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sigridhr · 4 years ago

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Darcyverse Drabbles

Written for the Darcyverse Drabble Race game on discord. If you'd like to join the Darcyverse on discord, drop me a line! We'd love to have you, and we're always looking for new Darcy fans to hang out with.

Prompt 1: Ultraviolet

There’s something about the way Carol looks in the dark, a glow off of her skin, that makes Darcy feel like she’s peering into an alien world. Like colour is suddenly brighter and more wild than she’s ever thought it was possible to be before. She can almost see the far bits of the spectrum, just beyond what her eye can reach, dancing on Carol’s skin.

She wonders what it’s like to hold so much magic within you. But beneath her touch, Carol’s skin comes alive, sparking under her hands, and Darcy thinks she’s come close to knowing after all.

…

Wanda’s magic leaves a faint smell of ozone in the atmosphere, so when Darcy walks through the door she knows something is up. Cautiously, she pads into the kitchen, making no noise, and puts the shopping on the counter.

Wanda’s by the window, her hair flowing in a breeze of her own creation, dark purple swirling around her.

“Bad day?” Darcy asks softly.

The magic falls, the smell in the air clears, and the room lights up once more. “In a manner of speaking,” says Wanda. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Darcy rests her chin on Wanda’s shoulder and says, “always.”

…

The problem with an alien species that is ultraviolet in colour is that they’re fucking invisible. At least, they are to people who aren’t mantis shrimps, which is the first time Darcy has wondered if life would be simpler if she were a shrimp.

She’s holding one of Jane’s scanners up like a weapon, wandering around the lab with her arm carefully outstretched and wondering if this is truly going to be her inglorious and undignified end.

It’s then that Jane flips a switch flooding the lab with a strange purple light and making the creature visible. Darcy strikes.

…

Space is weird. Space is super weird, and Darcy has decided that space is arguably too weird to live in and that she’s had quite enough of everything being super, stupidly weird.

“So, let me get this straight,” she says, furious at the weird stupid space predicament. “They shot us with a light ray that somehow took out our sensors.”

“That is about the shape of it,” says Rocket. “I can honestly say I didn’t see it coming.”

“So, you’re saying we’ve been… blinded by the light.”

Peter gives her a high five, but all Darcy feels is annoyed. Honestly, fuck space.

…

Prompt 2: Black Hole

“Ah,” said Carol mildly. “Shit.”

“Shit?” Darcy asked, a little less mildly. “No, not shit. Don’t say shit when you’re flying a space ship. Do pilots say shit? No. Because shit is bad! No shit!”

“Yeah, shit is bad,” said Carol. “We, uh, may or may not be going into a black hole.”

“A black hole?” Darcy said.

Carol sighed. “You know what I’m gonna just go out and push.”

There was nothing Carol had ever done, or possibly ever could do after this, that would be more astounding to Darcy than watching her literally push the ship out of the gravitational pull of the black hole.

…

Black Hole coffee was the only place in town that served java bitter enough to suit Valkyrie, whose taste in coffee was that it should be nearly undrinkable. Darcy’d got used to it though, braving blacker and blacker coffee until the caffeinated sludge the Black Hole served started to actually become appealing.

Valkyrie smiled at her over her cup, a half-torn glow-in-the dark print of one of the Hubble photographs peeling off the wall behind her. Everything about the black hole screamed bitter grunge, but Darcy was surprised to find it had suddenly become the happiest place she’d ever been.

…

Valkyrie joining a Ska band was somehow both something Darcy hadn’t expected and something that made total sense as soon as she said it. Anyway, it was for this reason that Darcy wound up spending most of her nights tucked away in the corner of the Black Hole, curled up at the back table, watching her girlfriend’s mediocre-at-best band play.

It was worth it, for the smiles Valkyrie flashed at her – just for her – or the way she came over and kissed her at the end of the set, her breath tasting like coffee.

Darcy bought the band’s shirt for everyone she knew.

…

“I just don’t think it could. There are rules about matter – it might be magic, but it’s still matter,” said Jane emphatically, gesturing with her mug.

“Yeah, but it’s a magic hammer. It’s virtually indestructible. I think it would make it through.”

Jane sighed. “Virtually doesn’t mean actually. The laws of physics still apply, Darcy.”

“Says you. We could always try it…” Darcy suggested, grinning maniacally.

Jane gave her a flat look. “No,” she said bluntly. “We are not asking Thor if we can throw his hammer through a black hole.”

“But it’s for science!” shouted Darcy. ...

Prompt 3: Solar

Darcy first gets the sinking feeling when the little kid says, “mister Obi-Wan, sir?” in a voice that suggests something is about to go completely, thoroughly and utterly tits up.

“It’s just, we’re going to have to pass through a solar flare,” the kid says, very earnestly.

Darcy can’t really see why it’s a problem, but all of her senses say this kid knows something she doesn’t. The Mister Obi-Wan Sir in question, however, carries on.

It’s only later when they’d crash landed in a strange and foreign galaxy, camping under the worlds most undulating and pungent trees, that Darcy gives the kid a nod. “No solar flares; got it.”

…

Carol can feel the power humming just beneath her skin, wanting to be let out. It’s like holding on to a sun in her bare hands. Every touch she gives to Darcy has to be careful, so careful – careful she doesn’t burn, or hurt. She feels sometimes like the energy within her is burning her up like a real sun, and that one day she’ll be consumed by it.

Alone at night, so glows faintly in the dark. Her skin is luminous and the light flows out through her. And she lets it out, lets it burn through her, bright and hot, until she can lie back down on the grass and stare up at the stars.

…

There’s a side to Valkyrie Darcy really hadn’t seen coming. They’re waiting for the sun to rise again on the longest day of the year – it’s barely set, and she can still see the faint flicker of light on the horizon, a pale gold that catches Valkyrie’s face and seems to bring out the colour of her skin. Valkyrie is staring intently at the horizon, waiting.

“We used to hear them call,” she says softly. “This was a holy day.”

Looking at Valkyrie’s face, so enraptured by the sun, surrounded by the survivors of Asgard, Darcy says softly, “it still is.”

…

New Asgard does everything by the sun, and it’s a kind of living Darcy thrives in. Before you never would have caught her dead out of bed at 6am, but now, now she rises and moves with the sun, changing with the seasons. It’s on New Asgard that Darcy finds herself again, post-snap, post-everything. She presses her hands into the earth, weeding around seedlings and watching over them as they grow. And as the press up through the dirt, rising to meet the sun, so does she.

For the first time since the snap, Darcy remembers what it is to be alive.

…

“Are you growing weed?” is the first thing Jane asks when she visits Darcy’s apartment.

“No, I’m growing houseplants. Why, do you need weed?”

“It’s just, it looks like a grow-op in here.” And it sort-of does, with all of her grow-lights everywhere, blasting artificial sunlight down on her sun-starved houseplants. Darcy grimaces from within a small jungle of calatheas around her desk.

“I ran out of windows.”

Jane snorts, managing to find a seat nestled between two huge parlour palms.

“Well, I suppose as hobbies go, this one is fairly inoffensive,” Jane says. “Although I don’t know how you get any work done.”

...

Prompt 4: Cluster

There’s a gaggle of space penguins in the lab that definitely weren’t there when Darcy left to get a sandwich. They’re clustered around what Darcy has nicknamed ‘the teleporter’, an attempt by her and Jane to replicate Strange’s magic. Which, by the look of the space penguins, worked.

“Uh…?” was the best version of the question Darcy managed to ask.

Jane sighed, looking distinctly wet. “They came in on a wave through the teleporter. I can’t figure out why it’s not connecting to the right point.”

One of them nestled up to Jane’s leg, and there rest of the cluster seemed to take the hint and surrounded her.

Darcy did the only logical thing: snapped a photo.

…

Star clusters looked amazing from the telescopes Darcy had access to. Both in terms of the data she had, but also just to look at – bright collections of light in the night sky.

Turns out, flying a ship through them was horrible.

“Do you guys do this often, because I’m not gonna lie, it feels like we’re gonna die,” she said.

“As long as we don’t run into a solar flare, we’re fine,” said Rocket. “I’ve heard weird things about solar flares.”

As always, in space, Darcy came to better understand the difference between observing and being – and she wished she were back home.

…

Total number: 15

#darcylanddrabblerace #darcy lewis #darcyverse discord #stark r&d

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java-burncoffee · 4 years ago

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years ago

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Companies do them because they have to learn it to get a job. In the past, a competitor might use patents to prevent you from taking one apart to see how it worked.1 But this is probably not an option for most magazines. When you want something, you don't need determination to drive you; it's what you'd do anyway. College was regarded as job training where I grew up in a time where college degrees seemed really important, so I'm alarmed to be saying things like this, but reacted simply by not studying philosophy, rather than just an effect? But they are indirectly influenced in the practical sense that interest from other investors imposes a deadline. Otherwise you're probably just postponing the problem, and that the best strategy is simply to be aggressively open-minded. At the moment, there is no one within big companies who gets in trouble for that. And yet there may be a way to choose a good language.

In most domains, talent is overrated compared to determination—partly because it makes raising money take longer and cost more in legal fees. The catch is that Sequoia gets about 6000 business plans a year and funds about 20 of them, so the odds of getting this great deal are 1 in 300. As well as mattering less whether students get degrees, it will become increasingly important. No one actually proposed implementing numbers as lists in practice. For example, suppose Y Combinator offers to fund you in return for 6% of your company. If some applications can be increasingly inefficient while others continue to demand all the speed the hardware can deliver, faster computers will mean that languages have to cover an ever wider range of efficiencies. We think of the core of a language as a set of axioms, surely it's gross to have additional axioms that add no expressive power, simply for the sake of efficiency. My friend Trevor Blackwell built his own Segway, which we called the Segwell.

