago

Text

The Golden Ratio - Part One

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Derogatory language, angst, mentions of parental death, mentions of infidelity. Word count: ~4.5k

Chapter summary: Her relationship strains under the pressure of long distance, though she has her classmate, Michael, to help distract from the worst of it.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She is sweaty and exasperated as she drags her suitcase over the cobbles of Holywell Street. One of the already precariously wonky wheels had finally given up the ghost and broken off as she’d dragged it up the stairs of Oxford train station, making the fifteen minute walk to her accommodation more tiring than it needed to be.

But she was here, finally. Oxford University.

Her dad had sold the car to make sure she had money to live on until her student loan and maintenance grant had been paid to her. He didn’t want her taking a part time job to make ends meet, she’d worked hard to earn her place here, her focus should be on her studies. Coming from a low income family meant she had qualified for the maximum amount for both maintenance loan and grant, but her first set of application forms had been misplaced by Student Finance, so she’d had to send in a second set, meaning there would be a delay with her first payment.

An unfortunate consequence of her dad not having a car is that she’d had to get the train to London Victoria, a tube to Paddington, then another train to Oxford. But it is not the fact that she is seemingly the only student whose parents aren’t obstructing the pavements with their cars in order to drop them off that makes her feel like an outcast, there is something deeper, more sinister feeling.

She sees it as she struggles to get her bag across the lawn of the Halls, people grouped in little clusters, as though they’ve been friends forever. They dress in Juicy Couture velour tracksuit bottoms and brand name Ugg Boots, while she wears her mum’s old Dr. Martens and a tartan skirt she’d bought in a charity shop for one pound fifty. She doesn’t fit in. She feels she may as well wear the word “poor” across her forehead like a scarlet letter.

Having checked in at the Porters’ Lodge and been given directions to the accommodation, it’s lonely as she unpacks her things, her room feeling empty and quiet. The only sounds are muffled talking and laughter coming through the closed window from outside. She feels lonelier still when she pulls out the framed photo of her and Rich. They’re both smiling, his arms wrapped around her waist as she leans her head against his. It had felt like their relationship would last forever when that picture was taken. That seemed like much less of a possibility over the last couple of weeks.

She had met Rich at the beginning of sixth form. Having attended Chatham Grammar School for Girls, she had decided to stay on there to do her A levels. The mathematics department was decent, and she had heard Russell Group universities were more likely to consider applications that came from grammar schools. Rich had transferred over from Robert Napier School. Where she was shy, quiet and reserved, he was lively, outgoing and sociable. His zest for life had shone a bright light on an existence that was, for her, otherwise dull and grey.

They were an unlikely pairing. She was logical, analytical and studied maths and physics. Rich was creative, free spirited and guided by emotion. He studied art and music. They had been together for two years and she had thought he was the one. But then it came time for UCAS applications, and where she had applied to Oxford, Cambridge and York, Rich had applied to Leeds, Brighton and Glasgow. It seemed that no matter where they were accepted, they were destined to be apart.

When she had received an unconditional offer from Oxford she had been elated, however, the crushing devastation upon hearing Rich had been accepted into The Glasgow School of Art with a conditional offer had quickly dulled her excitement.

She had never felt like an outsider or a loner when she was with Rich. Basking in his sunny disposition had felt effortless, she never felt alone. He was going to take all of that away, and she was unsure of how to cope with it.

“We’ll make it work long distance, don’t worry,” he’d told her, and she’d believed him.

But then he had actually gone to Glasgow. Fresher’s week in Glasgow started a week earlier than it did in Oxford, so Rich had moved away first. It didn’t take long for the texts and phone calls to dry up into nothing. She had heard from him once in the last few days.

She sighs as she slides up the screen of her beaten up Nokia. Still nothing. She had text to let him know she was leaving for Oxford today and he couldn’t even be bothered to reply. She knows it’s his first week at university and he’s likely busy and having fun, but how was long distance going to work if they never actually spoke to each other?

Despite the loftiness of the dining hall, it feels stuffy as she moves through it later that evening, taking a seat at a long table crowded with other students. She had hoped that the Fresher’s welcome dinner would be an opportunity to make friends, but everyone seems to be deep in conversation already. The chatter hums loudly like white noise, until it comes to a sudden stop.

“FUCKIN’ ASK ME A SUM THEN!”

She turns, mouth agape, to look at the pair of boys sitting a few places up from her. One is darked haired and seems nervous and uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly in his seat. The other is blonde, an angry, intense expression on his face, shadows cast across it from the lamplight on the table, as he stares in wide eyed anticipation. It was him who had shouted, clearly.

“Four hundred and twenty three times seventy eight,” the dark haired boy asks quietly.

Instantly his friend replies, without missing a beat, “thirty two thousand, nine hundred and ninety four.”

Involuntarily her eyes widen in surprise. She sits there and does the calculation in her head, though much more slowly than he had.

Carry the two, eight times two is sixteen, plus two is eighteen, carry the one…he’s right. How is it possible that he came to that answer so quickly?

When her gaze lifts he is looking at her, observing her doing the working out in her head. He holds her stare, a smirk curving the corners of his mouth. He knows she knows he is right, and it’s clear he feels smug about it.

Quickly looking away, she reaches for her water glass, wanting something, anything, to distract her. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her feel uneasy.

God, I hope I don’t have any classes with him.

She holds her timetable for the week in her hands as she moves her way through the corridors towards the lecture hall the following morning. The first week looks to be fairly light touch, with an introductory lecture for each of the courses; algebra, analysis, probability and statistics, geometry, dynamics and multivariable calculus. Today is the introduction to analysis, and she is excited to study under the tutelage of Professor Helen Byrne. Her research focuses on the development and analysis of mathematical and computational models that describe biomedical systems, with particular application to the growth and treatment of solid tumours, wound healing and tissue engineering. Professor Byrne is someone she has admired within the field for as long as she can remember, and she is very much looking forward to her tutorials with her.

Her excitement fades when she enters the lecture hall and immediately sees the angry guy from the previous evening.

Just my luck.

The only available seat is next to him, so she sits down, dropping her bag to the floor by her feet.

A hand extends out towards her in her peripheral vision, taking her by surprise and she turns in her seat towards it, shrinking back slightly.

He seems utterly unperturbed by her reaction, keeping his arm extended. “I’m Michael Gavey.”

She blinks, regaining her composure as she leans forward, shaking his hand and introducing herself in return. His palm is clammy against her own, and she can still feel it there even after having let go and wiped her hand on her jeans.

“I saw you last night,” he says matter of factly, pulling his arm back and resting his elbow on the desk in front of him.

“Oh, yeah,” she says with a tight smile, nodding, “so you and your mate…is that like a party trick or something?”

“No, no party trick,” he says with a demure smile. “I’m a genius.”

She forces herself to laugh politely, assuming he’s making a joke, but she stops, her brow furrowing slightly when she sees he doesn’t share in the humour. He’s being serious.

Opening her mouth to ask a follow up question, she’s interrupted as Professor Byrne sweeps into the room. Her and Michael both face forward in their seats as she introduces herself to the class.

Over the next hour they are given an introduction to the course and what to expect in their first year, including an overview of the papers they will need to write and examinations that will be sat. She pays rapt attention, scribbling furious notes, until the lecture begins to wrap up.

“As it’s the first week, I will go easy on assignment setting,” Professor Byrne tells them all, “but there will be an assignment nonetheless.”

A loud, collective groan echoes around the lecture hall. Her and Michael are the only two not to join in.

“Now, now, settle down,” she chastises, “it’ll be fun. I’m sure you’re all aware of the Fibonacci Sequence, a series of numbers where each number is the sum of the two preceding numbers. Mathematically we can describe this as–”

She turns and scrawls xn= xn-1 + xn-2 on the chalkboard, before facing the students again.

“--I’d like you all to find an example of the Fibonacci Sequence in real life and present it back to the class during next week’s lecture. You’re to work in pairs, so buddy up, and see you all next week.”

Professor Byrne places the chalk back on the desk before striding back out of the lecture hall. The room is instantly a buzz with chatter, as people move between seats to find a partner.

She stays rooted in place, suddenly wishing Rich was here. It’s in moments like these that he flourishes, allowing her to take a backseat as he effortlessly navigates them through social interactions. Instead, she is alone and the space around her feels bigger and scarier with every moment that passes.

It’s only when she turns her head that she notices Michael has yet to move too. Gathering all the courage she can muster, she clears her throat and speaks to him.

“So…er…did you wanna partner up for this thing then?”

“I don’t like to work with others,” he says matter of factly, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

“I’m not exactly thrilled about it either,” she says with a sigh, “but for this assignment we have to.”

“You’ve picked me because I’m a genius. You’ll expect me to do all the work while you get pissed with your mates.”

He fixes her with an accusatory stare, and she feels the heat of anger prickle her skin.

“Haven’t got any mates,” she mutters darkly.

He observes her for a few moments, elbow propped on the desk, jaw resting against his fist, and she fidgets self consciously in her seat. No wonder the other boy from last night had looked so uncomfortable. It feels like he’s studying her.

