Accuse me of not working my full 40, we'll see about that.
(long story: tl;dr at the end)
My job received some dramatic changes with the labor law changes from late last year. While it’s not technically law right now, my company is enforcing our policy to test the waters and see how it works for us. Basically this means, I can only work 40 hours a week. No overtime approval is available. Any days we work over 8 hours we have to use compensated time (comp time) to even it out. To help maintain office coverage we have meetings to plan our comp time.
To clarify, we can only use our comp time only on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays since we need a full staff on Monday and Fridays to assist our sales team. Also we can’t use it to come in late or leave early. So basically we’re left with taking long lunches (2.5-3 hours sometimes) right in the middle of the work day. But randomly, they’ll give us full days off when we work 6:30-7 hours on a weekend (which is nice, but this also is creating productivity problems). The staff who are a part of this have grown very frustrated because these long lunches are interfering with our work, meetings, appointments, and for the commuting staff they have to sit in their office for a long period of time and do nothing. Finally after a few months of this ineffective system, we told our CEO that we need to discuss some changes we think would make this better for everyone. He meets with our Exec Team and they agreed to attend our comp meeting to discuss things.
So, this Monday we all walk into the meeting with some level of hope. At the very least we’ll be heard and be able to say that we’d like to be able to come in a little late or leave a little early when things are slower. Our CEO explains his view on comp time and then a co-worker of mine explains how it isn’t working for us and it’s causing problems. Now our CEO is normally a chill guy, but he used an angry and defensive tone I’ve never seen before and went on a 15 minute rant about comp time. His rant included:
My first job in the academy, as for so many people, was as a graduate teaching fellow. … My pre-tax income for the academic year was $12,500, and my formal work responsibilities were to prepare and teach two undergraduate writing courses of my own design. The time commitment for my teaching responsibilities was assumed to be approximately twenty hours per week. In addition, it was assumed that I would undertake my own research and make progress toward my PhD.
A few points are worth noting here: first, that the research I conducted as a student (preparing for professional advancement through field exams, writing conference papers, and participating in the intellectual life of the department by attending public lectures and university seminars) was not considered work, or at least not compensable work. In my first year, like all graduate students at Brown with financial aid, I received a fellowship that provided me with a living stipend and a tuition waiver, but even in that case my research would not have been characterized as work I was doing for the university. Students are positioned as net gainers from, rather than contributors to, the reservoir of knowledge the university contains, and the fellowship stipends they receive are characterized as ‘aid’ rather than as compensation. And second, although the compensation for the formal 'work’ portion of my activities was reasonable (formally, about twenty-five dollars per hour for twenty-six weeks’ work at twenty hours per week), as an annual income it was quite modest, and yet it would have seemed remarkable and inappropriate to hold any additional job. In other words, while formally compensating me for only part of my time, the university implicitly laid claim to all of it. What is interesting about this point is not the question of whether that claim is legitimate but rather the effect it had on me: namely, the idea that I was accountable for all my time to the PhD program I was in, not just for my paid duties or even for a standard forty-hour work week, but potentially all the hours not devoted to sleeping and eating. Anecdotal evidence suggests that this erosion of a boundary between the professional and personal space is a familiar and very common effect of graduate study, and (even more anecdotally) I would observe that the people who typically enter a graduate program are likely to have the kind of personality that lends itself to this erosion: highly motivated with a strong sense of duty and an established habit of hard work and deferral of personal pleasure (or an ability to experience hard work as pleasure). In my own case, lacking any common sense about how to set practical boundaries on the work to be accomplished, I tended to feel that the research work required of me was effectively limitless: that no amount of effort could be sufficient to really complete it and that therefore no time could legitimately be spent on anything else.
Julia Flanders, “Time, Labor, and ‘Alternate Careers’ in Digital Humanities Knowledge Work”
WARNING: DADDY DRACO FEELS THAT COULD POSSIBLY KILL YOU
p.s. I’m most likely going to write a part 2 before any of you ask. ;)
word count// 2,351
December the seventh had been the due date
for your little pink bundle.