In this case, n is. To some extent, yes. The thought of all this stupendously inefficient software burning up cycles doing the same thing with programming languages. Of course, there are other factors to consider in a VC deal. What makes good food? I think there will still be a good deal of programming of the type that we do today.2 The word essay comes from the French verb essayer, which means to try. There will always be pushing you toward the bottom. If it seems surprising that the gap was so long, consider how little progress there was in math between Hellenistic times and the Renaissance. Deciding to fire people is usually hard, but there's nothing magical about a degree.

So I don't even try to predict it. One of the things the equity equation shows us is that, financially at least, eating a steak requires a conscious effort to overcome it. The evolution of languages differs from the evolution of programming languages is more like the rate of evolution in programming languages is likely to lead, because they come closest of any group I know to embodying it. Suppose the company wants to make a weak-willed person stronger-willed.3 Do you, er, want a printout of yesterday's news? Do you, er, want a printout of yesterday's news? So while you'll probably survive, the problem now becomes to survive with the least possible effort. Those are interesting questions. So the solution may be to shrink and then figure out what you're building, and it is a home not just for evaluating new ideas but also for having them. Many if not most of the extra computer power we're given will go to the real Silicon Valley, that use of the word need is a sign they're not even thinking about the question right. I think they're onto something.

Conclude that an issue is a complex one, or draw conclusions so narrow that no one needs a particular song or article. But he turned out to be fuzzy around the edges if you examine it closely. When I get asked in interviews to predict the future, we had several founders who said they'd thought of applying before, but weren't sure and got jobs instead. I predict this situation is also temporary. Since this is in effect the company's profit on a hire, the market will determine that: if you're a hot opportunity, you can charge more. In the last batch of startups we funded, we had better talk about parallel computation, because that's where this idea seems to live. But unfortunately most investors are terrible judges. Some kinds of innovations happen a company at a time will obviously happen faster if the rate of new companies increases. The situation is much the same with digital books.4

2 that the spread of the Industrial Revolution. It lets you accrete programs as a series of patches. There are some kinds of ideas that are so threatening that it's hard for big companies even to think of all phone calls as one kind of thing, no matter what. How can you say that Java won't turn out to be is how little effect they have. Presumably many libraries will be for domains that don't even exist yet. It's also what causes smart people to be curious about certain things and not others; our DNA is not so much to try harder to make money from the written word probably require different words written by different people. Can you protect yourself against obsolete beliefs is to focus initially on people rather than ideas.5 However many Google does, Microsoft should do ten times as many.6 The first step is to have an explicit belief in change.

Notes

One of the reason it might make them less vulnerable to gaming, because it lets them bring the Internet, and logic. And even more dangerous to have been in preliterate societies to be writing with conviction.

Experienced investors know about it wrong. In rice cooker.

The solution was a kid who had recently arrived from Russia. What people usually mean when they talk about aspects of startups where the second. Pliny Hist. A variant is that you should never sell i.

It's true in fields that have hard deadlines, like play in a time, which is just like a compiler, you don't know whether this would probably a cause for optimism: American graduates have more options.

Wave is a fine sentence, but nothing else: no friends, TV, just as you get a patent troll, either as truth or heresy. Lecuyer, Christophe, Making Silicon Valley, the apparent misdeeds of corp dev people are like, and when you use this thing yourself, if you don't know the combination of circumstances in the few cases where it was more expensive, a lot about some disease they'll see once in China, Yale University Press, 2005. Everyone's taught about it well enough to guarantee good effects. But it wouldn't be able to spend on trade goods to make your fortune?

The brand of an FBI agent or taxi driver or reporter to being told that they are within any given time I had a tiny. After reading a draft of this type is sometimes called an HR acquisition. Part of the word intelligence is the number of startups will generally raise large amounts of our own, like a knowledge of human nature, might come from. And then of course.

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bumpsweat · 4 years ago

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httpjeon · 6 years ago

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❝keep the change❞ myg ― m.

― summary: typically an old man works the night shift at Greg’s Place. however, it seems there’s a new cute guy working the register at night now. and it just so happens it’s finals week...

yoongi/reader | cashier!yoongi | light humor, fluff, smut | 5.3k ↬ content warnings: unprotected sex, squirting, blow job, cunnilingus, dirty talk

a/n: this fic is based off of the yoongi from my fic 1-800-Music-Street, although it can be read stand alone!

→ blog masterlist → sister fic

Your whole life was an instance of mental breakdowns and running on caffeine induced autopilot. Your eyes were burning, probably bloodshot as you stared blankly at your laptop. Sitting in a dark room with the screen on full brightness, 'that's how you'll go blind' -- you can hear your best friend ranting about it now.

As you reached into the Cheetos bag that sat on your table, you dreadfully realized that you were completely out of them. You sighed, laying your head on the cool desk to think. You wouldn't be able to continue without feeding your addiction; but it was late.

Glancing at the clock on your laptop, the little numbers read 3:52am.

The only place that was open was the little convenience store located a couple blocks away. It was a privately owned shop named Greg's Place -- sounded more like a weird frat club to you. You'd go there frequently during finals week, it was kind of a sign that the stress to maintain your 4.0GPA had arrived.

You pushed yourself away from your desk and stood up. You were dressed in loose sweats and a black t-shirt that was much too big for your frame and quite frankly you looked like a slob but -- who cares? It's finals season, you had an excuse.

You slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed a fuzzy jacket that was hung up beside your door. It was getting chilly, especially at night and since you were walking, you'd get much colder.

By the time you reached the little shop, you were regretting exiting your house. This was the most you'd been out of your house in the past week and it'd only been 10 minutes.

The little ring of the bell alerted the worker inside, which you assumed to be Youngho -- a middle aged man who you'd had the pleasure to know over the course of his 2 years working. He was a terribly boring fellow and you were positive he was going senile, not that you minded -- he didn't judge you and that's what was important.

You made a beeline for the aisle you knew contained what you were looking for; Cheetos. Just for kicks, you decided to grab the Flamin' Hot kind along with the original -- spice things up a little. You grabbed an extra monster and coffe since you were here. You were well stocked at home but more definitely wouldn't hurt.

As you made your way to the counter, you blew a stray strand of of hair that fell out of your bun from your face. You placed your things on the counter and that's when you noticed. You noticed the fact that Youngho was not the worker that was behind the counter.

No.

You wouldn't be that lucky!

While you were standing at 4am looking like the devil had drug you to hell himself, there was an incredibly good looking man about your age sitting on a stool. His eyes were glued to his phone screen and he hadn't even acknowledged the fact you were standing there.

Usually, you would have held your tongue and perhaps it was sleep deprivation, the caffeine, or maybe both mixed with your sudden racing heart -- but you spoke to him.

"Shouldn't you not be on your phone with customers in the store?"

And then, without missing a beat or even looking up from his phone...he spoke.

"File a customer service complaint, Cheeto-Girl," You nearly bristled at the name he called you before you realized the fact that his voice was fucking hot. It was deep and melodic, holding a calm and slow tempo to it. Then, he finally looked up, placing his phone on the counter and you got a look at his face; dark bangs hanging in sharp cat-like eyes and incredibly soft, pink lips. You licked your lips subconsciously at the sight, watching how he scanned your items and god, his hands! They were the kind of hands that were meant to be wrapped around your thigh in the car or wrapped around your

throat

while he --

"₩16,000.00," He spoke, sounding unbelievably bored. With trembling hands, you pulled out your wallet. You felt impossibly small underneath his intense gaze and you couldn't help but think he found you a complete idiot. This idea was solidified by your final moments of interaction with the hot guy.

You thought you had handed him the correct amount, naturally. Then, as he handed you your receipt, you made

physical contact

with his hand and you felt like you were going to throw up -- he was so warm and he smelled so good. So, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and haul ass out of the shop but he called after you.

"Wait--"

"Keep the change!" You whined, chancing a glance back at him to see him shrugging and shoving the extra bills in his pocket. You were pretty sure that was illegal but you didn't care as you tucked tail and booked it back home.

-----You wanted to spend a nice lunch with your best friend and try to forget the fact you had embarrassed yourself and that the hot guy probably called up his friends to make fun of you after his shift.

But as you relayed your story to Junkook, his wide doe-eyes fixed on you as you spoke. You felt your cheeks heating up as you revealed the way you actually ran away from him and Jungkook had the audacity to burst out laughing.

It took him far too long to pull his shit together and look at you with clear eyes again. It took him even longer to be able to respond to your story of pure shame;

“So, what you’re saying is,” Jungkook took a liberal sip of his bubble tea, obnoxiously gulping the liquid as you glared at him from across the grated table. “You made a fool of yourself?”

“You’re such a jerk!” You cried, resting your head on your arms as you folded them beneath you, trying to block out his giggles that erupted again.

The moon was full, casting light over the outside world along with the normal glow of the city. You felt the lull of sleep biting at you and you stared at your empty can of Java Monster sighing. You needed to go get some more before you ended passing out before you could complete your self made study-guide.

Giving in, you pushed yourself off the chair and made your way to the front door.

The walk to Greg’s felt disgustingly short and sure enough, just like you feared, Mr. Hot Guy was behind the counter. Maybe you’d at least get his name today, you thought.

You placed your items on the counter, having thrown an extra bag of Cheetos in the mix.

“Hi,” You ventured, standing awkwardly as Mr. Hot Guy stared at his phone screen still.

“Hey there, Cheeto-Girl,” He replied, once again not veering from the device.

“My name is _____,” You offered and this time, he looked up.

“Min Yoongi,”

You mentally did a little happy dance -- you got his name!

However, your excitement was cut short when he scanned your items and it was time to hand him the money. Anxiety kicked in and before you knew it, you were overpaying him...again.As much as you would have loved to not make a fool of yourself again, naturally you couldn't even do that.Attempting to take the change resulted in physical contact with him, making you jump and before you knew it change was scattered along the counter making deafening noises in the otherwise silent shop. The look in his eyes was almost dead, staring blankly at the coins on the counter.“K-Keep the change!” You squeaked and, once again, tucked tail and booked it.

You were such a coward!