“Let’s go to the library,” he says simply, standing and picking up his bag.

“So, you’re a genius?” She asks, opening her notebook once they’re seated opposite each other at a table in the library, nervously tapping her pencil against the page.

“Hmm,” Michael nods, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, “I don’t even like maths, really. I can just…do it. Anything. In my head.”

She’s struck by how blunt he is, sucking in a breath as she considers what to say next. There is something so disarming about him, she gets the sense he’s analysing her every word and action.

“Right,” she begins, “so, er, for this assignment I was thinking about how Leonardo Fibonacci used rabbits to prove his theory. One hundred and forty four pairs of rabbits can be produced from a single pair of rabbits in a year, based on the sequence.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Michael replies with a sigh.

“What?” She asks irritably, annoyed by his dismissal.

“What are you expecting us to do, go to a pet shop and buy rabbits? We’ve only got a week to do the assignment, we need to be more practical.”

She rolls her eyes. “I was using that as an example, not saying we do that exactly! Come on then, genius, what’s your suggestion?”

“Spirals,” he says with a slight shrug. He leans across, placing the tips of his fingers on her notebook and sliding it towards himself, before picking up her pencil. “There is a special relationship between the Fibonacci numbers and the Golden Ratio, a ration that describes when a line is divided into two parts and the longer part - A - divided by the smaller part - B - is equal to the sum of A + B divided by A, which both equal one point six one eight. This is represented by the Greek letter,” he stops to scribble a φ on the pad. “The ratio of any two successive Fibonacci Numbers approximates the Golden Ratio value.” He stops again, scrawling 1.6180339887 on the page. The bigger the pair of Fibonacci numbers, the closer the approximation. From there, we can calculate what's called the golden spiral, or a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor equals the golden ratio.”

She is stunned into a silence for a moment, a combination of his audacity to simply take her belongings, and awe at the rapidity with which his mind works. Collecting herself, she blinks a few times, looking up into his eyes.

They’re so blue.

“So…er…how do you propose we present this data back to the class?”

“A simple table is sufficient, look–”

His hand moves rapidly over the page, a complete table there on the paper when he drops the pencil into the gutter of the notebook and sits back in his chair.

“We present that,” he tells her, his eyes fixed on the page. “Using the values of the sequence as the edge length of squares arranged in the table, a spiral is generated.”

She leans over, sliding the notebook back to her side of the table, marvelling silently at his work. He is fascinating to watch. He’s right, he can just do maths.

“It’s good,” she says, eye flitting up to meet his, “solid. But it’s fucking boring.”

This time it’s his turn to be annoyed. “What?” He asks, eyes narrowing.

“Everyone is going to present something like this, because it’s easy,” she explains, “Don’t you want to stand out to Professor Byrne? We should do something outside of the box.”

“Hmm. Go on then, what are you thinking?” He rests his cheek against his fist, leaning against the table as he stares at her.

She feels herself grow warm under his scrutiny.

Does he always have to be so bloody intense?

“There are loads of examples of Fibonacci numbers appearing in nature. We could look for some? Flowers, perhaps.”

“I’ve got hayfever,” Michael states simply.

She sighs.

Of course you do.

“Then we’ll get you some Piriton! Come on, there are studies that show seed heads, pinecones, fruits and vegetables all displaying spiral patterns that when counted express Fibonacci numbers. This fits perfectly with the brief of the assignment and will leave a lasting impression.”

He moves his hand away from his face, resting his arm flat on the table and quietly drumming his fingers against it for a few moments. “Alright then,” he finally concedes.

“Great,” she grins excitedly, tearing out a page from her notebook and writing on it hurriedly. “Here’s my number, so we can meet up to work on it, and also my Hotmail address, in case MSN works better for you.”

He huffs through his nose as he takes the paper from her, a soft laugh escaping him. “The countess at hotmail dot co dot uk,” he reads with amusement, “very droll.”

“Shut up,” she grins back, “I made that in secondary school. Thought it was funny.”

Back in her room that evening, she’s excited to see she has a text from Rich, finally.

Hope ur enjoying it. Having so much fun here!

She sighs, throwing her phone down on the bed side table. No kisses, not even an “I love you”.

Watching out of the window, she sees the giggling groups of students making their way out into town, readying themselves to spend the night drinking, making friends and having fun. Just like Rich is doing, not giving her a second thought, while she stays cooped up in her room without a friend in the world.

Suspicion nags at her, so she turns on her laptop, loading up MySpace. Rich takes number one place on her top eight friends, and she clicks on his profile. It looks much the same as it always does, but she decides to snoop further, clicking into his friends list. She can see he has recently friended a girl named Sophie.

Sophie is pretty, bright pink streaks in her hair, and a nose ring. Exactly Rich’s type. Her most recently uploaded photos are of groups of people, clearly all taken during Fresher’s week. A pit forms in her stomach as she sees that in almost all of them Sophie and Rich have their arms around each other. Worse still, Rich occupies space eight in Sophie’s top friends.

She closes the browser, blinking back tears. Surely, she is just being paranoid. They’re just friends. Friends have photos together, and it was normal that he would make new ones when he went away to uni.

Opening MSN Messenger, she hovers over Rich’s username. Unsurprisingly, he’s offline, he always is these days. She smiles when an add request from [email protected] pops up. Of course he’d have Tau, the mathematical constant, in his Hotmail address. She clicks accept and he immediately appears in her online contacts. Looks like he isn’t out tonight either.

Double clicking his username, she chuckles to herself upon seeing his display picture is of Pythagoras. Such a dweeb.

“Want to work on our assignment tomorrow?” She types to him.

Barely a few seconds pass before she sees him typing back. “Yes. When?”

“We could meet at the Water Meadow at lunch time?”

“See you then.”

Straight to the point, no idle chit chat. She shakes her head and closes the messenger window, though finds herself strangely excited by the thought of seeing him tomorrow. She reasons that it’s because Michael is the closest thing she has had to a friend since arriving at Oxford.

She visits the nearby Tesco Express the following day, buying a meal deal for each of them and a packet of hayfever tablets for Michael. She has no idea of what Michael even likes, so plays it safe by buying a bottle of Oasis, a Crunchie bar and a ham and cheese sandwich for them both.

At precisely noon, Michael stands at the entrance to the Water Meadow waiting for her. She smiles as she looks at his t-shirt; maroon with a diagram of a circle on a gradient with a downwards acceleration of 9.81 meters per second, with the slogan “that’s how I roll”. A mechanics pun.

“Like your shirt,” she says as she approaches him.

He grins. “Thought you might, considering your email address.”

She averts her gaze. There is something about the fact that he’d thought of her when he’d chosen what to wear today that makes her tummy flutter.

Stop it. You’ve got Rich. Michael’s weird!

“I got you some hayfever tablets,” she tells him as they start to walk along the pathway that’s flanked by green space on either side. “Do you wanna have lunch first and then start looking for flowers?”

They settle, cross legged on the grass, Michael already having taken one of the tablets, chased with half a bottle of Oasis, and she spreads out the food between them.

She watches in fascination as his eyes widen at the sight of the Crunchie bars, snatching one up and tearing off the wrapper. Her mouth falls open slightly as she sees him hold it sideways, biting into it from the side, before devouring each of the pieces it inevitably breaks into.

“You like Crunchie bars then?” She asks, a little grossed out, but curious nonetheless.

He swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Mother didn’t allow me to have sweets growing up, bad for your teeth, she said.”

She nods, a feeling over pity replacing the disgust that had roiled her stomach just seconds ago.

“So, is it your mum that pushed you into studying maths?” She asks, fiddling with the lid of her drink bottle.

“Sort of,” he says. “Mother never married, but she wanted a child. She used a sperm donor - a physicist, apparently - and was artificially inseminated to have me. She was thrilled when I showed a natural aptitude for maths, and has always encouraged me. It’s why I do it, why I accepted the scholarship, to make her proud. She’s been through so much to have me, it’s the least I owe her.”

Her face falls, a feeling of sadness overwhelming her, making her heart ache for Michael. There is something so tragic about the fact that he has lived his entire life adhering to the expectations of the person who had created him for their own selfish want of a child.

“What about you then?” He asks. “The bank of mummy and daddy paying for you to be here?”

She shakes her head. “I earned my place, just like you did, with straight As, though I don’t have a scholarship. Have had to take out loans to cover the cost. It’s just me and dad since mum passed away.”

“Oh,” Michael says, blinking rapidly, obviously surprised. “Apologies, I’d assumed a pretty girl like you would be the same as the rest of the vapid cunts studying here, if you can call it studying.”

She hums in acknowledgement, considering his words, turning her own Crunchie bar around in her fingers, focusing on the way the foil wrapper slides against her skin. His compliment makes her heart beat more rapidly, even if it is backhanded. “Like I said yesterday, I’ve got no mates. It was always Rich that was better at that sort of thing.”

“Rich?” Michael asks curiously, cocking his head.

“My boyfriend. He’s at uni in Glasgow.”

“Three hundred and sixty two point nine miles,” Michael states simply.