Three days had slipped by and every second of
those very long days felt excruciating to endure. You were a little over forty
weeks pregnant and more uncomfortable than ever. Sleep was near to impossible
and the immense amount of fatigue only worsened every other thing you felt. The
baby’s kicks were quite strong and you couldn’t seem to enjoy them as much as
you had near the start of the pregnancy. To top it all off, Draco was more
protective than ever and any little moan or whimper that escaped from you made
him spring into action. Irritability had become your number one symptom and
your main target was Draco.
It was December the eleventh, the start of
the fourth day after your due date. You woke up to minor contractions, but it
didn’t get your hopes up since you had been experiencing them daily. You had
slept a grand total of three hours and lied awake in bed, a hand resting on
your large belly full of at least eight pounds of baby. The red letters on the
clock read 5:45 and it remained dark
outside, the bedroom’s only form of light being from the clock.
Rain hit the glass windows and roof, creating
a soothing melody as you stared up at the ceiling. Draco’s arm lie around your
waist and his large, vein filled hand rested on your belly. His steady breath
washed over the back of your bare neck and the stray hairs from your tousled
bun tickled your skin as he breathed out. You melted back into his warm chest,
your palm going to rest on top of his and your fingers slotted between his
against the material of your long-sleeved shirt. The contractions were
continuing to plague your body and although they were spaced apart and fairly
minor, they were still a bit painful. The only place you felt content was with
A swift and harsh kick to your ribs from the
culprit in your belly caused you to suck in a sharp breath, your eyes screwing
shut in discomfort. The little girl inside you hit the same spot where yours
and Draco’s hands lie and your muscles tensed as he stirred behind you. A soft
hum vibrated his chest and his arm tightened around your waist, his palm
lightly squeezing your stomach in acknowledgment of the unborn child’s kicks.
He pushed himself up on his forearm when you shifted uncomfortably, your ribs
aching and a small contraction pulsated through your lower abdomen.
again, sweetheart?” He asked gently and ran his fingers over your swollen
Sighing at his comforting touch, your head
bobbed up and down on the pillow. “Yeah,” you breathed meekly and smiled weakly
up at the concerned face of your husband. “But I’m fine. They’re still not
strong and irregular.”
Draco moved his hand up to your flushed
cheeks and brushed away a few sweaty strands of hair. Your hot flashes had only
worsened as you progressed in the pregnancy and it was embarrassing to sweat
without having done anything. He didn’t seem to think anything of it, but you
felt like an unattractive beached whale.
His fingers never ceased in stroking your
hair and you smiled tiredly when his lips pressed to your forehead. “Do you
need anything, love?” He murmured against your skin. “I can get you some tea or
make some breakfast.”
“I need you to cuddle me,” You moaned and
shifted onto the side facing him. Your face burrowed into his t-shirt clad
chest and you breathed him in, feeling completely at ease by his side. He made
the discomfort and pain you felt bearable.
Chuckling, Draco brought you in flush to him
and he heard your muffled giggles at your bump getting in the way. He smiled
lovingly at you, his ice colored irises drinking in the tired smile on your
face. Your hair was wildly tousled from tossing and turning all night, your
skin was free of any cosmetic product and the pregnancy glow still radiated
from you as it did in the beginning. He had never imagined himself to be lying
in bed with the love of his life tangled against him and he didn’t quite understand
how you had fallen in love with him, but he was sure as hell glad you had.
You tilted your head further back to meet his
eyes just as you experienced yet another kick from the babe inside you. It was
much softer and less of a karate chop to your ribs than the previous kick.
Draco felt the gentle jab in his side since your belly was pressed to him as
close as physically possible and you smiled when he slid your shirt up,
revealing the large baby bump. You had acquired some stretch marks, but he paid
them no mind and lowered his head to talk to her like you knew he adored doing.
“Hey baby girl,” Draco cooed in the gentlest
tone he could manage. His fingertips danced along your bare bump and you
admired the adoring smile on his face when she kicked at the sound of his
voice. “It’s Daddy. Again.”
“She’s probably tired of hearing your voice,
my love,” You teased and ran your fingers through his blonde locks.