You’d dated guys before -- plenty in fact! But there was something about Min Yoongi that had your heart racing and you were pretty sure he saw you as nothing more than a weird girl who shows up at 3am to get Cheetos and coffee; just a wreck.Then again you were positive you'd never even seen a guy as hot as him in your entire life.

What was a girl to do?

One thing was for certain in your life; and that was finals sucked. You felt the mounting strain of stress on your shoulders and you could barely get through a practice question without tearing up in frustration. You had bottled it up and now it was ready to burst.

Perhaps a break would help.

The second you stepped outside, you felt the relief wash over you as the cool night air touched your flushed skin.

You took your time walking to Greg’s Place, wanting to extend your break from studying for as long as possible.

The shock of seeing Min Yoongi working had long since passed and faded from your system. However, the heart palpitations his stupidly good looking face and careless aura gave you were still very much alive. You collected the things you usually got but also added a nice little bag of M&Ms to your list.

When you get to the counter, Yoongi is for once actually ready at attention behind it, eyes burning holes into you as you placed your items down. You, however, couldn't be bothered to even form a smile, just watching blankly as he rang up your items.

You pulled out your wallet, ready to pay when he suddenly slammed his palms down on the counter, leaning close to you.

"Alright," He sighed, shaking his head to get his bangs out of his eyes, looking straight at you with sharp eyes. "What's the matter?"

"W-What?" Your wide, startled gaze met his stern one.

"Something's bothering you," He stated, leaning onto his elbows now.

"How do you know?" You asked, poking your bottom lip out in a pout -- trying to make yourself seem more cheerful than you felt. He seemed to see right through it, however.

"Usually you're a stuttering, cute little mess," He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Now you're dead-eyed and...sad. It's gross."

You completely missed the fact he called you cute as you found yourself in a crying fit. Yoongi's eyes widened as he watched the tears travel down your cheeks, at a loss of what to do.

"Wh-Hey, no...don't cry, come on," He rounded the counter, heaving a sigh and awkwardly patting your back. It was almost laughable how bad he was at comforting you.

"I'm s-sorry," You sniffled, wiping your tears away; it was futile as more simply took their place. "I always make such an idiot of myself!"

"Huh?" Yoongi leaned down to look at your face, moving some of your hair out of the way to get a look at you.

"Y-You're cute and you make me nervous and every time I come in here I end up doing something silly like overpaying, dropping the change, running away, and now I'm crying in a convenience store at 3 in the morning!"

"We'll come back to the fact you called me cute," He chuckled, making your face heat up at your own slip up. "Don't worry, I know finals suck."

"How did you know it was finals?"

"I have a friend in college, he's been grinding like hell to prepare," Yoongi shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. The mention of finals had your eyes tearing up again, which made him flounder once again. "Alright, look, how about I take you out and we can stuff ourselves silly, huh?"

"What about the store?" You asked, straightening yourself up now that you'd stopped sobbing.

"Ah, I don't give a fuck. I hate working the night shift anyway," He leaned over the counter and grabbed the keys to the store. "I know a place that's open at this time."

The place Yoongi took you to was just down the street from the store. He opened the door for you, the inside of the building smelling deliciously of bacon and syrup.

"Choose a seat," Yoongi commanded, waving his hand around the small restaurant.

You decided on a booth that was situated in the corner of the place, free from prying eyes and away from windows. To your surprise, there were a few more people inside, enjoying some late-night breakfast food; the scent of this place had you stomach grumbling eagerly.

"There's a menu," You mumbled, realizing there was already one sitting on the table. However, Yoongi didn't make any move to try and look over the menus, making you raise your brow at him in question.

"I'm here pretty much every night, I know what I want," He explained with a shrug.

"Night shift is pretty brutal, huh?" You chuckled, eyeing the breakfast platter on the menu; your mouth practically watering at the idea of that delicious bacon.

"Oh yeah, I used to just work the day shift," He fought down a smirk as he began to tell the tale. "I may have made a post on Twitter about him when Greg came to inspect and he put me on the night shift as punishment."

"Something tells me, this isn't going to make you stop posting on Twitter," Your words drew a laugh from him, giving you a glimpse of a cute gummy smile and you swear your heart stopped.

"Absolutely not,"

"Hey, Yoongi," A deep voice brought your attention to a tall bespectacled man wearing a red apron. "The usual?"

"Yeah, thanks Seokjin,"

"And for the lady?" Seokjin flashed you a charming smile as he waited for your order.

"I'll just take the House Special Breakfast, please," Seokjin nodded, smiling softly as he wrote down your order. "And orange juice to drink, please,"

"You got it," He tucked away his pad and patted Yoongi on the shoulder. "It'll just be a minute."

"Thanks," Yoongi mumbled, giving Seokjin a small smile before he walked away.

"Do you know him from your nights here or..?"

"Actually, we run in the same friend group," He replied with another casual shrug.

"Here you go, you two," Seokjin returned quickly with the prepared food, placing your plates down in front of you.

The two of you ate, making small talk. You were surprised how absolutely not-intimidating he was; from his sharp gaze and sharp tongue when you met him shortly behind the counter, you had the impression he would be terrifying. But now that you witnessed him laughing and joking, you could see the spark of life in his eyes.

"So beside eating Cheetos and studying until you cry, what other things do you do?" He asked, chuckling when you rolled your eyes.

"I go to convenience stores at 3am frequently," You responded cheekily, making him squint playfully at you. "What's your hobby?"

"Well, I like to make music," He seemed almost sheepish as he replied, ducking his head down. "It's a kind of expensive hobby so I work at the convenience store to make money. Producing underground only pays a few bucks...only enough for a package of noodles."

"I think that's really cool," Your words seemed to surprise him, his head shooting up to look at you. "I'm so absorbed in schoolwork I can't even enjoy my major anymore. It's really nice that you're following what you like even though you don't get much money for it."

You could swear his cheeks were dusted pink up to his ears at your words. But before you could really get a look, he was standing up, tossing a few bills on the table as tip.

"I'll pay, you go wait outside," He turned his back to you, shoving his hands in his pockets again. You didn't bother arguing, your college student ass needed to save any money you could.

"Let me walk you home," Yoongi said once he joined you outside. "You can't live far, right?"

"Correct," You folded your arms over your chest, tucking your hands under your jacket to keep them warm as you walked.

"It was really cool that you agreed to come out with me," He said, once you two stopped in front of your home.

"Thank you for taking me out," You could feel your face heating up at her met your gaze. "Even though I consistently make a fool of myself."

"I think it's endearing," He grinned, showing his gummy smile again.

"I think you called me cute earlier,"

"Hey," He turned his head away to hide what you assumed was a blush. "You called me cute too."

"Me and my loud mouth," You mumbled. "But...do you...want to come inside?"

"Sure," He replied quickly before he realized how fast he was. "I mean...I already closed the shop so...I'll need a place to hide when Greg comes hunting for me."

You laughed, the way he said 'Greg' sounding particularly hostile. You opened your door, allowing him inside first. When you stepped in, he was already shedding his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack as if he owned the place. He seemed oddly comfortable, not that you minded. You watched him as you shed your own coat, he peeked into your kitchen and living room, giving a small nod of approval.

"So, what do you want to do now that you have me vulnerable and alone in your apartment?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Wh--" You squinted, rolling your eyes but cut yourself off from engaging. From the look on his face, he was probably jumping at the opportunity to make fun of you. So you gracefully turned on your heels and began to sprint up the stairs, knowing he was hot on your tail.

"Oh, so this is your hermit hole?" Yoongi tucked his hands in his pockets, looking at the mess that was your desk; textbook, laptop and notebook open with pens and highlighters scattered around.

"Don't call it a hermit hole," You whined, flopping back onto your bed with a huff. "It makes me feel like a loser,"

"Hey, don't feel like that," You felt the weight shift as he sat beside you on the edge of the bed. "It's really great that you're tryin' so hard. You're gonna get far in life, better than me anyway,"

"Yoongi," You sat up and placed a hand on his back, comforting. "You're doing what you love. I'm just studying when in the end my degree won't mean shit and I'll end up having a shitty office job in corporate,"

"Why do you do it then? Why don't you do what you want?" He asked, looking at you face to face now.

"Mostly to make my parents happy, to be honest," You admitted, shrugging one of your shoulders halfheartedly.

"Hmm," He leaned back on his hands and looked up at the ceiling. "My parents...threw me out after finding out I wanted to pursue music. I could barely afford to live properly let alone actually try to get an education, I spent a couple years living on the streets. I managed to get a few gigs to produce a track and got some money; I used it to buy clothes and get an interview at Gregs."

"Holy crap," You mumbled, shaking your head in surprise. "You're doing well now though?"

"Well enough," He mumbled. "Things are a lot better than they used to be, that's for sure. I had a couple friends who lived on the street and I kind of had to take care of them...Taehyung and Hoseok. They managed to get jobs and better they lives and so I did the same. I'm certainly not rolling in the cash but I got a little apartment, clothes on my back, and food to eat. That's about all I could ask for,"

"What if Greg fires you!?" You cried, suddenly remembering the fact he shut the store down to take you out.

"Honestly," A small smile played on his lips as he looked at you. "Greg likes me more than he lets on, he won't fire me. I've charmed my way into his bitter little heart,"

His words had you laughing, tossing your head back while he smiles.

"Can I kiss you?" The abruptness of his word cut your laughing short to stare at him wide-eyed. He was staring at you as if he hadn't just asked to kiss you, instead looking like he had just asked what you had for breakfast. Quite the bold man.

"Y-Yes?" Your response came out choked, still not fully over the shock of his sudden proposal.

His fingers were warm and a little rough as he cupped you cheek, angling your head so he could easily slot his lips against yours. His lips were incredibly soft and the few guys you had kissed in the past were nothing compared to the skillful way he pulled you into the passion. You allowed him to ease you onto your back, laying beside you as he continued to kiss you, lightly nipping your bottom lip before he laved over it with his tongue. You clenched your thighs together, feeling a pressure settling in your core the longer he kissed you.