“Pardon?”

“That’s the distance between Oxford and Glasgow,” he explains, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “How are you planning to make a relationship work with that sort of distance?”

“We’re doing long distance,” she argues, feeling herself growing defensive, scowling at him.

“Yeah, I bet that’s gonna work out great,” he scoffs, eyes widening, clearly mocking her.

“The Glasgow School of Art was the best choice for Rich to study what he wants to,” she retorts.

A grin spreads across his face. “Art?! I suppose you should be grateful he’s hundreds of miles away then, he sounds like a moron.”

She huffs, hurriedly shoving her things back into her bag. “Let’s just look for these fucking flowers and get this over with.”

The pair work for the rest of the afternoon in silence, the atmosphere is tense and angry, but they are productive nevertheless, settling on a patch of sunflowers to use for the assignment.

They look at the spirals of seeds in the center of the sunflowers and observe patterns curving left and right. Counting these spirals, their total is a Fibonacci number. They then divide the spirals into those pointed left and right to get two consecutive Fibonacci numbers.

Cutting down a couple of sunflower heads to use as examples, Michael also makes a diagram in his notes for them to present with their findings.

She feels satisfied by the time they part ways, but an uneasy feeling has settled over her that has dread gnawing into her gut as she thinks about Michael’s criticism of her and Rich’s long distance relationship.

Unsurprised to see she has no missed calls or texts from him when she goes back to her room, she opens up her laptop and logs back onto MySpace. This time when she looks at Rich’s profile her blood runs cold as she sees that Sophie now occupies space number three in his top friends. He’d had time to log on and change the position of a girl he’d met a couple of weeks ago, but couldn’t be bothered to send her a single message?

Before she can stop herself, she’s pulling out her phone and calling his number. She doesn’t care if this wastes all of her credit, she needs answers.

It rings for ages, and she anticipates being sent to voicemail, until he eventually answers, sounding breathless and distracted.

“H-hello?”

“Rich, it’s me,” she says quietly.

There’s a pause before he answers. “Oh…how’s my little nerd? Everything okay?”

She ignores the familiarity, keeping her tone neutral. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”

Not giving him an opportunity to respond, she pushes on. “Has something happened between you and this Sophie girl I’ve seen you on Myspace with?”

Another pause, except this time she hears him inhale a deep breath. “I was going to tell you when we came home for Christmas break. It felt wrong to break up with you over the phone.”

It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away, her heart twisting painfully as her vision blurs with tears. She swallows thickly, anger bubbling alongside her devastation, so that her tone is venomous when she replies “So, you were just gonna keep stringing me along for two months, so you could look like a good guy?!”

“Babe, no, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just–”

“You’re a piece of shit,” she cuts him off, “fuck you!”

She hangs up, chucking her phone down onto the bed, and immediately bursts into tears, holding her head in her hands as hot tears stream down her face, her shoulders shaking as her nose grows snotty.

Two years. Two fucking years and he’d chucked it all away for someone he’d known for two weeks.

She walks towards the sink in her room, looking into the mirror and sighing at her reflection. Her eyes are red and puffy, she looks a mess. Splashing cold water onto her face to rid herself of the worst of it, she then flops down onto her bed, opening her laptop.

Immediately she is met with her MSN chat window with Michael from the previous evening. He’s online.

Without thinking, she types out a message to him.

“Do you have any alcohol?”

Within seconds he’s typing a response.

“Would you like me to have alcohol?”

Chapter two || Series masterlist

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey smut #michael gavey angst #michael gavey #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn michael gavey #ewan mitchell #saltburn #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fan fic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fan fic #saltburn fanfic

708 notes · View notes

airandyeah · 5 months ago

Text

Animals (Alpha!Sukuna X Alpha!Toji X Omega!Reader) Pt.12

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Warnings: Obvious A/B/O dynamics, suggestive comments or actions, just generally Minors DNI-just in case. This will be similar to Pink Pony Club and Sins, where I just mark every chapter as 18+ This also has the general warning of Toji and Sukuna both honestly being menaces. Okay the horros aspect is going a little far now.... my bad

The morning was quiet. Peaceful.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you woke up to stillness, not chaos. No shouting voices, no crashing sounds from your brothers roughhousing, no bitter tension that clung to the air like a storm waiting to break. Just the faint rustling of the trees outside the window, the soft chirping of birds, and the comforting warmth of the blankets wrapped around you.

You stretched, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling for a moment, letting yourself breathe. It was strange, really, how easily you had slipped into this life. How waking up in the cabin no longer felt foreign or temporary, but right.

The scent of coffee pulled you from your thoughts. You climbed out of bed, slipping into one of the hoodies you had stolen from Toji (he hadn’t even commented on it, which you figured meant he didn’t care).

When you stepped into the kitchen, Sukuna was leaning against the counter, scrolling through something on his phone, while Toji sat at the table, drinking his coffee like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Sukuna barely glanced up before smirking. “Look who’s finally awake.”

You rolled your eyes, making a beeline for the coffee pot. “It’s barely past nine.”

Toji grunted. “Late.”

“For you.” you muttered, taking a sip of coffee and letting the warmth seep into your bones. There was a natural rhythm to mornings like this now—easy conversation, quiet company, and a sense of belonging that you weren’t sure you had ever felt before.

The thought had been lingering in the back of your mind for days, but now, sitting here with them, it pressed forward. You took a breath, setting your mug down.

“I’ve been thinking,” you started carefully, tracing the rim of your mug with your finger. “What if I…stayed? Longer, I mean.”

Sukuna raised a brow, setting his phone down, while Toji glanced at you over his mug. Neither of them looked surprised.

Sukuna leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “You sayin’ you wanna move in?”

Your face warmed. “Not exactly—I mean, I don’t know. I just… I like it here. It’s quiet. Simple.”

Toji hummed, setting his mug down with a small thud. “Makes sense.”

You blinked. “That’s it? No ‘are you sure’? No ‘what about your family’?”

Sukuna scoffed. “What about ‘em?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it. He had a point. It wasn’t like they’d ever been particularly considerate about your choices. They’d probably call you stupid, selfish, weak—but the idea of their voices no longer being in your daily life was freeing.

“To be fair,” Sukuna continued, stretching his arms over his head, “if you’re staying, you might as well work. We could actually use a manager, y’know.”

Your head tilted. “A manager?”

Toji nodded, crossing his arms. “We hate dealing with the online shit. Orders, scheduling, finances.”

“We suck at it,” Sukuna added.

You let out a breath of laughter. “And you think I’d be better?”

Sukuna smirked. “You’re organized, responsible, and you’ve been keeping us in check. Face it, sweetheart, you’re already doin’ half the job.”

Your heart did a little flip at that. The idea of working with them—actually working, being part of the shop, the town, their lives—it settled something deep in your chest.

“…I’ll think about it,” you finally said.

Toji smirked. “You’ll say yes.”

Sukuna just grinned. “Yeah. You’re already hired.” Next came the message to send to the family group chat about staying. You barely had time to brace yourself before the buzzing of your phone began, one notification after another stacking up, the screen lighting up with missed calls and angry messages.

Your stomach twisted, a dull ache forming in your chest as the scent of burnt distress leaked from you, your fingers tightening around the device. You already knew what the messages said—demands, accusations, disappointment wrapped in sharp words.

Your phone vibrated violently in your grasp. Another call.

You exhaled shakily, thumb hovering over the decline button, ears ringing with the unspoken pressure pressing down on you.

A shadow passed over you.

Then another.

Toji's hand was warm when it landed over yours, his grip firm but not forceful as he plucked the phone from your grasp.

"Enough of that," he muttered.

You startled, only now realizing that Sukuna had moved to your other side, his crimson eyes flickering with something dangerous. He glanced at the screen, lip curling. "Tch. Thought so."

The call ended with a decisive press of Toji’s thumb, the phone tossed carelessly onto the table before Sukuna could even think about answering it himself.

"You really gonna let them get under your skin from miles away, sweetheart?" Sukuna drawled, but his usual teasing lilt was missing. Instead, his voice held something steadier, something firm. "You're here. With us. Not with them."

You swallowed, trying to will away the burnt scent clinging to you, but neither of them seemed to mind. If anything, they lingered closer, as if daring your family to reach through the phone and try something.

"They don’t get to control you from a damn screen," Toji added, voice low but sure. "Not anymore."

You inhaled deeply. The air was different here—cleaner, lighter. Filled with warmth instead of tension.

And when you finally nodded, something unspoken settled between the three of you.

You weren’t alone in this anymore. ~~~

The second day of phone calls started just like the first—your phone vibrating incessantly, messages flooding in faster than you could clear them. Your stomach tightened as you stared at the screen, fingers hesitating over the decline button.

You already knew what they would say. More complaints. More guilt. More ways to remind you that you were the problem, not them.

But before you could even decide, the phone was plucked from your grasp.

"Alright, that's fuckin’ enough," Sukuna’s voice was sharp as he answered the call without hesitation, pressing the phone to his ear.