“Shush,” He said and shot you a warning look
that made you giggle. “Don’t listen to Mummy, princess. She’s mean to Daddy
You had smacked his head and tried to stifle
your laughter his messy hair. “Don’t tell our daughter that, Draco!” You
“Anyway,” Draco said and lowered his lips to
your bump again. He brushed them along the stretched skin, a mark brandishing
the once smooth flesh on your stomach, and goose bumps arose on your belly as
he kissed it softly. “You like keeping Mummy and Daddy waiting, don’t you?
We’re ready to meet you, princess.”
The clock ticked over to 6:00 and you shut your eyes for a mere second, taking in the soft
sounds of the rain hitting the glass window. You had barely been submerged into
darkness for a millisecond when you felt a gushing sensation between your legs
as if you had peed on yourself, but you knew full well that it had not been
On December eleventh, the fourth day after
your due date, your water had broken and labor begun.
Panic. Unshakable panic fell upon the house,
capturing Draco in its claws. It seemed as though the split second your water
broke and you pulled your very pregnant self from the bed, the contractions
began to grow ever so slightly stronger. As your nose scrunched up in
discomfort and your digits yanked your shirt over your stomach again, Draco
caught every grimace of pain and he felt his body frozen to the bed. His eyes
were glued onto your face and he watched as your hands came to rest just above
your hips, riding the contraction out until it descended to nothing.
“Your water broke which means you’re in
labor,” Draco said slowly, the words slowly seeping into his brain and when
they did, the panic settled in further. “Bloody hell, you’re in labor!”
You couldn’t help but giggle and take his
hands in yours, pulling him from the king sized mattress. Your fingers traced
over his knuckles soothingly and you tilted your head back, your y/e/c irises
twinkling as they gazed into his icy blue ones. “I suppose baby girl heard you
and decided to surprise you, my love,” You murmured and grinned.
He gaped down at your smaller frame before
pulling you to him, his arms wrapped around you and his hands rested on your
waist. The large baby bump pressed between you two and he kissed your forehead
multiple times, the burning of tears already blurring his vision. “I’m about to
be a Dad,” He mumbled shakily into your neck and you held him tighter as he
shook slightly in your grasp.
A gentle, subtle smile pulled at the corners
of your lips. The pads of your fingers ran along his back and you pulled back
to kiss his forehead. “You’re going to be amazing, Draco,” You hummed softly
and felt like crying yourself at his soft, adoring expression. “Now, I’m kind
of in labor so we should go to the hospital.”
“Right.” Draco heaved a sigh and blew it out
heavily. “You’re in bloody labor. Oh, merlin.”
Seconds trickled by, turning into minutes and
following with hours. You had gotten decked out in the hideous hospital gown
and the IV’s had been stuck into your veins. Nurses came and went, checking
your progress along with an occasional monitor of the baby’s heartbeat or asking
if you needed anything. You had dilated to a four and the contractions had
gotten closer together, much stronger, and more painful. The whimpers leaving
your mouth only worried Draco more and if you weren’t in immense amounts of
pain, you would’ve been slightly amused.
Your eyes screwed shut in discomfort and a
soft whimper fell upon Draco’s ears as he stood at your bedside, stroking his
pale fingers through your hair and along your perspired forehead. He hated
seeing you in pain and there was not a thing in the world he could do to make
it better. He did all he knew to do and that was to make you as comfortable as
Draco bent down to your level and kissed your
head gingerly, his right hand clutching yours. “You’re almost halfway, love,”
He cooed softly and brushed the pesky hairs out of your face. “You’re doing so
good, taking those contractions like a champ.”
Blowing out an intake of air, you pushed a
weak smile up at him. “I think labor is kicking my ass, but thanks Draco.”
He chuckled. “I’m not even the one in labor
and its kicking my ass more than yours.”
You giggled and rose up against the pillows to
peck his lips. You squeezed his hand, grinning, and said, “You’re taking labor
like a champ, babe. I promise.”
“I think I’m supposed to be telling you that.”
A mere two hours prior, you had been at four
centimeters dilated and gotten the epidural. Ten centimeters came in the blink
of an eye and the time to push was upon you before your brain could process it.