"You're so pretty," He whispered as he pulled away, licking his lips as he gazed down at you; his pupils were blown wide and you could feel the faint hardness of his member against your hip.

He was getting turned on too.

"Yoongi," You whispered, leaning up to brush your lips against his as he hummed in response."Can I...suck you off?"

"Holy shit," He choked, flopping onto his back beside you, covering his face with his hands. "Fuck yeah,"

You felt excitement flow through you and you forced yourself to not fist pump the air in victory. You shuffled your way between his thighs, the both of you scooting up the bed to get comfortable. You reached up, holding your breath as you unbuttoned his jeans, already feeling the way he was steadily hardening beneath the fabric of his jeans.

He spread his legs to make more room for you as you tugged the waistband of his boxer-briefs down enough so his cock popped out, slapping against his stomach.

He wasn't completely hard yet but the sight of him already had your mouth watering. The tip was a pretty pink and a vein on the underside; when you wrapped your hand around the base of him, he let out a soft sigh of pleasure. Giving him a few experimental squeezes, you could feel him harden the rest of the way, his thighs trembling at the pleasure. You couldn't hold yourself back anymore, you needed to taste him.

The tip of his cock was like velvet on your tongue, warm and a slightly bitter taste of his precum melting on your taste buds. As you swirled your tongue around his tip, his fingers tangled in you hair with a groan.

"F-Fuck, sensitive there, baby," He nearly whined and you could have creamed your panties right then and there at the sound. You didn't torture him with over stimulation, instead taking the head of him into your mouth, sucking him generously to hear his moans. At the urging of fingering in your hair, you took him deeper into your mouth. He wasn't incredibly long but the thickness of him was causing your jaw to ache already. The thought of having him stretch you out, coating him in your cum had your cunt clenching painfully around nothing.

You whined around his cock, making him stiffen and groan, biting his lip to keep himself a little quieter. You could feel how his hips twitched faintly, as if he wanted to thrust into your mouth but was holding himself back. Relaxing your throat, you allowed him to slip deeper -- your gag reflex fought a bit but you managed to sink down to the base. Tears trickled down your cheeks but Yoongi was in bliss, tugging at your hair and groaning as you swallowed thrice around him before pulling off.

"Fuck!" He growled, sitting up suddenly, fist wrapped in your hair before he pressed his lips to yours to share a sloppy kiss. "One day, I'll fuck your throat,"

The idea and tone of his voice had you gushing into your panties; the promise of a next time making you squirm.

"Will you let me return the favor?" He asked, voice deep and dark in his words. "Will you let me eat your little cunt?"

"F-Fuck," You whined, his hand that was in your hair traveling to your neck to push you onto the bed.

As he took his position between your thighs, he reached behind himself to tug his shirt up and off his body. Your eyes soaked in the sight of his lean body with pebbled pink nipples that you longed to wrap your lips around to test the sensitivity. You lifted your hips when he tucked his fingers into the waistband of your sweats, pulling them down along with your panties.

"God, so fucking pretty," He growled, dropping onto his stomach and hissing when his cock was trapped between him and the bed. You spread your legs for him, tucking your hands beneath your thighs to expose your soaked slit to him. He groaned, using both of his thumb to spread the glossy lips of your cunt, hissing when you gushed. Any self control he was trying to exhibit snapped his tongue was suddenly sliding into your entrance to taste you. You cried out, tangling your fingers in his raven locks; his hair was incredibly soft you noted through your haze.

Yoongi was way too fucking good with his mouth, swirling his tongue around your clit and sucking the little bud into his mouth. You were trembling, your back arching in pure pleasure as he very abruptly introduced two fingers; sliding them into your clenching hole, making your nearly scream at the feeling of

finally

being filled. He seemed to know exactly what to do to find your g-spot, crooking his fingers up, making your hips arch as you whined.

"Ah, right there?" He cooed, lips detaching from your clit for a moment to watch his fingers fuck you. He spread his fingers, making you groan as he stretched you out.

"Yoongi, please," You whimpered, tugging his hair. He took the hint and kissed his way up your body to meet your lips; making you taste yourself as he slid his tongue into your mouth. His fingers didn't stop abusing your sweet spot, making you whimper into his mouth.

"Fuck," He groaned as he pulled away from you. "Can I fuck you, babygirl?"

You nodded, eyes rolling back in your head as he gave your spot one last stroke before pulling his fingers out.

"Use your words, sweetheart," He cooed, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers, making your lips pout.

"Y-Yes, please fuck me,"

"Good girl,"

He slid off the bed to shed his jeans and underwear; you took the hint and sat up to rip off your shirt, leaving your completely nude on your bed.

"Such pretty tits," He groaned, cupping one in his hand and pinching the nipple generously, taking the moment to indulge himself.

He climbed back onto the bed, grinning when you immediately spread yourself for him. Slowly pumping his cock, he got himself comfortable on his knees. Once he was situated, you sat up on your elbows to watch the way he spread your folds with his cockhead. You sighed in pleasure as he brushed against your clit, lightly slapping the bud to watch your thighs jump.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore and reached down to wrap your fingers around him, directing him to finally sink into your entrance. He didn't stop you, following your lead and sinking into you until your hips were flush together. The girth of him stretched you to the point it burned, making you whine and moan. You clenched around him, arching your hips to fuck yourself on him.

"Fuck," Yoongi cursed, leaning over you to support himself on hands beside your head. He watched the way you ground up against him, your eyes rolling back into your head at the pleasure. "Dirty girl,"

Finally, he took over, pulling back and slamming himself back in, barely grazing your cervix in the process. His pelvic bone abused your clit every time he sheathed himself inside you. The way he caught your g-spot with every move had you tumbling incredibly fast to what you knew would be a mind blowing orgasm. Your thighs were threatening to close to save yourself from the overstimulation you were beginning to feel.

Yoongi, however, was having none of it. Strong hands gripped the backs of your knees and forcefully spread your legs, leaving your soaking cunt vulnerable to the torture his cock put on it. Your eyes filled with tears, your mouth falling open; you were teetering on an edge that you'd never felt before; he was going to make you cum without having to touch your clit.

It was becoming too much, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter but not releasing. Your hands pressed against Yoongi's chest to slow him down, but he only grinned and grabbed your wrists with one hand and pinned them above your head.

"Fucking take it," He growled, leaning closer to you to make you look directly into his eyes. "You're gonna cum all over this cock, babygirl, go ahead. Give it to me,"

With him staring into your eyes, watching you, you finally came undone. You tossed your head back but Yoongi tangled his fingers into your hair to force you to look at him again; his hips never stopping as he fucked the forced orgasm out of you. Your walls spasmed and gushed, covering him with cum that he'd love to taste one day. The sight of you cumming so hard for him sent him off of his own end and suddenly, he was pulling out of you before he came inside.

However, having him pull out so suddenly had your orgasm flying to new heights and before you even realized what was going on, the both of you were being drenched in more of your cum as you squirted. Yoongi cursed, using the head of his cock against your clit to keep your squirting as he came messily all over your cunt. You couldn't take anymore and reached down desperately to stop him, trembling all over from the pure force of pleasure you had experienced.

As you were coming down, Yoongi leaned over your exhausted body and kissed you lazily. Neither of you really moved your lips, just enjoyed the feeling.

"You wanna shower?" He asked, voice breathy from his own panting. You peeked out of one eyes and saw the tiny smile on his lips as he regarded you.

"L-Let me...rest for a minute..."

"Damn, fucked you that good, huh?" He asked, growing visibly cocky.

As much as you didn't want to boost his already apparently inflated ego, you couldn't help but admit it with a nod.

"I don't think anyone's ever made me cum like that," You admitted, looking down at your body at the complete mess that covered your skin; both his and your cum.

"The first of many, babygirl," He promised, making you shiver.

If he could fuck you like that every time then you would be a very happy girl.

"Seriously, this cum is starting to dry so let's shower," He grumbled, rolling off the bed to stand naked before you.

"Geez, you're so pushy," You mumbled, letting him pull you to your feet no matter how much like literal jelly you felt like.

"I think you like me being pushy,"

"Don't hold yourself so highly,"

"I knew the second you looked at me, you'd be smitten with me, babe,"

"H-Hey! Me smitten with you?!"

"Don't worry," He cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist to kiss your nose. "I'm pretty smitten with you too,"

"Aw," You giggled, looking up at him through your lashes.

"...Cheeto-Girl,"

"Hey!"

#bts smut #yoongi smut #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #bts preferences #yoongi preferences #bts reactions #yoongi reactions #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi/reader #yoongi/you

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violexides · 5 years ago

Text

school system bitchery

placed under the cut for length:

the american school system, in my experience and limited to my experience and general knowledge, systematically implements the principles and thought processes that directly correlate to students living an unbalanced life, despite the time period in which you are a student running through the period of adolescence and typically ending before your brain even develops properly (which, learning does help your brain, i do recognize that, but in terms of just. the emotional impact here).

bottom text.

okay but if you think about it the standard portrayal of the adult workaholic who lives in a miserable job, shown to students as undesirable, is living a life directly connected to how the school system shows a student’s ‘priorities’. students are taught to prioritize learning and getting good grades over personal life outside of school (which is ESPECIALLY emphasized in the “gifted program” sphere, but is generally applicable to all). getting good grades means access to a good college which means access to a good future, which is almost advertised as something deeply competitive, where you have to get the best score out of your peers.

