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@bekturan
βIt's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.β
NAME: Kelebek Γzge Turan
PREFERRED NAME/NICKNAME(S): Bek
AGE: Thirty-four
BIRTHDAY: September 7th, 1990
ZODIAC: Virgo sun, tbd moon, tbd rising
RESIDENTIAL AREA: Downtwon
OCCUPATION: Physical Therapist
LENGTH OF TIME IN COVINGTON: Ages 4-tbd, 32 to present
FULL BACKSTORY | HEADCANONS | CONNECTIONS | PINTEREST
location: nolan's tavern
status: open to anyone (capped at 0/4)
With her leather bound planner sat off to her right, a row of highlighters and pens meticulously lined up straight ahead, and a stack of manila folders to her left Bek looked like she belonged at home, at her desk, more than she did a crowded bar. Something about the chaotic hum of background noise oddly soothed her, though. It canceled out the racing thoughts that otherwise typically filled her head.
And it was there, in the blissful sweet spot of clarity and focus, that she got her best work done. The randomly discovered trick was a boon for her... but not so much the other patrons who came in for a stiff drink and a bite to eat.
The baby hairs at the back of her neck lifted, tipping her off to a presence nearby. She'd almost bet money they were interested in the only free stool left. The stool that just so happened to be blocked by both her tote bag and her spread.
"Sorry, sorry. Let me justβ" Knocking her bag to the floor and carefully picking up her piles of folders Bek maintained a downcast gaze, if only to ignore the flush of heat across her face. "I got here hours ago when it wasn't so... this." Packed. Busy. Limited on seating. "Guess you could say I have a hard time leaving work at work, you know?"
open to: anyone
location: the docks out on the saugatuck harbor
It's only been a month since Max has settled down into the quiet and sometimes quaint, town of Westport. And that's been long enough for him to realize what little it has to offer in terms of excitement. Outside of some good seafood and the occasional sunset that drips over the Long Island Sound, he's not sure he even likes it.
Although today he's distracted on behalf of the fact that, he's been out fishing. Trying not to piss off his new boss which really just consists of an old widowed man, just trying to make a decent living before returning home to his dog and empty nest.
As Max unloads the catch of the day from the boat onto the dock, he notices someone approaching a dead plank a few feet away that at any moment was going to give out and send someone's foot sliding right through it. "Hey!" He attempts to catch them before that happens. "Watch out!" When it appears they don't hear him, he offers a grunt and intervenes by practically shoving them out of the way. "Unless you feel like going for a swim today, I wouldn't cross here. This dock isn't very sturdy. The old man is giving me trouble every time I offer to fix it." Which, he'd done shockingly, for free. Or at the very least, in exchange for a hot meal.
But, convincing old man Jack to do anything was like pulling his teeth. He reminded Max a lot of his little brother. Stubborn, pigheaded and at often times, hard to reason with.
"Also you're welcome for the save."
Dinner with mom and dad Tuesday night at seven. Focused shockwave therapy seminar Wednesday morning at nine. Gavin Porter just rescheduled to Wednesday afternoon at two-thirty. Meeting with Sandra in HR Thursday at ten.
Dinner with mom and dad Tuesday night at seven. Focused shockwave therapy seminar Wednesday morning at nine. Gavin Porterβ A rough pair of hands suddenly shoved Bek out of place and, like ashes lost in the wind, the list of obligations she'd been meticulously repeating scattered.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Was Gavin's new appointment Wednesday afternoon or Thursday morning? Or was he Wednesday morning, Sandra that afternoon, and the seminar on Thursday at ten? Already she'd forgotten and tendrils of panic began to snake through her chest.
Without even tuning into whatever the mountain of a man was saying Bek shot him a scathing glare from where she was all but pasted against a vacant bait shop on the opposite side of the docks. "If physical assault is your concept of chivalry, sir, your parents really need to be fired from the job."