The hospital room was in a flurry of nurses and doctors prepping for delivery,
the spotlights had been switched on, and your legs were positioned to deliver
your baby girl. With a pounding heart and your belly flipping with nerves, Draco
grasped your right hand firmly and murmured comforting words into your ear through
the chaotic events unfolding rapidly.
“Alright, Mrs. Malfoy,” The doctor exclaimed
from the end of the hospital bed. “It’s time to push.”
With a fleeting glance into your husband’s
stormy irises and the distant sound of nurses reassuring you, you tucked your
chin to your chest and pushed. A strangled cry elicited from your mouth as one
of the nurses counted up to ten and you pushed through until she reached ten
before sucking in a deep breath, dropping your head to the pillow. Draco
stroked your hair and continuously peppered kisses on the top of your head or on
the slightly dampened skin of your forehead.
“M’so proud of you, my love,” He hummed into
“I love you, but we’re never having another
baby after this,” You huffed, already exhausted from one push.
Draco chortled. “Whatever you say, darling.”
For the second time, you tucked your chin in,
took a deep breath, and pushed as hard as possible because you wanted that baby
out. The pressure and burning
sensation began to intensify and after a mere few moments rest after the second
push, you were going again. After a total of five pushes, the little baby girl
was out and loud crying filled the hospital room. The moment your eyes laid on
the doctor holding your baby, wiping her off a bit, tears spilled over onto
your cheeks and you looked up at Draco. A small cry left your mouth at the
sight of his eyes glistening with tears of his own and he stooped over to kiss
your lips repeatedly, the taste of salty tears into the kiss.
“I love you so much,” He whispered and wiped
the wet streaks on your cheeks.
“I love you too,” You sniffled.
The doctor placed your baby onto your chest,
a blanket draped over the naked newborn and her little cries lessened to
whimpers. You sunk your teeth into your lip, holding back a fresh wave of
tears, and placed one of your hands on her head and the other on her tiny back.
You pressed your lips to the top of her head and traced your fingertips along
her back, soothing her whimpers to nothing.
Draco gazed at his two girls in awe. The tiny
glimpse into you as a mother had already taken his breath away and he could
feel himself falling deeper into the pit of love he held for you. Very
carefully, he brought his hand to the pink cheek of his little girl and drug
his finger along the soft skin as if it were porcelain. Never had he seen a
more beautifully ethereal thing in the entire world than the bundle that lie on
your chest. She had only been in the world for a few minutes and he was already
enthralled. He was so in love with the tiny human he had created with you.
little princess,” He hummed gently and never ceased his finger against her
small cheek. “She’s so beautiful, Y/N.”
“Of course she is.” You giggled. “She’s your
“I think it’s the other way around, my love,”
Draco said adoringly.
Your cheeks flushed and you sighed in
content, the babe on your chest stirring before falling still again. “Freya
Leigh Malfoy, already stealing hearts at a few minutes old.”
Genre: Fluff, tiny tiny angst Words: 1,442 Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Mentions of stalking, self-defense fighting Summary: Soulmate AU in which one’s heartbeat becomes perfectly in sync with their soulmate’s once they meet.
“Come on, Doll. You got it.”
You huffed, trying your best to lift the bar that was weighing you down. There were small weights on each side that were about five pounds each, and even that much was an improvement to just lifting the forty pound bar the week before.
Your arms were shaking with the effort, and when Bucky saw that you weren’t going to be able to push the bar the rest of the way up after the prior reps you had already done, he took over, taking it out of your hands and easily setting it back above you like it weighed as much as a feather.
“We can try again on Wednesday. You’re getting better.”
Mobile friendly post for BitesizeKorean. Updated on: 16.12.12
Terms of Endearment
Words of Encouragement
Colours in Korean
Common Konglish Words
Numbers in Korean
외국인 vs. 외국 사람
책방 vs. 서점
일하다 vs. 직장
숙제 vs. 과제
학교 vs. 학원
응답하다 vs. 대답하다
심지어 vs. 게다가
가격, 값 and 비용
수다 and 수다를 떨다
감사합니다, 고마워, and 고맙다.