(gifted programs, from personal experience, absolutely feed into this competitiveness and does not try to hide it. at some point, it is the students saying it themselves. someone got an 100% on a difficult test? someone will ask who. someone didn’t show up to class? multiple people will wonder. someone got into an ivy league school and their closest friend didn’t? some point, it tastes like betrayal.

of course, i’ve fed into this. it is remarkably difficult, in this atmosphere, to understand my sister who is upset at getting a lower A than she wanted on an exam she thought she would ace, when i actively got a C on some of my tests.)

this unbalanced life and the difficulty seen in school courses is met with-- especially in high school gifted programs, i’ve noticed-- burn out. personal experience, hello, i am burned the fuck out. looking at quick statistics from the CDC, last reviewed in july 2020, a 2016 study says 9.4% of students age 2-17 in america have diagnosed ADHD. study that looks like it’s from 2018 says that 7.1% of students age 3-17 have diagnosed anxiety, 3.2% have diagnosed depression, and approximately 3/4 children diagnosed with depression also have anxiety.

you may noticed i bolded diagnose. it is really goddamn hard to get a diagnosis. getting a diagnosis requires seeing a professional who can diagnose you, which operates under the presumption that the student is in the place to access a professional, or that the student can financially afford it (insurance is not always the most helpful with these things, my family is luckily enough to pay for shit out of pocket, but i know people held back by both these constraints). so, these percentages likely increase when that is factored.

(the cdc does say that around 80% of students with depression got treatment, and around 60% with anxiety got treatment. i haven’t looked into the actual study itself so i am not 100% sure, but again. this is operating under who is diagnosed).

these aren’t negligible statistics, and this does not even FACTOR IN the plethora of other mental illnesses, disabilities, general barriers, trauma, and general life occurrences that can affect students physically, emotionally, and yes, in how they work.

so we have mentally ill students with burnout facing difficult classes and dealing with comparison, and how is this handled? well, the counselor crisis is so goddamn complicated that i don’t know how to tackle that shit, but lets focus on mental health education.

to put it simply, the information is outdated, skims over a vast majority of mental illnesses or other things that impact student mental health, offer unrealistic solutions (the inequity in implying that every student can seek help seems to go unrecognized, at least on surface level, though i know personally that there is work, at least in my state, to be better at addressing this), and, what really gets me is, it offers NO MENTION of how this affects PRODUCTIVITY.

when you think of the random student that has missing assignments and failing grades, what is the first thought? someone who is lazy, who sleeps in class, who doesn’t care enough, right? if we want to tackle systematic racism, too, what are the odds that we are made to believe that this hypothetical student is white? those odds are sure as hell lower than being told that they are a person of color. right?

well, look at it like this. common symptom of depression, for example? missing assignments, hypersomnia, et cetera. oh okay. so student A is lazy, right. gotcha.

okay, well. if student B can get the assignments done, why can’t student A? well, the adversity a student experiences isn’t comparable. but also, draw this back to the standards naturally set? lets take a close look at what i myself did yesterday for one of my classes, and what my friend did (also i would like to note here, since this is a real life example, that not all this fault falls to teachers. this teacher was actually incredibly accommodating. this is more systematic.)

well, we had this long assignment for a java 2 programming course. we had a few weeks to do it, but of course, studying for 3 other tests and trying to do projects, amidst extracurriculurs and personal life, can make this difficult. so, we put it off.

yesterday, student C had dinner at 11 and stayed up a good majority of the night trying to get this done. they did not do excellent on all of it or get every answer right. the teacher was fortunately accommodating (and if they weren’t? what then.) student D spent 6 hours straight, also neglecting food and mental health, to attempt all the problems, got a C on the final test for it, and eventually gave up and went to bed extremely exhausted.

i am student D, by the way. student C is another person, but they’re remaining anonymous. no shit, of course i;m gonna keep them anonymous.

okay, i’ve been typing this for like, 10+ minutes, so i should wrap this shit up at some point. i will bitch about this more later.

main points: the education system of america systematically sets up students to fail the impossible ‘standard’, the topic of mental health is not tackled effectively, students are directly placed against each other and this is used as a ‘motivator’, and there are a plethora of other issues i did not tackle.

remember to drink water, have some food, get some rest, and compliment yourself. you are not a failure for struggling to succeed. i’m proud of you. remember that.

edit one: i did read over this later and i did want to say that i am not explicitly saying student A has depression definitively. that sort of claim actually does have ties to the mental health education in schools too, go figure. i am mainly trying to prove the point that labeling these students as lazy is incredibly damaging. i have recently broken down over the fact that i may be labeled as ‘lazy’ for not being on time with all my assignments and scoring low scores. i am not lazy. i am burnt out, mentally ill, and taking college level classes as a high school sophomore. just some food for thought.

#personal #school system #the american school system we know and love #education rant #education issues #i did not proofread this #sorry if there are things i said that were not directly backed w statistics #this is mainly presonal experience and CDC information since this was like #very impromptu #i need to chill now okay

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clansayeed · 5 years ago

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The Interview ― a Bound by Destiny drabble

⥼ Summary ⥽

Nervous, broke, and way under-qualified, Nadya applies for a last-resort secretary job at the illustrious Raines Corp. But a cup of coffee before her interview might just change her life.

note: This piece takes place before the events of the Oblivion Bound series. It takes the events of Bloodbound 1 CH 1 and tailors them specifically to Nadya, and is referenced a handful of times throughout Bound by Destiny.

Happy Birthday Oblivion Bound! On June 29th you turned 1 year old, and I couldn’t be more excited to have so much more of this story to tell. To everyone who has joined me along the way I hope you enjoy this little piece!

check out the fake screencaps for this piece!

word count: 4,902 rating: teen+ content warnings: none find out more: HERE

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

[READ IT ON AO3]

In all the articles she read (that morning, which probably wasn’t a good way to start out even the potential of this job) there was a universal agreement that being the last person interviewed was about as bad as being the first.

But none of those stupid articles told her what to do when she finds herself stuck smack-dab in the middle.

She keeps trying to push up her glasses. There’s a half-crescent probably permanently etched into the bridge of her nose by now. Great first impression to make, honestly.

The conference room door opens and everyone tries to play it cool, tries not to look at the face of the woman who exits. They don’t want to get their hopes up. They don’t want to think three hours of waiting is for nothing.

She leaves just like all the others. The next name is called just like all the others. Four seats to her left the young man stands and adjusts his tie. Runs his tongue over his pearly teeth — and closes the pristine wooden doors behind him.

What had Lily said? Something helpful, probably. Though she’s certain now it was probably mixed in with a whole lot of nonsense. Motivational quotes, stress-relief tips that worked on everyone but the chronically anxious. But, much like how she finds herself, there’s one sliver of usefulness among the chaos.

“Caffeine. If you get the jitters just tell them you’re excited to work there! If not… well you’ll have coffee and that’s a gift on its own.”

The last candidate was interviewed for twenty-three minutes. Before her; thirty-one minutes.

So she rationalizes there’s nothing wrong with leaving her clipboard on her seat and rushing to the lobby for a quick java boost. Hadn’t there been a coffee cart right off to the side…?

It’s only fitting that the last of her freehand cash is spent here. If by some miracle she actually gets the job it’ll be something funny to reminisce on after she gets through the first year.

If she gets through the first year.

The middle of the afternoon has come and gone, now. She looks out through the glass walls of the front atrium to see the sky fading into the ombre of evening light. At this rate the interviewer won’t get to her in time, and she’s pretty darn sure this isn’t the type of place to waste a call back on something as trivial as a secretarial position.

It’s New York. Secretaries are a dime a dozen. That much is obvious.

Now comes the hard part — waiting. Trying not to tap her foot on the expensive marble floors and trying not to look back so much she messes up her hair and trying not to chew her lip so hard she walks into her interview with blood on her teeth.

“Are you alright?”

The first words said to her since she arrived; well… apart from “Complete the forms given before your interview. You will be called in by order of arrival” hammered out by the terse blonde interviewer. The first words and they’re kind and she’s definitely thrown more than a little off-kilter by the whole thing.

And coming from the custom-fit Suit she just happened to stand near, too? Well now she’s wary of flying pigs on the evening weather forecast.

It’s hard not to look at him from the ground up; to take in all of him with the money that seeps from his collar and cuffs and the way his tie pin catches the lights overhead. From the way he carries himself the Suit knows all this; he’s accustomed to it.

Only… her appreciation halts at his eyes. Dark brows just shy of knitted together and a shine in his eyes that has nothing to do with fluorescent bulbs and everything to do with… with…

It’s an impossible sensation. One she’s never felt before. Not just hard to describe but literally — she can’t. There aren’t words for a look like that. Open and honest and genuine and…

“Soy latte for Nadya.”

Is she staring? She feels like she’s staring.

The Suit laughs. It’s the shift in his expression that does it — puts her squarely back inside her own head where everything is all a hectic jumble of professional words and an itemized list of accomplishments. Yup, she was staring. If she gets this job she’ll have to rely solely on home-brewed coffee so as to never meet this man again.

“Are you Nadya?”

The burning in her cheeks is in direct contrast to her chosen blush. But Nadya has a feeling he’s the least likely person to notice that, here. The coffee cart barista on the other hand…

It’s hard to stop her hand from trembling as Nadya reaches out for her coffee. Hopefully not enough to notice, certainly not enough to spill anything, but nope nope nope about mission — the Suit noticed. The Suit noticed!

“I’m sorry,” her apology; a compulsion, “I—that was super rude of me. Oh my god, I… probably look like such a weirdo.”

“A bit,” he muses in reply. But he doesn’t seem all too bothered by it? It has the gears in her head turning backwards trying to understand.

“At the risk of sounding vain —”

“—said every vain person ever?”

“Too true; but I digress. You have nothing to be sorry for — it’s not the first time something like that has happened.” He’s on the nose there — between the polished cufflinks and his smile just the same the guy definitely sounds vain.

The first sip of her latte is always the same — tentative, just a quick taste to make sure her stomach isn’t gonna regret it later — but Mr. Vanity doesn’t look away which is a little unnerving to say the least.

“Just nerves then, I assume?”

“Wait — I’m sorry?”

If Nadya had to wonder where any sense of ‘cool and calm’ she might have had went she’s found it here, all soaked up in (probably) Italian loafers. “Just a second ago,” his hands slide into his pockets, “you looked… well I thought you were about to faint.”

Oh. “Right—yeah—nerves,” and he didn’t ask but she rambles when she’s like this so really it’s his fault for starting a conversation, “I’m actually here for a job interview. My first big gig since moving to the city, you know?”