Chances were he had an excuse (hopefully) for the not so gentle push but, again, she hadn't listened. After straightening and dusting her hands off the thighs of her scrubs she fixed him with another look, this time scrutinizing his unfamiliar face. "What the hell was that for anyway?"
Hande ErΓ§el in BambaΕka BiriΒ 1.01
location: the turan family home in sterling lake, a few hours past sundown
status: closed for @reyhansolmaz
"Baba, lΓΌtfen." Bek dropped her head into the cradle of both hands, the sound of a muffled groan soon to follow. "She does not need to know all about the time I was cast as Tree number three in the first grade play."
Itβd been this way since the moment they arrived.
After breaking their fast with stuffed dates and glasses of milk, after saying the Tarawih prayer, her parents immediately set out on a mission to regale their guest with tales of Bekβs childhood from toddler to teenager.Β
She wasnβt sure her cheeks had ever stayed so damn pink.Β
But with a hearty laugh from Ekrem and a playful swat at his shoulder from Sevda the older couple excused themselves, leaving their daughter and Rey alone at what was left of the iftar table.
βSorry about them.β Although, despite the (tenth) apology a small smile remained as she tore apart a piece of pide bread. βIβd like to say theyβre not usually like thisβ¦ but they are.β
location: bek's apartment, downtown
status: closed for @stevienelson
"Somebody help me. Please..." It was a soft, desperate plea. "There's no more peanut M&Ms in the freezer"β Glasses on, laptop open, a spread of papers scattered across her lap, Bek jolted out of the dream and upright in bed, wincing from the assualt of sunlight peeping through sheer curtains.
Daylight. That was daylight. And at her front doorβ Another knock rattled the old wooden plank in its frame, its sound echoing throughout her otherwise silent apartment.
Shit. What time was it? Forget that, what day was it? Was she late for work?
"Coming. I'm coming!" Tripping and stumbling her way out of bed and through the room she somehow made it to the entrance in one piece.
Blinking sleep from bleary, bloodshot eyes she cracked the door open an inch. Stevie - not her landlord or, more inexplicably, her boss - stood on the other side. "Hey." A yawn cracked across her face while she stepped back, silently welcoming her in. "I'm sorry. Did Iβ Do we have plans?"
She scooted her chair back trying to hide a grin. "Guard my stuff. I'll be right back." Dakota decided to go get the coffee and muffin, no, muffins before Bek could even consider thinking about changing her mind.
Coming back a few minutes later she set Bek's coffee and two muffins down in front of her. "Shut up about the two muffins and eat before you drop from hunger too."
Again a playful glare got sent the older woman's way, grin coming out. "Yeah yeah. You don't have a cruel bone in your body. You were lucky and you got to see the rare non-chaotic child I was. Not everyone has had that privilege."
That was...did she count the times she got dragged out as showcasing? "Open mic nights no. I have been known to take my guitar and attempt to serenade Stevie just to be a little asshole to the point Mrs. Anderson and the little group she hangs out with get disappointed when I don't show up guitar in hand. The porch and the tree in the backyard is the one who's gotten the most of a show outta me and even then it's just me sitting there with my laptop trying to figure out chords to a song." She shrugged.
"I feel like I need to ask why."
Kota wouldn't hear a peep of complaint out of Bek. Her body screamed for the sugar/caffeine boost promised, and she'd be a fool not to take advantage while she still could.
With Ramadan right around the corner it wouldn't be long before she'd have to fast from sun up to sun down.
"Have I ever told you that you're my favorite twin?"
No shade to Keegan, but she'd never once spoiled her with free coffee and warm muffinsβ And everyone knew when it came to Bek through her stomach was the surest way to her heart.
It was a few moments later, after a sip of the latte and no less than three bites, that she explained, "The hospital charity gala is coming up soon." Considering this year it was her department - the physical therapy department - who benefited from all proceeds she'd offered herself up to be on the planning committee.