한국어 vs. 한국말
아마 vs. 어쩌면
아니요 vs. 아니야
지금 vs. 이제
위성 vs. 달
이거 vs. 이게
항상 vs. 늘
자백 vs. 고백
평소 vs. 보통
오전 vs. 아침
어쩌면, 아무래도, and 아마
1등 vs. 1위
아니에요 vs. 천만에요
원하다 vs. 싶다
부인 vs. 아내
미안하다 vs 죄송하다
뭐 vs 무슨
친절 vs 친절하다 vs 친절한
창피 vs 민망
(-았/었어요) vs (-고 있어요)
있면 vs 있다면
당신은 vs 너는
명 vs 분
너무, 진짜 and 아주
유방 vs 가슴
서운하다 vs 슬프다
Bright and Dark Vowels
Particles 은/는 and 이/가
을/를 Object Marking Particles
이다 (To be)
아니다 (To not be)
~(으)ㄹ수록 [~(으)면 ~(으)ㄹ수록] (The more… the more…)
~ㄹ/을 계획 (To have plans to…)
잘/못 하다 (to be good/bad at something)
Particles: 에게/함테/께 and 에게서/한테서
Particles 에서 and 에
~(으)ㄴ/는 편이다 (Stating characteristics)
Expressing desire to possess a noun ~고 싶어요
Pronouns in Korean: I, me, my, mine
지 and the ~는 것 principle
~아/어/여야 되다 or ~아/어/여야 하다 (to have to)
What does 눈치 mean?
Basic Korean curriculum plan! Pt.2
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Is ㄱ ‘g’ or a ‘k’?
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Nouns in Korean
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ㅍ,ㅂ, and ㅃ
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How to say “please” in Korean
Negatives in Korean
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Greetings on the phone?
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Korean Sentence Structure
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What do stressed syllables mean in Korean?
네 as 네 or as 니?
What does 인정 mean?
How do you use compliments like “cutie” in Korean?
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고민: One’s worries
What does 왜그래 mean?
ㄹ sounding as L and R?
Resources for learning about culture?
Thoughts on TTMIK?
Are there other times to use 여보세요?
What do you say when you answer the phone?
How to say Happy Birthday in Korean?
Hangul characters and syllables explanation
Does 때문에 have a negative nuance?
Understanding Konglish words
How to say “Excuse me” to pass through
Do commas exist in Korean?
How to ask questions in Korean part 2
Is there a specific stroke order to Hangul?
How to say “embarrassing” in Korean
How to identify the subject and object in a sentence?
How to pronounce hanja?
How to say the year in Korean?
Common spelling mistakes in Korean
Understanding dictionary form
Hangul character names and alphabetical order
How to pronounce compound consonants in Korean
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Is there a difference between 화이팅 and 파이팅?
What does 주룩 mean?
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가재는 게 편이라
개미 구멍으로 둑도 무너진다
가는 말이 고와야 오는 말이 곱다
거지도 부지런하면 더운 밥 얻어 먹는다
가려운 곳을 긁어 주다
거미 새끼같이 흩어진다
가랑비에 옷 젖는 줄 모른다
개천에서 용 난다
공자 앞에서 문자 쓴다
곧은 나무 먼저 찍힌다
고양이에게 생선을 맡기다
선무당이 사람 잡는다
천 리 길도 한 걸음부터
작은 고추가 맵다
잠을 자야 꿈을 꾸지
원숭이도 나무에서 떨어진다
돌다리도 두드려 보고 건너라
달도 차면 기운다
빛 좋은 개살구
말을 씹다 or 문자를 씹다
”내 맘에 깊이 가득 차버린 공허한 세상 나를 구해줘” Reset - Tiger JK
“이 끝이 없는 미로 속에서 어서 날 꺼내줘” Love is not over (full version) - BTS
“난 숨쉬고 싶어 이 밤이 싫어 이젠 깨고 싶어 꿈속이 싫어” Save me - BTS
“난 꿈이 있어요 그 꿈을 믿어요 나를 지켜봐요” A Goose’s Dream - InSoo
“다시 run run run 난 멈출 수가 없어 또 run run run 난 어쩔 수가 없어” Run - BTS
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My mother tongue is English!