The man nods appraisingly. “I remember the feeling well. But this office is the same as any other on Wall Street, I assure you.”

Yeah, that’s Nadya’s problem.

“I’ve never worked in a place like this. Ever.”

“Ever?”

“Ever ever.”

“Ah,” when he nods not even a hair comes out of place, “‘Ever ever,’ that’s a pretty big deal.”

“The roof over my head literally depends on it, so…” And normally Nadya would take one look at a guy like this and say without a shadow of a doubt that he’s probably never had to worry about that sort of thing. But there’s something about him — something different than the earlier strangeness, but something nonetheless — that tells her he might just take her by surprise.

She really should be getting back to her seat.

But even with every relaxation technique in her arsenal this—right here—this is the best she’s felt about herself all day. So there’s no harm in staying an extra minute or two, right?

The man laughs unprompted and Nadya casts him a curious look. He seems almost bashful about it.

“You just reminded me of my first job, is all.”

“Let me guess — right in this very office but, hm… intern? No, you look more like the humble mail room type.”

His look turns appraising. “Do I really?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“If you have to ask that then perhaps not.” Yet their teasing is as well-meaning as it is spontaneous; enough for him to actually continue, “Actually my first job — well, first paying job that is — was a cobbler. You know, for shoes.”

Oh, Nadya knows. Yeah, in fact she has a funny story pretty similar having to do with a frazzled third-grade substitute teacher and a Bunsen burner. Since it had been, after all, a unit on Colonial America.

But that’s a level of sass they probably haven’t risen to just yet. She just nods instead.

“It was a small business, well—it was a small town. My father knew the owner and one thing led to another. I was pretty nervous on my first day too.”

He’s just trying to help, Nadya reminds herself. However strange and probably untrue his story may be, there’s no denying his sincerity. Just a successful man talking to a not-even-secretary trying to show a little empathy. Frankly Nadya isn’t sure she wouldn’t be doing the same thing were the roles reversed.

That’s just what kind people did for others. The world would be a better place if everyone was like that.

The cart barista doesn’t even get the chance to put down the drink fully when he’s reaching for it. Some people just need their java — Nadya can totally relate. But she swears the Suit winks at the girl. Though it could definitely just be a trick of the light.

Nadya’s all prepared for the “this was nice but we’ll never cross paths again” sort of goodbye when he returns.

Instead he throws her for a loop and places his cup at one of the two little silver tables that serve as the cart’s cafe. He pulls out a chair with a smile her way — is that supposed to be meant for her?

He catches onto her surprise quickly. “I hope you don’t think me too forward. I was just enjoying our chat and thought… why leave it there?”

Uhm, because you’re a man with a salary high enough to look the way you do? “Oh — I mean its… that’s really sweet of you but I should be…” she throws a look in the direction of the conference room, “getting back. Being late for the interview doesn’t seem like the best impression to make.”

The man laughs; some joke Nadya isn’t privy to. “If that’s all you’re worried about — don’t be. She actually gets a kick out of drilling people in there.”

Her resolve crumples at his hopeful smile. “And I’ll vouch for you.” Oh look she’s already sitting down.

“Well if we’re actually doing this, how about a name?” She tries to look at his cup but can’t quite catch it. If she didn’t know any better Nadya would say he actually turned it away while taking a sip.

“My name is Adrian. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Nadya.”

“Same to you, Adrian.”

Nadya discovers very quickly that this isn’t just about enjoying a chat. Judging by the looks they get — though Nadya could easily be chopped liver — and the curt nods here and there, it’s obvious Adrian is pretty important. He’s just using her to play hooky.

Which only earns him points in her book.

So does the way he props his elbow on the tabletop to rest his chin on an open palm. “So I have to ask you, Nadya, if I may of course.”

“Ask away.”

“If you’ve never ever worked in a corporate setting before — why now? This isn’t the kind of job one finds in the Classifieds.”

A fair question. She laughs softly. “Is it bad if I say I don’t really know? Oh god, it probably is.”

“I wouldn’t say bad, but the hiring interviewer will probably ask something along the same lines.”

“You’ve… got a good point there. Okay,” she makes a little show of sitting up straighter and pushing her glasses all the way up until she knows there’s little red dots between her eyes; Adrian’s smile is totally worth it.

“So the salary’s good but I’m sure you know a little bit about that.”

He chuckles. “A little bit, yes.”

“And threat-of-eviction aside; I caught the listing on one of those random alumni emails from my college. You know — the ones where they make it out like they’re trying to help you succeed but they’re really used to find grads with the biggest paychecks to hound them for donations.

“It definitely wasn’t my first choice. I don’t think I have to tell you that I’m pretty out of my element.” She pauses when Adrian’s brow creases just the smallest bit.

“What would you say is your element then?”

“That’s just it. I’ve got absolutely no clue. I figured I could do the basic job okay — I actually enjoy putting schedules and things together and the rest — all the business-y parts — I hoped I could just kinda pick up along the way. Do I think this is going to be my calling? No idea, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t put all my effort into the work.

“But you can’t find something without trying, you know? I trust my gut and… figure I’ll know what I’m looking for when I see it.”

Because Nadya had done herself the disservice of not trusting her gut when she first moved out here. Get a part-time job or two to pay the bills and loans, she figured, and just keep looking for that perfect one.

Yeah. That had gone over well.

Interview after interview — all with the same depressing result: the cheery false-apology letter and some variation of “we thank you for your interest but we will be continuing to pursue other candidates.”

Adrian is polite and attentive the whole time, too. Even when she gets to the unnecessary descriptions of Lily’s cheer-up dinners. Nadya knows she has a tendency to ramble when she’s nervous — but every time she apologizes he smiles and shakes his head; tells her “no apologies necessary, please go on,” and sometimes follows up with a thoughtful question or consideration that could only come from someone actually genuinely taking part in the conversation.

He’s kind. She’s surprised to find that in a place like this but he is. And before long Nadya finds herself wondering why she was ever nervous at all. Too bad he isn’t the one interviewing, she thinks, I might actually have a chance.

“That’s…” Adrian leans back in his seat with a forced exhale, “that’s quite a story.”

She knows where this always goes. “I knew it; way too much sharing. I was hoping to try and put a positive spin on it — for the position, I mean. Answering phones, scheduling meetings, that kind of stuff. I’m sor—”

“Nadya, please don’t apologize again. You don’t need to.” Then he reaches over and has a hand over hers and he’s cold, like weirdly as cold as the atrium itself, or maybe she’s just too darn flush from embarrassing herself. “Never apologize for the things that make you you. And give yourself a bit of credit, while you’re at it. I’ve lived and worked here for a long time and I’ve seen a lot of people settle for less. Even people like yourself.”

“English majors who have no business in Business?”

“People who don’t quite know what they want out of life. You’re young, Nadya —” which is rich coming from him, he can’t be more than thirty, “— you don’t have to have it all planned out right this second. You’ll miss out on too much if you try.”

Adrian’s words leave her speechless. She makes a mental note to let him know just how rare that is later on. Not just because he could be an awesome life coach but because there’s no doubt in Nadya’s mind that he means every single word.

No, Adrian can’t be more than thirty. But when she fixes her glasses and looks him in the eyes he looks like he’s a hundred years old. Wistful and wanting and wise all at the same time. Nadya’s left feeling so small and so very very young when he takes his hand back.

Nadya tries to recover her composure behind the last bit of her latte but is left wanting; nothing but soy gone cold and somehow tasting of the bottom of the paper cup. He watches her thoughtfully all the while; even when she gestures to his empty cup and gets a nod in thanks when she drops them both in the nearest recycling bin.

She hasn’t even sat back down when Adrian abruptly asks; “May I see your resume?” And there’s no reason why not so she reaches down—

And remembers with absolute horror that her resume is on the clipboard. at her seat. in her spot in line. back where the interviews are.

“Son of a biscuit.” Well, there’s no use in rushing over there now. Even the cart barista has left for the evening long since arrived. Nadya looks around and takes in the practically empty lobby with a sinking pit in her stomach and a new story of failures to add to her list.

Somehow “I didn’t get the job because a really nice, sweet, very-much-employed guy made me miss my interview” probably isn’t going to go over well with the landlord.

But she isn’t the only victim — if it’s any consolation. It isn’t. Adrian looks around with a “huh,” of pleasant surprise and checks his watch. “Well Kamilah’s going to kill me,” because to him this is something worth joking about, apparently, “but what else is new.”

“I should go.” I need to go. But she just slumps a little deeper into her seat.

He looks at her sympathetic; good, he should feel bad, she wants to say but he doesn’t deserve that kind of spite. She shouldn’t have left the line.

“Could I ask just one more question before you go?”

Nadya can’t help but want to start asking her own questions. Ones like why is he asking all these questions, why does he care, does this mean she can still ask him to vouch for her; all that jazz. She doesn’t though.

“Why did you move to New York?”

From the look on his face Adrian can tell he’s caught her off guard. “I just mean — like I said, Nadya, I’ve lived here for a long time. Met all sorts of different people with all sorts of different lives and histories and reasons of their own. Sometimes I think I’ve heard just about every reason you can imagine.” But even though he tries to laugh it off he definitely meant it, and he’s definitely interested in the answer.

“And…” she splutters a bewildered laugh, “and what, you think I’ll have a new one?”

He shrugs. “Maybe not new, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be interesting.”

“It’s not some heart-wrenching story —”

“That’s okay.”

But he’s serious. It takes Nadya a minute to fully believe him but he is, and she does. Hope you didn’t get your hopes up too much.

“I was really scared when I graduated from college. School was… my whole life up until right then. And now people were expecting all these things from me and… and I’d never done any of them before. Suddenly I was facing the rest of my life and I was starting it terrified. But I still had to do it; scared or not.

“So I figured it wasn’t a bad idea to try and get all the things I was scared of out of the way then. It seems stupid now…”

“Not at all.” Nadya looks up when she realizes she’s been focused on her hands in her lap and Adrian’s looking at her like he’s breathless. It’s weird, not gonna lie a little bit of a confidence booster, but also… well, scary. In its own way.