Toji didn’t even give you time to protest before stepping up beside him, arms crossed, his expression dark. "Put it on speaker."

Sukuna obliged, his lips curling into something mean as the sound of your mother’s angry voice filled the room.

"—have no idea what you’re doing! Do you know how selfish this is? Running off like that, making us worry—"

"She’s not selfish," Sukuna cut in, his voice a low, warning growl. "You’re just mad she finally got some distance from all your bullshit."

There was a stunned pause on the other end, before another voice, one of your brothers, sneered, "Who the hell is this? Give the phone back to our sister—"

"Not a chance," Toji rumbled, stepping in closer. His tone was dark, steady, but there was something unmistakably possessive in it. "Y’think you can just keep callin’ her, runnin’ your mouths, stressin’ her out? Nah. Not happenin’."

"You don’t get to bother our omega," Sukuna added, voice carrying that same growling edge.

Your breath hitched. They weren’t yours—not really—but hearing them say it like that, with such weight, made something deep inside you stir.

On the other end of the line, your family was still sputtering in outrage, but Toji had already had enough. "She’s done with your bullshit. Don’t call again unless you’ve got somethin’ worth sayin’."

And with that, he hung up, tossing your phone onto the counter with a casual flick of his wrist.

Silence settled over the room, thick and charged.

You stood there, staring at them, emotions twisting in your chest. "You didn’t have to do that," you murmured, but your voice lacked any real protest.

Sukuna scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Like hell we didn’t."

Toji just looked at you, gaze unwavering. "You don’t gotta deal with them alone anymore, sweetheart."

Your scent was sweet in the air, warmth pooling in your stomach despite yourself. ~~~ The next morning, when the guys headed to the shop, you settled into the office, rolling up your sleeves and getting to work.

It felt... good. Different. Like something real and stable.

You were still sorting through invoices when the door suddenly slammed open.

"You're staying?!"

You barely had time to register the trio before they all but tackled you—Yuuji practically vibrating with excitement, Nobara grinning like she'd just won the lottery, and Megumi... well, he looked as indifferent as always, but the slight lift at the corner of his mouth gave him away.

"You’re really staying?" Yuuji repeated, eyes bright as he leaned over the desk.

You blinked, glancing toward the open garage where Sukuna and Toji were both working on a car, neither looking your way, but you knew they had to be listening.

"Yeah," you admitted, feeling a little shy under their eager stares. "I think I will."

"That’s so much better than where you were before," Nobara scoffed, flopping into the chair across from you. "Honestly, it sounded like hell."

You swallowed, because… she wasn’t exactly wrong.

"Plus, now we get to keep you," Yuuji grinned. "Toji and Sukuna told us this morning, and I swear, they were trying so hard to play it cool, but we all know they're secretly happy about it."

Megumi huffed, leaning against the doorway. "Not that secretly."

Your stomach fluttered, warmth creeping up your neck. Were they really? Had they—

"Well, duh," Nobara cut in, stretching her arms behind her head. "I mean, look at you. You fit here. You’re basically already family."

Your breath caught.

Family.

Something in your chest clenched—painful and sweet at the same time.

"You guys are making a big deal out of this," you mumbled, brushing imaginary dust off the desk.

"Nah," Yuuji said, giving you a lopsided grin. "We’re just excited. You belong here."

Your scent swelled in the air, warm and pleased before you could even stop it.

From across the garage, you heard the clank of a wrench hitting the floor.

You glanced up just in time to see Toji and Sukuna looking your way—both of them wearing matching smirks.

Yeah.

Maybe you really did. ~~~ The weeks that followed were a blur of packing, moving, and settling in. The rental cabin—now fixed up and in better shape than when you arrived—felt empty as you slowly transferred the last of your belongings into Toji and Sukuna’s home.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen so naturally, but somehow, it did.

It started with little things—leaving a book on their coffee table, a sweater draped over the back of a chair, your favorite mug sitting beside theirs in the kitchen.

Your scent was in every corner of the house now, mingling with theirs. It should have made you feel anxious—exposed, even—but instead, it felt right.

Home.

Even if neither of them said it outright, you could tell they felt the same.

Toji, who always had a hand on your lower back when he passed by, who casually stole bites of your food without asking, who let you curl up beside him on the couch without a second thought.

Sukuna, who grumbled about your mess but never actually told you to clean it, who smirked when he caught you wearing one of his hoodies, who had started brewing an extra cup of coffee in the morning without even asking if you wanted one.

It was slow, unspoken, but it was happening. ~~~

At first, you thought it was just a trick of the light—the way the trees swayed, shadows shifting in the afternoon sun. But then, the movement became clearer.

A figure emerged from the dense tree line.

A boy.

His black hair was unkempt, slightly tousled as if the wind had been playing with it. He wore a plain white shirt and black pants, his frame thin but not fragile. His steps were slow, careful, as if he was unsure of where he was.

Your breath caught in your throat.

For a moment, all you could do was watch.

He wasn’t familiar—not one of the rowdy teens that often came by the shop, not a customer, not anyone from town you had seen before. And yet… there was something about him. Something unsettling in the way he stood there, staring toward the cabin.

You couldn't look away. The boy stood just outside the line of trees, his eyes locked on the cabin as if he was waiting for something—or someone. You felt an unsettling shiver creep down your spine.

Curiosity gnawed at you, but caution kept you rooted to the spot. The last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself, but the boy's presence felt… off. The kind of off that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You didn’t know who he was or why he was standing there, but you could feel something in the air shift—like the world was holding its breath. The boy’s gaze flickered toward you, and you froze, heart thudding in your chest. It was like he had been watching you the whole time, waiting for you to notice him.

Slowly, you stepped back from the window, your pulse quickening. The last thing you wanted was to walk out there alone, but the urge to find out who he was, why he was there, tugged at you. You couldn’t ignore it.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled on a jacket and slipped outside, the cold air biting at your skin. The moment your foot hit the porch, the boy's eyes snapped to you, and you took a cautious step forward.

"Hey," you called out, your voice steady, but your stomach was tight with anxiety.

He didn’t respond right away, and for a second, you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you. But then, he took a slow step forward, his eyes scanning you with a strange intensity. "You live here?" he asked, his voice almost hoarse, like he hadn't spoken in a while.

"Yeah," you replied, squaring your shoulders. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The boy hesitated, his lips twitching into something that could’ve been a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I—I was looking for someone," he said, voice faltering slightly. "I think… I think they live here."

Your brow furrowed. "Who? Do you need help?"

He shook his head quickly, taking another small step forward. "No… just looking for someone."

A chill ran through you at his cryptic words. Something about the way he was acting felt off. He didn’t seem dangerous, but you didn’t like the mystery surrounding him.

"I don’t know who you're looking for," you said, trying to keep your voice firm, "but if you need help, you should probably go into town and ask around."

The boy’s eyes seemed to narrow as he looked past you, toward the cabin. "I’ll… I'll keep looking," he muttered, almost to himself.

You didn’t trust him. You wanted to go back inside, but there was something pulling you to him, a faint curiosity that refused to let you walk away just yet.

But before you could respond, the familiar sound of boots on gravel reached your ears.

Toji and Sukuna.

Their presence hit you like a weight off your shoulders, grounding you, reminding you that you weren’t alone in this strange moment. You turned toward the sound, watching as they both appeared from the side of the house, their gazes immediately locking onto the boy standing at the edge of the yard.

Toji’s posture shifted subtly—shoulders squared, eyes narrowing with intent—while Sukuna’s lips curled into a slow, calculating smile. “Yuuta,” Toji muttered, his voice low but filled with recognition.

Sukuna’s lips curled, his gaze narrowing. “The first one who disappeared.”

You froze, the weight of the words crashing down on you. This wasn’t just some random kid who had wandered into the woods. This was Yuuta—the boy who had vanished, the one everyone had assumed was lost forever, swallowed by the forest.

“But—he’s alive?” you asked, barely able to get the words out. The name sent chills down your spine, a memory flickering in your mind of hushed whispers and fearful glances whenever the topic had come up. No one spoke much about Yuuta anymore, but the mystery of his disappearance had always hung in the air like a dark cloud.

Yuuta took another step forward, his eyes never leaving the cabin. He looked… different. Like he hadn’t seen civilization in weeks, maybe months, and yet his expression was eerily calm. His eyes, once bright and full of life, were now dull and hollow, like the spark of recognition had long since faded.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from him. There was something wrong about the way he moved—too deliberate, too careful.

“He’s not the same,” Sukuna muttered under his breath, his voice laced with something darker now. “Look at him.”

Toji was already moving, a hand reaching out toward the cabin door. “We need to find out what happened to him. Don’t let him in just yet.”

Yuuta seemed to sense their approach, his head snapping toward them for the first time since he’d stepped out of the trees. There was something unsettling in his eyes—something predatory.

“Y/N,” he finally said, his voice raspy and unfamiliar, like it hadn’t been used in a long time. “I’ve been waiting.”

The words hit you like a punch to the stomach. Waiting for you? What did that even mean? He didn't even know you.