What is your name?
Most people call me Elle (pronounced Ellie)! My real name is Emily.
Will you add audio to your study cards?
I did consider making audio for the pronunciation, however I came to the conclusion that the quantity of vocabulary I’m supplying each week is already being juggled on top of university work. So making videos or audio would only increase the work and provide difficult to keep up. Although, I’m not completely dismissing the idea, so I’ll see what happens!
Will you add romanisation to you study cards?
I personally don’t think that romanisation is necessary, and quite often, it seems to be that learners can find it restrictive. This is mainly due to the fact that it can actually inhibit proper pronunciation and hinder reading fluency. Romanisation also has the habit of contradicting advanced pronunciation rules, and for these reasons, I don’t like to include it. I also had an open discussion with most of you about adding it - and it seems that a majority would dislike me to include romanisation. I apologise for the inconvenience.
Am I allowed to save the study card you’ve made?
Of course. That’s why I make them! ;) However, I do not allow the re-uploading of any of my flashcards without first asking permission. I put time and effort into these study cards, and it’s upsetting to see my work posted without proper credit.
Why did you start learning Korean?
I love language, and have dabbled in many! I decided to learn a language completely different to anything I’ve learnt before, so I picked Korean randomly. I fell in love with it, and from there I’ve found a secret passion for Korean drama!
What other languages have you studied/know?
I have studied German, French, Russian, Japanese, and have recently just started to learn Danish. Although, Korean has been the most fun!
Summary: daddy!Chris Evans x Reader where the reader is pregnant with Chris’s daughter, but she’s born prematurely and has to stay in the NICU for a while (as requested by @chanelzs) Word count: 1264 Warnings: birth, feels, fluff
The most important lessons consistently taught by schools under the state are to obey arbitrary authority, to accept the imposition of other people’s priorities on our lives, and to stop daydreaming. When children start school, they are self-guided, curious about the world they live in, and believe everything is possible. When they finish, they are cynical, self-absorbed, and used to dedicating forty hours of their week to an activity they never chose. They are also likely to be miseducated about a number of things, perhaps unaware that a majority of human societies throughout history have been egalitarian and stateless; that the police have only recently become an important and supposedly necessary institution; that their government has a track record of torture, genocide, and repression; that their lifestyles are destroying the environment.
I honestly don’t understand why there aren’t more people who, when given the platform to discuss minimum wage, don’t simply distill it to the simplest of facts:
A forty hour work week is considered full time.
It’s considered as such because it takes up the amount of time we as a society have agreed should be considered the maximum work schedule required of an employee. (this, of course, does not always bear out practically, but just follow me here)
A person working the maximum amount of time required should earn enough for that labor to be able to survive. Phrased this way, I doubt even most conservatives could effectively argue against it, and out of the mouth of someone verbally deft enough to dance around the pathos-based jabs conservative pundits like to use to avoid actually debating, it could actually get opps thinking.
Therefore, if an employee is being paid less than [number of dollars needed for the post-tax total to pay for the basic necessities in a given area divided by forty] per hour, they are being ripped off and essentially having their labor, productivity, and profit generation value stolen by their employer.
Wages are a business expense, and if a company cannot afford to pay for its labor, it is by definition a failing business. A company stealing labor to stay afloat (without even touching those that do so simply to increase profit margins and/or management/executive pay/bonuses) is no more ethical than a failing construction company breaking into a lumber yard and stealing wood.
Our goal as a society should be to protect each other, especially those that most need protection, not to subsidize failing businesses whose owners could quite well subsidize them on their own.