“And I’ve got this really bad habit of being stubborn, even to myself, so I just… said go big or go home. No place I can think of bigger and scarier than New York.”

For a second she thinks he’s laughing at her for being such a terrible cliche. But… he’s not. It’s just a laugh. What else do you do when you’re happy?

“Are you still scared here?”

“Every day,” but Nadya shrugs it off; just like she has for months now, “and one day I won’t be. Dunno when, or how, but I won’t be. So I should probably stick it out until then.”

“I’d like to see that day.” You and me both.

But if he’s gonna sit there and be all charming and intellectual and weirdly invested in her personal life journey then she can too. “What about you,” Nadya asks with just a teensy bit of cheek; which has Adrian laughing again but now she’s into the joke so let her roll with it, “wait — lemme guess — all the cobbler jobs were taken so you figured a fancy tech corporation was the next best thing?”

“Actually,” somehow his one question has turned into… well into this but he’s nice and this building is nice and why not, Nadya? “That’s an interesting story. My father took me to the city when I was old enough to help with my share of the work, you see, and —”

“Adrian! Where the hell have you been all afternoon?”

Every clack of her heels is like an ice pick to the tiles — Nadya’s glad she’s not the only one who flinches at the sound. Or maybe it’s the shrillness of the voice the shoes must belong to. She knows that voice, actually—

Because her life is a living nightmare Nadya looks over Adrian’s shoulder to see the woman from the hiring interviews marching towards the pair of them; face flushed and a stack of clipboards in hand and oh god how awful would it be to ask to steal her resume back because printing them out at the library is such a chore?

Nadya shrinks in her seat and prays not to be recognized — but Adrian seems used to such outbursts. He throws Nadya a reassuring smile (which totally works, not that Scary Interviewer would give her a chance to thank him) before turning in his seat to greet her face to face.

“Nice to see you too, Nicole.”

Nicole gives a long-suffering sigh and ignores Nadya’s presence entirely. She’s totally cool with that. “That doesn’t answer my question. I finished with interviews over an hour ago — and what did I return to?”

“I don’t know. But I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“Three missed calls from Ahmanet, no signature on the Volenti files, and you still haven’t decided on which of the Red Site projects you want to endorse at next year’s conference. Which you should have decided a week ago.”

Adrian has the patience of a saint. Which comes as no surprise since he did just listen to Nadya’s ramblings for more than an hour for sure. He lets the woman get everything out of her system without even so much as a tick of the brow.

And has the dumb idea of gesturing to Nadya as a reply. “Nicole, have you met Nadya?”

She double-takes with the same concern she might give a leaf on the wind. “Miss Sayeed wants to move the meeting to her offices for the inconvenience.”

“Nadya was one of the applicants from earlier today.”

Okay — that works. Not that Nicole looks at her, now fully even in disdain, with anything remotely close to respect. She sweeps her eyes over Nadya; held frozen by the spite in her steely stare.

“I remember you. The Walk Out.”

Is it hot in here or is she losing her nerve? “Well — actually I —”

Nicole cuts her off. “You walked out, did you not?”

“I went to grab a coffee.”

“Oh, well that changes things.”

“Wait—really?” Dumb move.

“Of course it doesn’t.”

Adrian clears his throat politely for their attention. “Nicole — I’m sorry for setting your schedule back.” She nods, though it doesn’t seem much like she’s accepted the apology. “I’ll worry about Kamilah, and the other things won’t take me more than an hour. I do have one favor to ask.”

It occurs to Nadya then that Nicole, who very much wants to say no—that’s obvious, can’t. Which is just weird since she doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who does favors for anyone.

“Yes, Mister Raines?”

Forget tomato red. All of the color drains out of Nadya’s face at once. And the reassuring smile Adrian tries to offer doesn’t do a darn thing.

Mister Who-Now?

“If you could go ahead and cancel tomorrow’s interviews I’d appreciate it. Tell them that particular position has been filled but they’re free to reapply for something similar under one of the division heads, maybe?”

“Why in the world would I —” If looks could kill Nicole would most certainly have sent her six feet under. “No.” Though this time Nadya has to agree. Probably the only thing they would agree on ever in the history of all time.

“No way.”

But Adrian just beams. “I just came down here to stretch my legs and grab a coffee. I had planned on sticking my head in for one or two of your interviews, Nicole, but —”

“We agreed it was best I handle filling the position, sir.” She grinds the word out but, to her credit, Nicole’s face is never less than cool and collected. “You haven’t seen her resume, you have no idea if she’s even qualified.”

“You’re half right,” he replies, “but I’m sure if she didn’t have some idea of what the secretary position requires she wouldn’t have even made it to the interviews, right? The rest of it, all that ‘business-y stuff’ I’m sure she can pick up along the way.”

Oh that’s not cool. Not cool at all. Playing Undercover Boss and then using her own words against her? Wait — why isn’t it cool? Why isn’t she jumping for joy and already trying to convince Lily not to spend money they don’t yet have on pizza?

Maybe because it feels a little underhanded? By some random luck she ends up talking with Adrian Raines, CEO of Raines Corp over coffee and suddenly she gets the job over a bunch of way more qualified people?

But this is what she wanted. It’s the job. So why…

Oh.

Nadya’s here for the interview but she knows there are people who want this job and have the experience to boot. Nadya’s trying to refuse the job she needs because that would mean something went right, and things going right never ends well.

She’s scared.

The loudness of Nicole’s departure startles Nadya out of her self-realization. She glances up and Adrian is still sitting there, albeit a little more humble than he looked just a moment ago. He has the decency to seem apologetic.

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself fully.”

“Why didn’t you?” Now it’s Nadya’s turn for questions.

Adrian shrugs. “These days Nicole is the only person who’s ever really honest with me here. Imagine her trying to hold back her opinion on something.”

“I can’t.”

“Exactly. But everyone else, even my own employees, they aren’t. Not entirely. I’ll admit, Nadya, when you didn’t know who I was, I saw a chance to allow myself a little sincerity. To be genuine with someone.”

Joke’s on you, she thinks wryly, I would have been this much of a mess anyway.

Still; it doesn’t sit right with her. “But don’t you realize that because you did that you weren’t sincere with me?” And how could she work for someone who wasn’t honest with her? Who didn’t allow her that basic decency?

“I do now. And I understand if that keeps you from accepting the job. I didn’t sit down with you to interview you in secret, though, please know that.” And because he knows her question before she even opens her mouth; “You were on your own, nervous, and I wanted to help — if I could. I was telling the truth when I said you reminded me of myself.

“I say that because I think, if you were in my position, maybe you would have done the same thing.”

I wouldn’t have lied, though it’s a bitter thought — and was lying by omission technically lying? Especially if it’s for everyone’s greater good?

Man her head hurts.

“Nadya…?”

She inhales with all of her might and nods. “One more question.” Which makes him smile — he appreciates the symmetry of it.

“Go ahead.”

“What made you decide to offer the job to me?”

There’s a little bit of pride in Nadya when he doesn’t have an answer right away. Adrian takes his time and really seems to mull it over — or if he’s doing it for show he’s extremely convincing.

“I didn’t know what I was looking for until I saw it.”

Nadya can’t not roll her eyes. She can’t not smile though, either.

Finally Adrian stands and nods towards the sleek elevators at the far end of the lobby. “Should we go ahead and get the paperwork started? I can show you your desk, we’ll set up your number in the system — all quick things, really.”

It’s awfully assumptive of him, but she is standing and grabbing her purse so… is it?

“Bold of you to assume I’ve accepted the job, Mister Raines.”

“Please, call me Adrian.”

#bloodbound fanfiction #bloodbound #adrian raines #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: drabble #; my fics

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lawyergear10-blog · 5 years ago

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ÄHnliche JobsuchezurüCkweiter.

Easy Ways To Be A Reliable Software Program Tester.

An Aim To The Future Of Software Application Testing.

User Interface Designer.

Leading 10 Software Application Testing Courses.

ÄHnliche JobsuchezurüCkweiter.

Which type of software testing is in demand?

Yes, of course, you can learn Selenium without knowing Java. Selenium IDE is a GUI based tool but it works only in Mozilla Firefox. However, if you want to create test cases using Selenium WebDriver, you should know one programming language out of - Java, C#, Python, Perl, Ruby, PHP.

A subreddit for those with concerns about operating in the tech market or in a computer-science-related job. I feel that in Workflow as well as QA you can easily 'burn-out' because of the lengthy hrs and repetitive job. For me development tends to be one of the most 'fun' and also therefore lowers the stress degrees. I don't recognize how difficult QA job is as I've never done it.

Easy Ways To Be An Efficient Software Tester.

Is DevOps easy to learn?

Java language and programming for Selenium Java is a vast language. However, You don't need to learn full features of Java as that's not required for selenium automation testing. You only need to learn a selected portion of Java language. That's a good news.

Experience shows that the optimum length of a test instance is between 3-8 steps. Then you will do every person on your team a huge favor, if you write clean and also thorough insect records. It's great technique to keep every one of your important communication in one place. You will require to take another look at information traded in between you and participants of your group. You will certainly do your future self a support by making it available.

How long does it take to learn software testing?

Many employers look for software tester candidates with a bachelor's degree in computer science, math or engineering, although it's not always required. If you've got a lot of experience, a stable work history and solid references or letters of recommendation, it's possible to land a job without a college degree.

and also new ones are still being produced, one should note that roughly 90% of the concepts one learns in a specific language are likewise suitable to totally different languages. When opleiding java testers knows with the core essentials, establishing comparable skills with another language just boils down to understanding the syntactical nuances. creating or coding automation script, I am expanding a lot more burnt out. # 13) Find out more books, short articles, attend testing meetup and also seminars.

Constantly think of what you can do today to relocate closer to that goal and also act appropriately. Testers are extremely passionate at the start of their professions. But when the discovering curve is filled they start feeling bored. They promptly obtain tired of writing the exact same Pest reports and performing the same test situations repeatedly.