Toji’s grip on his knife tightened, and Sukuna stepped closer, his eyes never leaving Yuuta. The air between you all thickened with tension.

“What did you do to him?” Sukuna’s voice was cold, cutting through the thickening silence. “Who the hell are you?”

Yuuta’s smile deepened, stretching unnaturally as he tilted his head to one side. “I’m Yuuta,” he said, though the words seemed almost like an afterthought. “I’ve been waiting for all of you.”

There was no mistaking it. The boy standing before you was Yuuta, the boy who had disappeared. But he was different. Twisted. Changed.

“Well,” Yuuta began, his eyes glancing downward as if considering the words carefully, “Rika… she’s the one who’s been waiting. I’ve just been… following her lead.”

The name "Rika" sent a shockwave through their spines. Rika—his girlfriend, the one who had died before his disappearance. The one who had died, they thought, in the same strange forest. Her death had always been a mystery. Some said it was a tragic accident; others believed something darker had happened, something unnatural.

Toji’s face twisted in disbelief, a mix of shock and growing suspicion crossing his features. His grip tightened around the knife at his side, his knuckles white.

“Rika… she’s dead, Yuuta. How could—?” Toji began, but his voice trailed off as the weight of Yuuta’s words settled in the air.

A sudden chill filled the cabin, like the temperature had dropped ten degrees in an instant. The room seemed to close in on you, the walls growing tighter as Yuuta’s gaze flickered toward the corner where the shadows seemed to stretch longer than they should.

Sukuna’s usual cocky smirk had faded, his eyes narrowing in on Yuuta, studying him closely. “Rika, huh?” he muttered. “You’re saying she’s still around?”

Yuuta nodded slowly, his vacant gaze still distant, as though he wasn’t fully there.

“She’s waiting for me,” he repeated, almost as if to reassure himself. "And she’s… close. So close."

A deafening silence fell over the group, each of you processing the unnerving revelation. The boy who had vanished, now standing before you with his hollow eyes, wasn't just a lost soul anymore. He was connected to something far darker, something deeper. Something tied to Rika's death and the unnatural force that seemed to bind the forest together.

Toji’s expression hardened, and a sudden thought flashed across his mind, as if he were putting the pieces of a broken puzzle together. His voice, low and measured, broke the silence.

“Wait,” Toji said, his eyes narrowing as his gaze flicked over to you, and then back to Yuuta. “Is Maki still alive too?”

The question hung in the air like a curse, its implications darker than the growing shadows around you. Maki—another name tied to the tragedy of the woods. Maki had been part of the group that had ventured into the forest all those months ago. But she, like Yuuta, had disappeared. The last anyone had heard of her, she was lost—gone. The only thing left behind was an eerie sense of unfinished business.

Yuuta’s expression faltered, as if the question had unsettled him. His lips parted, and his eyes darted briefly to the cabin door, then to the corners of the room, as though he was searching for something—or someone.

“Maki…” Yuuta murmured, his voice distant. “She’s not here. Not yet. But she’ll come… she’ll find me, too.”

The way he said it made the hair on the back of your neck stand up, like a warning. Something about his words didn’t sit right.

Your mind raced. If Yuuta was speaking the truth, then the things you’d believed—the stories of the forest, the disappearances, the strange happenings—were all connected. Rika wasn’t just a tragic memory. She was still here. Still waiting. And Maki? Was she coming back too?

You felt a sickening knot twist in your stomach as the room seemed to grow colder, darker. It was as though the very walls of the cabin were closing in, and with them, the weight of the dark forces that had taken hold of Yuuta—and perhaps Maki as well—was only just beginning to reveal itself.

Sukuna’s voice was low, dangerous. “We need to know what’s going on, Yuuta. We need answers. You need to tell us everything.”

But Yuuta wasn’t listening. His gaze had already drifted to the shadows in the corner of the room, and his lips curled into that same, hollow smile.

“They’re coming,” Yuuta whispered, almost lovingly, as if he was waiting for a reunion. “I’ll be with her soon. We’ll all be together.”

And just like that, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The air grew heavy with anticipation, the tension rising to an unbearable level. It was as if Yuuta wasn’t the only one who had been waiting. The forest, the land, the darkness that surrounded you all—it was waiting too.

Yuuta’s words hung in the air, their weight too heavy to ignore. But then, without warning, a violent flash of white erupted between him and the three of you.

It was blinding—so bright that for a split second, everything else disappeared. The flickering light seemed to tear through the very fabric of reality, illuminating the corners of the cabin, every surface sparkling with a searing, unnatural glow.

And just like that—he was gone.

The flash dissipated as quickly as it had come, leaving nothing behind but an unsettling afterimage burned into your vision. The air was still and heavy, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire world had frozen.

Toji was the first to speak, his voice a harsh whisper. “What the hell just happened?” His hand instinctively reached for the knife at his side, his body tense, as though expecting something more to happen.

Sukuna gritted his teeth, his eyes flicking around the room. “That wasn’t normal,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. His usual smirk was gone, replaced with an uncharacteristic scowl. "A flash of light like that... That’s not something even he could pull off on his own."

The air felt thick with unease. It wasn’t just that Yuuta had disappeared—it was the sheer force of the flash, the suddenness of it. It was as though something had yanked him away from them with violent speed.

You glanced around, feeling the weight of the moment settle on your chest. The room felt colder now. The shadows in the corners seemed to stretch longer, more menacing. You tried to shake off the feeling, but your skin crawled as if something—or someone—was still watching you, even though Yuuta was no longer there.

Then, a low, ominous sound reverberated from somewhere deeper in the forest. It was a strange, hollow cry—distant but unmistakable. You didn’t need to ask who it belonged to.

Rika.

“She’s coming,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Your voice was thick with fear, and you couldn’t tell if it was your mind playing tricks on you or if you had actually heard her name in the wind.

Toji’s eyes darkened, his hand tightening around the hilt of his weapon. “We need to leave. Now.”

But before anyone could move, another flash of white lit up the cabin, not as violent as the first but just as chilling. This time, it was brief—like the faintest echo of a memory, and it left a lingering presence in its wake.

I NEED TO STOP WRITING THE CREEPY SHIT ILL GIVE MYSELF NIGHTMARES I SWEAR ON MY LIFE IT ENDS PEACFULLY AND SIMPLY Taglist is always open for anyone! Just comment, send an ask, or a DM and I'll add you! Sorry if I missed anyone!! Taglist: @tojislongshlong , @jaxawinchester , @ectomotive , @hishearttohave , @tojinxies , @imoutofpot , @book0fdr3ams ,@akaotv Perma Tags: @thenightperson , @makingtimemine

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #alpha sukuna #alpha toji #omega reader #omegaverse #a/b/o

51 notes · View notes

hairmetal666 · 1 year ago

Text

Between jobs and back home—Eddie's real home in Hawkins, Indiana—he works on repairing the trailer where he grew up with his uncle and fixes up the man’s old beater of a truck. He’s doing the latter when his phone pings with a notification he’s been waiting half his life for.

It’s the obituary for Richard Stephen Harrington IV, husband of Miriam and father of Stephen.

He knows the Harrington’s. Not personally. But they’re from Indianapolis, only about an hour away, so Eddie’s gathered intel on them for years. He knows that Richard Harrington was a Wall Street finance guy who struck it big and then got into real estate development. He knows that his company’s numbers don’t quite add up, that he came through the 2008 crash suspiciously unscathed. Probably the most important thing he knows about Richard Harrington, though, is that it was his company that put Eddie’s uncle out of a job during his freshman year of high school.

Harrington Holdings LLC bought the factory where Wayne worked with all kinds of pretty promises of making improvements and keeping it open. Within six months it was closed, and half a year later converted to a pharmaceutical research and production facility.

The Munsons weren’t doing great before Wayne was laid off, and after. Well, they could only afford the lot rent at Forest Hills with Eddie working part-time flipping burgers at the Burger Chef, and—when that wasn’t enough—supplementing by selling drugs to his classmates. Really takes a toll on the GPA when you work every weeknight and spend your weekends at parties peddling weed.

Anyway, fuck the Harringtons, is what he’s saying.

Coming your way this Saturday!

#wip wednesday #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #forever is the sweetest con #teaser #rivals to lovers #con man au #fuck the harringtons but literally #con man eddie munson #coming soon #ao3 #telling all the rich folks anything they want to hear

126 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 6 months ago

Text

Dozens of Consumer Finance Protection Bureau employees were terminated on Tuesday evening, sources tell WIRED.

The cuts largely targeted contractors and so-called probationary employees, workers who have served less than two years at the agency. Sources tell WIRED that the CFPB’s enforcement division was hit hard, but it’s unclear how many employees were let go.

Workers were informed that they had been fired with a frenetic email delivered around 9pm ET on Tuesday night. An evidently failed mail merge meant that some affected employees were addressed as [EmployeeFirstName][EmployeeLastName], [Job Title], [Division].

“This is to provide notification that I am removing you from your position of [Job Title] and federal service consistent with the above references,” the email from acting chief human capital officer Adam Martinez says. “Unfortunately, the Agency finds that that [sic] you are not fit for continued employment because your ability, knowledge and skills do not fit the Agency’s current needs.”