Happy (belated) birthday to @villains-happy-ending! You were my first fandom friend, Aimee, the first one to welcome me to this crazy nook of the internet and you were the one that introduced me to a lot of people people that are nowadays extremely big parts of my life too. So for all of that, and because you’re such an amazing person in general, I’ve written you a little (cough cough) birthday gift. (Prepare for a lot of nautical puns)
A Podcast AU (inspired by an actual podcast I came across a couple of days ago) where Emma gets obsessed with Killian’s maritime podcast Seatimes and of course life finds a way to make their paths cross
(The italic bits are little fragments of Killian’s podcast. Non-italics are Emma’s pov)
She stumbled upon Seatimes as she was researching a case. The skip was a selfish, misogynistic prick that wore Lacoste polos tied around his neck, a $200-dollar salmon-colored shirt, and a pair of shoes that was probably worth twice, if not thrice, the amount of money his shirt cost. He got thrown into holding for embezzlement of his own company’s funds, owned an actual boat and still ran away from every attempt made to make him settle up; he kept and kept on refusing to pay his bail. And so, Emma was brought into the picture.
Following his movements, both real life and online, like a hawk, Emma came to the conclusion that the rich, embezzling jackass was in search of someone to cheat on his wife with. He wasn’t even trying to be coy about his search for a mistress. Every picture on the account he had set up on some sleazy dating site were either of his precious boat or of him bare-chested and holding in his stomach on his precious boat.
Not a lot more backstory was needed to figure out the way to crack this case. Emma had to become the woman of all women to him. The one that, unlike all the rest of womankind according to him, had knowledge of boats and how currents worked, and all of that and not to forget a pretty face and nice figure. Luck would have it that Mother Nature and a lot of exercise had granted Emma the latter but the former… not so much.
She sadly– not very sadly if it meant staying clear of Mr. Douchebag– belonged to the general, uninteresting part of her gender, so she was forced to gain a life worth of knowledge in a short period of time. Three days to be more exact, because her skip had agreed to a date in four. Three days to become an expert.
“Welcome to Seatimes. I am Jones. Consider me your Captain to cross the wild and murky waters of naval and maritime knowledge. Each week will feature a guest as well as some must know things about the soaring seas and the ship sailing them. I hope that by the end of these podcasts, you will consider yourselves more of an expert on the subject.”
A/N: This is written for not only my lovely anon who requested it, but @goblackhatwithme because she is a doll and in need of some Sirius right now. It is not my best work at all and I am sorry for that. I will probably actually rework this and repost when I deem it to be better. Anyways, I’m just rambling at this point. I hope you all enjoy, and sorry that it is so short!
Request from Anon: Since James Birthday was not long ago, can you please write an imagine where the reader is James twin and everyone is celebrating the occasion (golden trio era and next gen) and the Voldemort thing never happened? Maybe a family/friend quidditch game? (Sirius x reader please too) tysm if you do this !! 💓💓
Forty-six was a very important number in Sirius Black’s lifetime.
It took him approximately forty-six seconds after he first saw you to become enchanted.
Your hair, your eyes, your smile–he wanted to know everything about you. You caught him by surprise and he was shocked. He had never seen such beauty, and wondered how someone could seem as perfect as you.
‘Cosette is ill with a malady which is going the rounds of the neighbourhood. A miliary fever, they call it. Expensive drugs are required. This is ruining us, and we can no longer pay for them. If you do not send us forty francs before the week is out, the little one will be dead.’
Drabble Challenge - Prompt 84 - “Show me what’s behind your back.” Filled for @novemberhush
Thank You, Dee, I hope you enjoy reading it. xx
They had been living together for nearly a year now, and in that time Mike had noticed one place that Harvey seemed to hold sacred in his walk-in wardrobe; a drawer that contained his ties. Every morning as he lazed about in their bed, he would watch Harvey spend way too much time standing in front of it before he chose a tie. Harvey was particular about and took pride in his image, but even for him, the daily selection was taking too long.
It drove him crazy, but he resisted the urge to sneak a peek for forty-nine weeks, two days, seven hours, thirty-one minutes and seven seconds.
He arrived home early that afternoon and figured he could get away with just a quick peek, in and out, no harm in that, right?
He slid the draw open, observing the neat lines of silk ties, most of them hues of grey or blue, and a few purple ones at the back. If you weren’t looking, the two subtle little pieces of ribbon on either side of the drawers could easily be missed. Mike clasped them and gave a gentle tug, and the layer of ties pulled up and slid easily back atop the back half of the drawer. Below are an array of neatly organised items; a picture of his niece and nephew, some very expensive looking cuff links, a journal, some other important looking papers, and a ring box.