An Aim To The Future Of Software Program Testing.

When you develop an arranged framework to store all of your important information you have the ability to collect the appropriate information and form your testing approach for that task. If you do not have a method to keep this details, after that you will certainly miss vital details.

So, quick responses, supported by smart test automation systems, is going to be essential.

A lot more software is being developed, with a lower obstacle to entry, and faster time to market.

At the very same time, testing will certainly continue to become native to the island across other components of the software program lifecycle process, with fast-evolving devices bringing tests within the reach of a lot more staff member.

While they are frequently still the unsung heroes, the work that QA professionals do is significantly acknowledged for its contributions to DevOps.

You will certainly get advice on real-world software program testing, QA, monitoring, test automation, and also advancement proficiency in a wide variety of software growth firms varying from little to large scale.

You and also the developer need to be honored and also satisfied that what has simply been launched is pest totally free (" ish"), not just you. Eventually, as others have claimed, it's a different sort of anxiety. As QA, I was continuously worried that I missed bugs I should have caught. As a programmer, my anxiety comes from feeling like I should understand how to do something already as well as I don't. That stated, it is completely possible that my anxiety degrees in a dev function are not as high because I. still do not make a great deal of huge decisions.

How can I be good tester?

Robotic Process Automation (RPA): Advances in software and AI world have paved the way for Robotic Process Automation (RPA). It is the most recent technology which has the capability to re-invent the business process management landscape. To know more about RPA's role in the software testing industry.

It is important in this regard to look for some advice and real-world assistance from gamers who have some experience in the field, as well as whose insights can aid you when making that critical pre-development decision. to script code, over time, differences will certainly emerge in between the languages. Consequently, activities that operate well in a specific language could be counter and repetitive user-friendly in a various one.

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Interface Designer.

Growth can be rather difficult during crunch time when you're required to make style concessions as well as provided no time to clean up your work. But it can be a lot of enjoyable, also, which is in fact more frequently the situation for me. It's a GREAT DEAL easier to handle the job anxiety when you recognize the work and also your coworkers. Much easier to reduce, yes, equally as simple to outsource as development is however. QA is only demanding in that you have much less job safety and security than a dev.

I will collaborate with various other devs on my group if I'm unsure concerning a specific means of doing something, or the pros and cons of 2 things that, to me, appear similarly good/bad. I angle speak for QA given that my experience is in dev however from my interactions with them, it definitely does not appear like a cinch. As soon as you begin surrounding deadlines, everybody in the process feels the warm. I've done both, and also I've been burnt out by numerous aspects of each of them.

When your goals as a tester straighten with the goals of the app, you will certainly have the ability to provide significant outcomes. A tester's mindset can indicate the distinction in between discovering the most important insect in the app and finding absolutely nothing. You simply need to choose which response makes the a lot of sense once you comprehend what the inquiry is. You are provided an application, and also you should decide what must be evaluated, what the result should be, and apply a testing technique. You raise the possibility of somebody on your team falling short to carry out a job when you include more actions to an examination situation.

Discuss what they are doing, what they have actually developed, what situations they have taken into consideration, is there anything you can contribute to help them recognize the product much better. # 7) Collaborate with the QA groups from various other projects also.

Leading 10 Software Application Testing Courses.

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Consistency provided by the WebDriver API across languages, simplifies the procedure of porting examination expertise of one language to one more. Examination engineers come to be better assets to their organizations as they can be transferred to any kind of internet project, created in any programs language, and also still have the ability to produce tests for it instantaneously.

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literary-lioness · 6 years ago

Text

Nanowrimo Day 4

When I look at my word count, I realize I am a lot further from being caught up than I originally thought, but given time, I am sure I can catch up. Positive vibes. Here is what I worked on today.

Nanowrimo Day 4

Total Word Count: 3365

Emery

Emery clung to her little Frenchie, Bucky, for the rest of the walk to the coffee shop. She had been terrified when he had wiggled out of his collar and ran into the street toward an oncoming car. Luckily, the driver of the car had quick reflexes and managed to stop before any harm had come to Emery’s little friend. Emery indulged in thoughts of the gorgeous red head that had emerged from the car.

Emery almost hadn’t said anything when the woman initially came toward her; she had been lost in the deep gray eyes, that if she wasn’t mistaken, had done an appreciative sweep of her body. Emery was only able to re-focus because Bucky had once again tried to wiggle his way to freedom. She realized she needed to apologize and instantly regretted doing so. The apology seemed to ignite a fire in the woman, and all Emery could do was continue to stupidly apologize. She had been both relieved and disappointed when the woman had gotten back into her car and driven away.

She finally arrived at Java, Snow Haven’s best coffee shop, fifteen minutes late. Emery scanned the tables and found her best friend, Lauren, sitting at the corner table with the best view of the street. Java had been their official meet up spot ever since they had moved to Snow Haven together four years before. Lauren had moved for a boy, now her husband, while Emery just needed a change of scenery after finishing up her teaching degree.

“Sorry I’m late,” Emery said as she took the seat across from Lauren.

“What was the hold up?” Lauren asked, her tone short.

“Bucky got loose, ran into the street, and almost got hit by the most insanely attractive woman I have ever seen.”

“Holy shit, is he ok?”

Emery passed Bucky over to Lauren for inspection, “He’s fine. He didn’t even realize how close he came to death. Dummy.”

Bucky nuzzled into Lauren and licked her chin, “Oh Bucky, don’t let her talk about you like that! Who’s the goodest boy? Who’s the goodest boy?”

Emery rolled her eyes, “Don’t encourage his naughty behavior.”

Lauren laughing, fed a piece of the croissant sitting in front of her to Bucky, “Ok, so tell me about the gorgeous driver. Does she have a name?”

“I’m sure she does, but I didn’t catch it. She was actually pretty pissed off; she started yelling at me about being an irresponsible pet owner.”

“Ew, rude much? It’s not like you set him free to run into the street.”

“Right?”

“Yeah! I would say that you’ll probably never see her again, but we live in a small town, so chances are you’ll see her again.”

Emery shrugged, “Under better circumstances I might not mind.”

“Oh my God, what is it about pretty women that makes you useless?”

“It’s a curse,” she said dramatically sweeping her hand to her forehead and dipping backward.

“Alright drama queen, chill out. Hey, what are your Christmas plans this year?”

Emery shifted uncomfortably in her seat, up until three months ago she was supposed to spend Christmas with her girlfriend. However, finding her in their bed with another woman had put a damper on those plans, and Lauren knew it.

“Eh, little of this, little of that. Spend time with Bucky, you know.”

“Why don’t you come over to Dave and I’s? My mom and dad will be in town, and I know they would love to see you.”

Lauren’s parents had basically raised Emery. Her father was never in the picture, and her mother worked long hours at her important marketing job, which left Emery to take care of herself at a young age. When she met and befriended Lauren in fifth grade, the lonely nights spent eating Spaghetti-O’s and toast ended.

“Maybe, I mean obviously I want to see your Mom and Dad, but I don’t want to put a damper on your and Dave’s first Christmas as a married couple.”

“You wouldn’t be, we want you there Em, you’re family.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Lauren sighed, “Is this about Jade?”

“No this isn’t about Jade.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”

“Not everything is about, Jade.”

“I thought my ears were burning,” said an all too familiar voice.

I spun around in my chair so fast I almost fell out of it, “Jade!”

“Hey, Em,” Jade gave her a sultry smile that made her squirm.

“Don’t ‘hey Em’ her, cheater,” Lauren spat.

“Lauren, lovely to see you, as always.”

“Get lost.”

“Well, I can tell I’m not welcome here,” she said turning her gaze back on Emery, “Maybe we can catch up another time.”

She walked away, tossing a wink over her shoulder. Emery hated that she watched the sway of her hips until she was out of view. Seeing Jade never failed to hit Emery with a cocktail of anger, sadness, shame, and a little bit of lingering lust. Feeling made all too familiar given they both worked at the same school. She turned back to Lauren ready for the onslaught of Jade hate.

“I’m sorry, Em.”

Emery blinked back the shock she felt. Normally Lauren would have launched into all the reasons Jade sucked, beginning with her lack of attention during their relationship and ending with the affair that had ultimately been the end of it.

“It’s fine, forget about it,” Emery said.

They spend the next hour trying to pretend that Emery was as fine as she said she was, but deep down they both knew she was lying; to herself, to Lauren, and sometimes to Bucky. They parted with a hug, “Please think about coming over for Christmas?”

“I will,” she said, though she already knew that she wasn’t interested in being with Lauren and Dave on Christmas, even if it meant seeing Lauren’s parents.

Emery tightened Bucky’s collar so that he wouldn’t be able to escape again and let him walk home beside her. It didn’t take long to reach the apartment building that housed her tiny studio apartment. When she and Jade had broken up, Jade kept the nice two-bedroom place they had shared, which suited Emery, because she didn’t want the constant reminder of her failed relationship.

She unlocked the door to her apartment and called out, “I’m home.” Knowing there would be no response, or if there was, she should defiantly run for her life. She flipped on the lights and surveyed the room.

She had done the best she could with what little space she had. She had created a sitting area that was far enough away from her bed that it felt like she had a living room, especially with the patrician that she had put up to create the illusion of more than one room. There wasn’t much in the way of decorations; she hadn’t purchased anything that she could use to decorate, mostly because everything she had considered made her think of her old apartment, and she didn’t want anything that would be a constant reminder of her break-up.

Emery walked over to the patrician and pushed it aside. She planned to allow herself an ice cream in bed and bad TV night. That was one of the benefits of living alone, no one could ask you not to eat messy chocolate ice cream in your bed while you cried when Dana died in the L-word (even though she had seen it at least five times).

She settled into her bed with her ice cream and forced herself to stop thinking about the cringeworthy wink that Jade had given her, and the uncomfortable implications that had accompanied it.

#language #nanowrimo #nanowrimo2019 #literarylionesswriting #writing challenge #word count 3365 #lesbian

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