The firings follow a tumultuous few days at CFPB. On Friday, staff for Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency shut down a portion of the agency’s homepage after a day of struggling to obtain access to the CMS and other systems. WIRED reported last week that three DOGE staffers, including Gavin Kliger and Nikhil Rajpal were given access to CFPB’s HR, procurement, and financial infrastructure. The DOGE workers were later granted access to all of the agency’s systems on Friday, Bloomberg reported this week, including bank examination and enforcement records.

Later on Friday evening, Russell Vought—Trump’s newly confirmed director of the Office of Management and Budget—took over as the acting administrator for CFPB late Friday evening, as first reported by The Wall Street Journal. Soon after, DOGE staff began sending out email requests asking CFPB managers to give Kliger additional access to agency systems, including physical access control system, payroll processing systems, and the ability to edit the CFPB’s website, sources tell WIRED.

Just before 10:30pm ET on Friday, sources say someone who appeared to have administrative privileges, accessed the agency server using Secure Shell (SSH), a protocol that allows remote control of a computer over a network. Bypassing the content management system, they [unpublished] the homepage file, causing a portion of the CFPB homepage to display a “404: Page not found”, notice typical of a website that has been deleted or is otherwise missing. The remainder of the site was functional, including submission forms for industry whistleblowers and consumer complaints.

Around 11pm on Friday, the CFPB’s X account disappeared and shortly after, according to a CFPB staffer, DOGE left the building.

CFPB sources who spoke to WIRED described being blindsided by the DOGE staffers. "They said they would follow protocol but repeatedly did not," one says, noting that the level of access these staffers have could allow them to lock others out of the building, take down the website, and “obstruct the bureau’s ability to carry out its mandate.”

One source at CFPB on Friday says they saw two young DOGE staffers wandering through the halls of the building trying to open doors.

“DOGE pulled a Darth Vader in cloud city where they came in promising to respect our rules and ask for read access and then tonight [Friday] at 6 they took a heel turn and demanded website access,” another CFPB source told WIRED at the time.

In a pair of emails sent Saturday and Monday, Vought effectively ordered all work at the agency to stop, freezing various enforcement efforts and work on regulations that would affect payment programs run by Big Tech companies.

The CFPB has long been a target of both Elon Musk and conservatives more broadly; the Project 2025 chapter on financial regulatory agencies describes it as “a highly politicized, damaging, and utterly unaccountable federal agency” and calls to have it abolished. Musk wrote “RIP CFPB” with a gravestone emoji in an X post Friday afternoon. Last November, he posted “Delete CFPB.” There are around 1,700 employees in total at the agency.

The CFPB was established by the 2010 Dodd-Frank Act, a sweeping piece of legislation that imposed significant regulatory reform in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis. Its remit is to protect consumers from unfair or deceptive financial practices, and the agency claims to be responsible for $19.7 billion in consumer relief since its inception, as well as $5 billion in civil penalties.

Some of those wins have come against payment processors including Block, which was ordered to pay a total of $175 million in penalties last month for allegedly failing to sufficiently protect users of its Cash App from fraud. CFPB also has an active lawsuit against JPMorgan Chase, Bank of America, and Wells Fargo for similar alleged failures on their shared payment app Zelle. Elon Musk will soon be in the peer-to-peer payments business as well, after X entered a partnership with Visa in late January.

13 notes · View notes

yooglefics · 2 months ago

Text

(o・・o)/ 𖹭

Hi, long time not read!

Life got a bit crazy out of nowhere and well, an unexpected hiatus was unavoidable and necessary. I'm sorry I disappeared without a warning, it was totally unplanned and as the days passed it just felt a bit awkward to come back. It was nice getting notifications still, I appreciate you all and your feedback so much, but I guess I wasn't ready to come back ?? :/

So, that was meant to be the short version, but we all know I love to yap and over explain, so here I go haha

December got overwhelming. I was already kind of in a writer's block back then, but I got genuinely excited about the December Collab with Kay ( still think Min Yun-Kay is the best thing ever haha ), and I wrote pretty much all of it in time. And then, I crashed out. I couldn't finish it, my muse was gone. I don't really know what happened.

I got off the internet for a while. Did some craft projects.

At the beginning of the year I thought I was coming back, not only to the internet but to “being me” again. And then… my sewing machine broke. And you are all thinking: what does that have to do with anything?. Well, I got so stressed and sad about it, I got deep into depression for a few weeks.

I know it sounds dramatic, believe me, but I had planned so many sewing projects for this year and then I couldn't even do the February one ( yes, it was APT. related lol ) because my machine didn't work and I didn't have money to fix or replace it. It was so frustrating 😣

And here is the thing. I had even planned projects related to fics, characters and yoongi. I was excited to do them and share them with you, so the fact that I couldn't complete them either made me feel so disappointed and sad.

So, I took a longer break.

But things started to look better last month. I got new meds ( yay, antidepressants! ), I like my new psychiatrist ( yay, good medics! ), and I focused back into selling clothes online and my little shop actually grew!

I don't know if you remember, but I mentioned in the past about looking for a job and sending apps, well the market is still f-ed and I still don't have one, but the shop is being helpful to not make me go completely insane about financial instability ( lack of financial at all? ) . I also started to help with publicity for a flower shop ( flower shop au, anyone? 👀 ) and that will help to finance my new sewing machine! I'm so excited!! My sister helped me with the payment so is gonna be here next week, I just have to pay her back through small and easy payments haha but omg! I'm genuinely so excited and I feel it's one of the final puzzle pieces into getting my life back together.

One of them, since another one is getting back into writing, of course.

During the last few weeks I started to write again with a friend, I feel like bouncing with another person ( and mostly this one friend ) always helps me realize how much I enjoy writing and thinking about my characters and all their little worlds. So, I'm inspired to come back here, write and yap about the Casual guys and the guys with the cat and just everything!

This is also a public apology to Kay ( friend, the chat thing isn't working and my messages don't send ;_; ), for not completing the collab until half a year later ( I'm genuinely so sorry and embarrassed ) and an invitation for you ( in case you haven't read it ) to check out “A Christmas Encore" , I'm late to it, but I've been thinking about it since she first sent me her idea for the plot asdf

So. Let's hope all this energy and excitement to create again, stay for a good while ♡

P.S. : maybe my inspiration is back because Yoongi is back? 🥺

#( yapping. )

6 notes · View notes

sarkariresultdude · 1 month ago

Text

Step-by-Step Strategy to Ace the Probationary Officer Exam"

A Probationary Officer (PO) is one of the most sought-after positions within the Indian banking sector. Often visible as the gateway to a strong and prestigious career in banking, this role combines economic responsibility, customer service, and managerial obligations. For many graduates, becoming a PO represents not only a task, but the start of a lifelong profession route packed with increase, respect, and possibilities.

Probationary Officer exam

Who is a Probationary Officer?

A Probationary Officer is an access-level managerial function in public and personal area banks. As the name shows, a PO is on probation — commonly for a period of 1 to 2 years — all through which they go through in depth schooling and are assessed for his or her overall performance and capacity. After effectively finishing the probation length, the PO is showed as an Assistant Manager and entrusted with greater massive obligations.

The position is dynamic, multifaceted, and entails working in diverse departments of a bank to benefit a holistic expertise of operations, customer support, finance, and administration.

Key Responsibilities of a Probationary Officer

The obligations of a PO can also vary depending at the financial institution, however the core duties include:

1. Customer Service

P.O.S handle client queries, clear up grievances, and offer steerage on banking products such as savings bills, loans, credit cards, and so forth. Ensuring client satisfaction is a middle a part of the role.

2. Account Management

They oversee the hole and protection of consumer money owed, ensuring all documentation and techniques are observed accurately.

Three. Loan Processing

P.O.S assist in evaluating loan programs, acting heritage exams, and processing disbursements. Over time, they may study to evaluate credit chance.

Four. Cash and Transaction Handling

Though in large part a clerical characteristic, P.O.S can also be required to manage high-price cash transactions or oversee branch-level monetary operations.

Five. Marketing and Business Development

They may be accountable for promoting financial services and products, growing financial institution deposits, and obtaining new clients.

6. Supervision and Staff Management

Once showed, they frequently supervise clerical body of workers, make certain easy everyday operations, and coordinate between departments.

Why Choose a Career as a Probationary Officer?

The PO role offers numerous blessings that make it attractive for aspirants throughout India:

✅ Job Security

Most PO positions are in government or semi-government banks, offering brilliant job balance and pension benefits.

✅ Attractive Salary and Perks

Along with a first rate starting salary (normally ₹35,000–₹45,000/month together with allowances), P.O.S enjoy perks like housing allowance, scientific blessings, tour allowances, and more.

✅ Structured Growth

Banking careers have a clean promotional shape. From PO to Assistant Manager to Branch Manager and beyond, promotions are based totally on advantage and revel in.

✅ Learning and Exposure

P.O.S get publicity to all banking departments, getting to know everything from loans and customer support to compliance and finance.