He’s come this far; he may as well examine the contents thoroughly; he reasons picking up the navy velour box.
He expects to find some old family heirloom, maybe from Harvey’s grandmother who as Harvey tells it, always had a soft spot for him. Instead, he finds a beautiful plain gold band with two platinum lines weaved around it, crossing over one another. He is stunned, and his breath hiccups in his throat as he gawks at the beautiful ring. Removing it carefully from the box, he twirls it around in his fingers, before reading the inscription.
His heart flutters, and a warm wave of emotion swept through his body as tears build in the corners of his eyes. Harvey wanted to marry him.
He slipped the ring on, it was a tight fit, but that was probably because his heart was racing. He held out his hand to examine how it looked. Of course, Harvey chose perfectly, the width and style were elegant and understated he thought gushing. Then the guilt set in. Harvey deserved to see his face when he saw the ring for the first time. He glared at himself crossly in the mirror, of course, he had gotten carried away.
The front entrance door banged shut, and Mike immediately began to panic, yanking at his finger to pull the ring off but it wouldn’t budge. The more he pulled in his panic, the redder and more swollen the area became, and the less likely it was that it was coming off. Shit.
“Are you here, Mike?” Harvey called from the kitchen.
“Ahh … Ahem yep, in the bedroom,” he replied, cursing under his breath.
He slid the robe’s door closed and tried to look casual standing in the middle of the bedroom with his right hand on his hip and his left hand hanging loosely behind his leg.
When Harvey walked in, he noticed Mike looking akin to a Macy’s mannequin, except for his face which looked very guilty. In total, it took the best closer in New York ten seconds to work out that something was awry. He narrowed his eyes and stalked forward, giving Mike an inquisitive look. Mike instinctively took a step back and hid his hand up his shirt.
“Mike?” He urged, “Show me what’s behind your back.”
Mike’s head dropped in shame, and he mentally beat himself up for ruining this moment for them.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled to the floor as he revealed his hidden left hand and held it out for inspection, then waited for Harvey to speak.
Unexpectedly, Harvey chuckled, “Maybe the inscription should have read, ‘My Puppy, Snoopy’.”
Mike smiled despite wanting the ground to swallow him up.
“Are you mad?” Mike asked hesitantly and lifted his eyes from the floor.
Twelve pearly white teeth, ten laughter lines, two dimples, and eight crow’s feet made up the beautiful face of the man standing before him now, with tears shining in his eyes.
“I will be if you say no!” Harvey hinted, clearly amused.
Harvey dropped to his knee and kissed Mike’s swollen ring finger, looking hopefully up at him.
“Marry me?” Harvey asked, his voice soft and with a slight quaver to it.
“Fuck yes!” Mike cried and tackled him onto the plush carpet to kiss his amazing fiancé stupid.
Authors note: Awww, they love each other. 😍 Thanks for reading. This is fic number 3, out of 8. You can find the others on AO3 here - Millie’s Mini Marvey Musings
were a lot of advantages to working in a small, three person office; no
gossip, no drama, and a grateful, genuinely kind boss who recognized
how vital her two employees were to keep things running. There were
downsides, too, like not having anyone new, or at least different, to
talk to for forty hours a week and the generally slow nature of the
business, which meant I probably spent more time surfing the net than I
did doing actual work.
In the beginning, it was pretty much ideal; I did the work that came
my way and then spent the rest of my day doing whatever I wanted (within
reason, the boss lady still liked to believe I was being productive).
After a couple years, however, it had started to get pretty old. The job
was dull and unfulfilling and I got zero satisfaction out of it, but I
was far too loyal to Tanya to leave, so I was stuck in a sort of limbo.
This was the last thing you expected. This was the last thing you needed right now. There was no way this was happening. These were the thoughts that were running through your mind as you stared down at the pregnancy that tested with positive results. This was definitely happening. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know if you should cry or what. A baby was the farthest thing from your mind, and you weren’t even sure how Sam would react. You never even really talked about having kids to begin with. Things in your’s and Sam’s life were about to take a drastic turn down a road you never thought you would take.