✅ Nationwide Opportunities

Banking jobs are spread throughout the u . S ., supplying the risk to paintings in numerous regions and meet a numerous set of clients.

Eligibility Criteria

To apply for a PO post, applicants normally need to satisfy the following standards:

Educational Qualification: A bachelor's diploma in any area from a diagnosed college.

Age Limit: Typically among 20 to 30 years (age relaxations follow for SC/ST, OBC, and PwD categories).

Nationality: Indian residents (or subjects as specified in legitimate notifications).

How to Become a Probationary Officer

Becoming a PO calls for clearing competitive checks, which take a look at a candidate’s flair, reasoning, popular attention, and English skills.

✅ Top Exams for PO Positions:

IBPS PO – Conducted by way of the Institute of Banking Personnel Selection for a couple of public zone banks.

SBI PO – Held separately by the State Bank of India, one of the maximum prestigious exams.

Private Bank POs – Institutions like ICICI Bank and Axis Bank conduct their very own recruitment via PGDBF (Post Graduate Diploma in Banking & Finance) applications.

RBI Grade B – Though no longer precisely a PO, it's any other rewarding role in principal banking, barely greater aggressive.

Exam Pattern (IBPS/SBI PO)

The examination is conducted in 3 ranges:

1. Preliminary Exam

English Language

Quantitative Aptitude

Reasoning Ability

2. Main Exam

Reasoning & Computer Aptitude

Data Analysis & Interpretation

General Economy & Banking Awareness

English Language

Descriptive Test (Essay & Letter Writing)

three. Interview

Conducted by using a panel to assess personality, verbal exchange, and expertise of banking ideas.

Clearing all three stages is essential to be shortlisted for the final advantage listing.

Tips to Crack the PO Exam

Start Early and Plan Smart: Allocate devoted time for every situation and observe a realistic schedule.

Practice Mock Tests: Regular mock checks simulate the real check environment and enhance time control.

Read Newspapers Daily: Stay updated on banking and financial news to do well in the General Awareness phase and interviews.

Strengthen Basics: Build sturdy fundamentals in math, English grammar, and logical reasoning.

Use Online Platforms: Leverage apps, YouTube channels, and guides that provide updated content material and examination strategies.

Life After Selection

Once selected, a PO undergoes extensive schooling at the financial institution’s education center, accompanied with the aid of on-the-activity rotations across various branches and departments.

After a hit of completion of probation, the officer is confirmed as an Assistant Manager and assigned to a everlasting posting. From here, overall performance, experience, and in addition certifications (like JAIIB/CAIIB) determine promotions.

Career Growth and Promotions

A PO can rise through the ranks primarily based on advantage:

Assistant Manager

Deputy Manager

Branch Manager

Assistant General Manager

Deputy General Manager

General Manager

Chief General Manager

Executive Director

Chairman & Managing Director (in uncommon cases)

In addition, opportunities for foreign postings, professional roles (like treasury, forex, IT), and deputation to other authorities our bodies (like SEBI or RBI) also are to be had.

Challenges within the Role

While the PO function is worthwhile, it comes with its demanding situations:

Transfers and Relocations: Frequent transfers can disrupt personal lifestyles, particularly in public quarter banks.

Work Pressure: Targets for loans and account openings may be traumatic.

Customer Handling: Dealing with hard clients or large footfalls in rural regions may be taxing.

Regulatory Compliance: Officers need to make sure strict adherence to RBI and bank policies.

Bank PO Prelims Results

#college students #government exam #private bank #government bank

2 notes · View notes

lolitastories · 1 year ago

Text

GHOST

Javier Pena x Reader

Chapter 4

The day I got into the vehicle with those guys I thought it was my last day on earth. It was stupid to have Pena waiting incase they took me to some remote place to drop my body. I bang my head thinking about it in the car. Thankfully I was actually going back to my work place. I set up the phone I was speaking with a trusted member of the cartel. They told me Escobar would be traveling back to Colombia from Panama. To move some money around because they would have to pay people. I connected the dots knowing well enough that they would be coming back for war.

“He wouldn’t start a war now” Diego cleans his glasses and refills my cups. “He missed home, to soon to start something”

“Tell that to the money he is moving around. That is not the strategy of someone who is going to relax when he sets foot back home” I shake my head trying to figure out and put pieces together. “He is going to want to keep pushing extradication off.”

“They already denied their request. The ambassador and the military are focused on the police and military and some communist” He groans not hiding his dislike.

“Who gives a fuck about any of them” I roll my eyes wishing this shot was actually straight tequila. “Tell me something good”

“Murphy and Pena have an unknown informant and might lose their job for it” Now that is news. Before he could continue I got a notification on my phone. This is even greater news. “Haven’t seen that smile in a long time”

“You’re about to see more of it” I put my phone away downing the shot of water. “They siezed their accounts.”

“So you get to go home too” I shake my head. This will never be home but I am still happy to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

“I will be here tomorrow. Things are going to go down fast and I need more intel. Get a hold of Pena and tell him to meet me in the back. Escobar will have a plan by tonight” And I was right. Later that night Colombians hope was shot dead. A couple bullets below his bulletproof vest and in a couple minutes he was dead. The crowd mourned him and as they held a funeral his second hand fell into power. Galan promised to get rid of the narcos but Gaviria had another look in his eyes. I am not saying he is crooked but who knows nowadays.

“Going home late again?” One of my colleagues stopped at my desk. “You have been killing yourself these past weeks. Why don’t you come out with us friday?” I shake my head.

“Can’t” I motion to all the files I had to go through. It wasn’t for that certain client but for me. I need to find connections with the people I am looking for.

“Think about it. You have my number” She smiled, putting on her coat and walking out. As soon as she left I got back to work. Numbers don’t add up on the certain date I was looking at but what difference was that? None of them added up. That's why Pablo bought his people, so they would make it make sense. I should have been here at the beginning but I was following the wrong lead. Now I am doubting myself about Pablo, what if he has nothing to do with it? I close up the books and say goodbye to the rest who are working. It was sunset as I walked into the bar.

“Early tonight?” I smile at Miguel.

“Tomorrow is friday, I thought I would celebrate early” I thank him sitting in my regular spot with my drink already prepared.

“So not working late tomorrow?” Who knows. “Becuase I was thinking I could take the night off and-”

“Lola! You’re early today” Diego came from the back giving me a signal. “I am taking my break” He nudges Miguel with a small laugh then extends his hand towards me. “I need your help on my finance real quick”

“Thankfully I haven’t started drinking” I laugh along while walking around the bar and into the back.

“He is nice, are you going to accept?” I turned my head weirded out by that question. “What? Just test the waters or a stress reliever!” I shake my head with a smile. We got to the back room and Murphy was standing there.

“Y/N” It was nice to see him again. “Pena couldn’t make it. We are dealing with something” He looks back not wanting to say anything infront of Diego before he walks out.

“Let me guess, your informant” I grin, taking a seat on the couch.

“Yeah” He falls back spreading himself on the couch. “He is going to get us fired and all for a couple of nights of warming the bed”

“He slept with her?” I said it a little too fast causing a look from Steve.

“He hasn’t denied it but his reputation follows him” Of course. “He is getting her fake papers to protect her”

“Listen” I sit up trying to change the subject. “He has got 2 million dollars in a briefcase right now. They already took Galan out and more money like that in there hands they are going to take out many more”

“As you know he stepped back on home soil” I nod. “He sent a note to Gaviria, either leave them alone or go to war”

“Has your informat said anything?”

“She spoke about the M19. Pablo meeting up with him or talking. But she showed up at Connie’s job asking to be hidden. She fight for the people and not the help the narcos”

“Apparently” I whisper, shaking my head.

“Apparently” He repeats with a chuckle. “How are you doing?” I shrugg quickly before groaning. I stood up fixing my clothes.

“Could be better” I laughed before looking back. “I need you to look into something” I grab a paper from my bag and hand it over to him. “Keep it quiet. The ambassador knows about it but no one else should”

“Does this have to do with Pablo?” I shake my head forcefully before closing my eyes.

“I don’t know. That it what I am trying to figure out”

“How bad is it?” who knows.

“Crooked information. New labs overseas. Cartels working together. What's one druglord down if the others learn from their mistakes and become harder to catch?”

“Anything else?” He placed the paper in his pocket. I wanted to tell him what I had in mind. If everything goes down in a couple days or even tonight, there are a lot of ifs and whats and never a sure plan.

“No” I smile before turning around and leaving. Later that night I twist and turn. There wasn’t much to do tomorrow so I decided to call in sick. I needed to talk to Diego again. I walk into the bar and wave at Miguel. “Diego in?”

“In the back” The bar was empty and as I walked confidently towards the back all that went away quickly.

“I need more information than that” The sight wasn’t what I was prepared for this morning. I grab my gun from the holster I hand on my leg hidden by my dress. I pass by fast trying to look around. There seem to be only two men in there. Diego’s hands were tied together and his face bruised up. I looked around making sure no one else was back here. The only way was through the curtains so there was no way to surprise them.

“Diego?” I walk in with a hand behind my back. I act shocked by the men standing there.

“Miss” They were the same guys who stalked me outside my window. “You shouldn’t be here” He sets his gun down and walks forward in motion for me to get out. I wait until he is close enough to grab his hand and with a flip a gun is pointed at his head.

“Put the gun down” The man's eyes showed no mercy. He pulled on the safety but I took the first shot.

“You bitch!” He screamed holding on to his leg.

“You can still walk, untie him” I let go of the man and walked over to remove the guns away from them while pointing at them with mine.

“The boss will be after you when he hears you are working with the DEA agents that came in here” I look over to Diego who was massaging his wrist.

“More are coming. You need to leave” I nod quickly making sure he had the upper hand and ran out of there. I sent Miguel home and just as I was going to walk out I saw another group of men walking in.

“Wait. You need to come with us” One man warns, moving his hands slows towards his back. Two gunshots were heard and I took that as a chance to start running. I go around the corner to an alley and into an abandoned building. I take a moment to think before my feet continue without any direction. I don’t know if they were still following me but I continued on running. My lungs were burning and my legs didn’t feel like my own. I couldn’t be seen walking into the police station or the DEA.

“Fuck!” I scream looking inbetween streets. I don’t know any of these streets. “Can I use your phone?” I say casually walking into a store

“Of course it's in the back” I tell him thanks and move faster to pull the phone. “I need to talk to the ambassador” I tell whoever is on the other side not waiting for their introduction.

“You will need an appointment or-”

“This is Agent L/N. I don’t need an appointment because I will be dead! So if you would be so kind as to get me connected to the Ambassador I would really appreciate it.” I speak urgently.

“As I was saying, the Ambassador is out. You could leave-”

“Connect me to Agent Murphy or Pena!” I wanted to pull my arm through the phone and choke her.

“They are busy-”

“You know what they will be busy with? Finding a new secretary! Get me someone before I get a chance to personally get there and drag you by your stupid-”

“Woah” I hear a man's voice on the other side. “Is that how you say hello?”Murphy laughs

“I need your help Steve. Diego is in trouble and I need you to send someone to the bar” I hear papers fumble on the other side before he is back to the phone

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know where I am. I need somewhere to hide”

“Wait. Give me a minute” Of course. Fucking hell. I look back hoping those men didn’t continue to follow me. I hear only static on the other side before 5 minutes go by. “Pablo took over the Supreme court with the help of M19. Burned everything we had on them” Another couple curse words follow before he continues talking. “I am going to give you an address. Grab the first taxi and someone will meet you there”

“Okay”

“I will be there as soon as I can” I know that means it would be hours.

Chapter 5

#javier pena smut #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena narcos #javier peña smut #javier peña #javier pena x y/n #narcos #steve murphy #pedro pascal

9 notes · View notes

samkat10423 · 1 year ago

Text

Monty Theater

When the Montys lost their chance to have the Capp's beloved Globe Theater razed, and then had to look at that plaque praising their arch-enemies for being 'true patrons of the arts,' it sent Patrizio into a major snit. (It was about this time that the Globe strip mall, owned by the Capps, mysteriously burnt to the ground). It also spurred him into financing the construction of a movie theater for the town. And this is it:

The building is where the original Riverview theater was located. For this build, I used one of My Sims Realty's builds. And because theirs was on a smaller lot, I was able to add the small bookstore on the left side of the build and do all the new landscaping.

Anyway, this is the ground level. There was a basement in their build, but I got rid of it. The bookstore was created mostly because I deleted EA's and needed someplace to put my rug. It's very basic - and I know it looks pretty empty, but I hate getting all those notifications that some stupid sim got themselves stuck again. Although, since that new mod came out, I haven't been getting them.

Anyway, this level has the bookstore, a small area where sims can get drinks and food before the show, and a theater with the rug in that waiting area. I also used that object from the cinema set that makes sims pay to watch a movie. As you can see, most sims in this town are super cheap.

Then, upstairs is a place where sims can dance, play some pool, and try their hand at karaoke.

And since I get tired of all the homeless sims wandering about, I built this set of townhouses right across the canal from the theater. I placed another version of this lot over where that Prudence Shelby sim used to live. And finally, my island area is done! I spent the rest of the game, killing sims and setting up relationships. It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

#sims 3 #veronaville #thanks to My Sims Realty

10 notes · View notes

aajjks · 7 months ago

Note

sorry to keep you waiting 🍼

TPOL!JK

“what about your living situation? you don’t plan on living with your mother forever, do you?” yerin asks after siping her iced coffee. “of course not,” you respond as you poke and pick apart the blueberry muffin. “i’m on a waitlist for a couple of apartments,” and it wasn’t cheap, but you’ve been keeping a close eye on the notifications on your phone, praying that one of them will be an opening for a two beds and two baths apartment. “you can just live with me,” alina offers, but you’re worried that her relationship with eunwoo will put you in a compromising position. “i don’t want to burden you, though,” you respond, but alina disagrees. “you aren’t a burden, y/n. plus, you won’t have to wear hundreds of layers since i already know about your pregnancy.” you sigh and agree to live with alina until you can find a sustainable job with good pay to finance you and your baby.

“quit being stubborn, y/n,” alina lightly pokes your shoulder, putting a small smile on your face. “let us help you,” she says, and you know alina is right. part of you blames yourself for being so content in a lifestyle that made you forget how to take care of yourself, but it won’t happen again.

you were fine before you met jungkook, and you’ll be fine without him.

•••

the aroma of delicious spices and steaming food hits your nostrils as you walk through the halls of your mother’s home. pictures of your childhood hang on the walls, revealing some of your happiest memories that you recall to this day. “y/n? that you?” you hear your mother ask, her voice coming from the kitchen as the sound of your footsteps comes closer and closer.

you hum in response and greet your mother with a bright smile. “what are you making?” you ask as you lean closer to get a whiff of the boiling pan on the hot stove. “spicy kimchi stew,” she says as she takes her spoon to stir the ingredients before giving you a look before saying, “you probably can’t eat this.” you give your mother the same look and say, “why can’t i? are you catering again?” she shakes her head and puts the spoon aside.

“i did the same when i was pregnant with you”

~🫧

The smell of kimchi jjigae lingers in the air as your mother moves quietly around the kitchen, her movements steady and deliberate.

Jungkook stands near the doorway, watching you silently as you enter. He steps forward, his expression unreadable at first, though the intensity in his eyes betrays his emotions.

“Yn.”

His voice is low but commanding, immediately drawing your attention. His gaze is fixed on you, unflinching and dark.

As you turn toward him, his jaw tightens, and his hands press into his coat pockets, as if trying to steady himself.

He takes another step closer, his movements deliberate.

Your mother pauses, glancing at the two of you before returning her focus to the simmering stew on the stove.

Jungkook exhales sharply, his frustration evident as he shakes his head slightly, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.

“You think you can just leave?” he says, his voice laced with disbelief and quiet anger. “After everything—everything—I’ve done for you? For us?”

His tone grows harsher, though he keeps it low out of respect for your mother’s presence.

He rubs his hand over his face, his composure slipping momentarily.

You are breaking him.

“I gave you the world, yn. Anything you wanted, you had it. And this—this is how you repay me?” His voice cracks slightly, the frustration spilling into desperation.

“I want you back.”

Jungkook’s eyes dart to your mother for a brief moment, as if seeking an ally, but her calm demeanor remains unchanged. He refocuses on you, his gaze sharpening.

“I’m disappointed,” he continues, his tone hardening. “I thought I knew you. I thought you were different.”

He steps even closer now, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “But you’re running from the best thing you’ll ever have.”

Your mother clears her throat softly, breaking the tension in the air. Jungkook straightens, his polished demeanor momentarily returning as he turns toward her.

“Eomeoni,” he says, his voice softening slightly, though his frustration lingers. “I don’t know what she’s told you, but I love her. I’ve done everything for her. And now… she’s gone.”

Your mother says nothing, her expression neutral as she continues preparing the food.

Jungkook lets out a slow, steady breath, glancing back at you. His eyes linger on your frame, his gaze trailing over your every movement with unsettling precision.

“I won’t let you throw this away,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. His voice carries a chilling conviction, his words a quiet promise.

“We were perfect together before all of this shit happened!! Please baby..”

The tension is palpable as Jungkook takes another measured step back, his hands now clenched at his sides. He says nothing more, simply staring at you for a long, charged moment before turning to your mother once again.

“Please princess come back to me..” it comes out broken, he’s looking at you desperately, he’s so mesmerized by your face and he doesn’t notice your clothes.

“Thank you for your time, eomeoni,” he says, his tone polite but strained. “I’ll be in touch.”

With that, he adjusts his coat and heads toward the door, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you one last chance to stop him.

“Yknow? Your mother knows…. About everything— you were never going to tell her about this right? The real fucking reason about why you left me?”

#ask: tpol!jungkook #holy shit #It’s OK Bestie as long as you update now I know the life can get busy but we miss you

2 notes · View notes