"I just remember wherever you went your guitar and a sketchbook were never far behind. Wasn't sure if you'd maybe be interested in donating a piece for the silent auction, or getting up on stage to play."
Ultimately those sorts of things weren't her decision, and it sounded like Kota didn't quite do the whole live performance thing, butβ "If you are I could throw your name in the hat, just in case. I think they're trying to stay local all the way around."
He had noticed the woman browsing the robotics section just as intently as he was. When she picked up a magazine that he knew from experience would lead to frustration, he felt compelled to gently steer her in a better direction. It would save her from wasting her time. "I'm more of a hobbyist myself." Building robots had been a passion of his since childhood. There was something so satisfying about working with his hands to assemble the intricate mechanisms. Now as an adult, robotics projects were his favorite pastime, allowing him to tinker and problem solve. Each new creation was a fun challenge.
Handing her the better magazine, he knew his recommendation would save her some of the headaches he'd endured during his early days of trial and error. He remembered all too well the countless hours spent puzzling over unclear diagrams and vague instructions as a novice.
"That one has some great tutorials and diagrams that really break things down in a clear way," he continued. The visuals and step-by-step walkthroughs had been invaluable when he was first starting out. He hoped they would help shorten her learning curve.
"Oh yeah, I'm Nolan, by the way," he said, introducing himself with a friendly smile. "Let me know if you need any other recommendations. I'd be happy to point you toward the guides and kits I've found most useful over the years. It's a really fun hobby once you get the hang of it."Β
βIβm Bek.β That it was nice to meet him, especially at a time when sheβd been swamped by the many options, went without saying. βAnd honestly Iβm not sure what Iβd call myself beyond a curious mind.β
She didnβt work in the field, so professional was out, and as far as a hobbyist wentβ Well, sheβd never built a robot in her life. Heβd caught her right in the infancy stage of a new hyperfixation that hadnβt ventured far beyond late night musings and a few searches on the internet.Β
βI like to stay busy and challenge myself, so I guess you could blame the interest on that.β Was she over sharing? Probably. Did that stop her from initiating an actual conversation? Not at all. βReally though, I work in physical therapy and ever since we got some new equipment in Iβve been intrigued.β
It was then that she looked at the magazine and her stack of books again, grimacing. βAdmittedly, itβs probably a little too ambitious to think Iβd ever understand it on that scale butβ¦β She tied the thought off with another faint smile and a shrug.
βHave you been at it long?β
Generally, he could spot her just about anywhere. There wasn't a thing about her that hadn't been ingrained into his memory, especially when nostalgia called upon Jeremy to look back upon happier times in his life. However, so frustrated and adrenaline pumping, he hadn't clearly seen Bek before speaking to her. His eyes were scanning the vicinity for the troubled twenty-something on the loose.
When he stopped in front of her Jeremy had to pull in a breath to steady himself, for more reasons than one. Blue eyes fell on her and scanned her face. It happened each time, the few times, they'd run into each other since she'd made her return to Covington. What he'd noticed was her maturity. Her face had thinned out and made her features look more carved, and devastating to a simple man like him that had wondered how a girl like Bek had ever given him a chance, much less look his way.
"It's probably best you didn't hear that," he quipped, eyes dipped to her lips as his own formed a slight smirk. They traveled around to see that she was busy, in the middle of something, and a hand of his outstretched in silent offer. "Need help?"
For two whole years they'd been so engrossed in each other's lives and now the distance between them was palpable. Of course, that was a long time ago, things were bound to change. "Ah, you know," his shoulders shrugged as a hand lifted to smooth his long hair back, "caught him pulling money out of the till and I'm the asshole for wanting him to put it back." Jeremy's head shook, everything with Derek was so troublesome and he no longer knew what he could do to fix it.
βOh, I dunno,β she drawled, a smirk manifesting itself across her mouth to mirror his own. βI think I couldβve used a bit of comic relief after playing errand boy all day.β
Which is exactly the comment that brought her attention back to the box in her hands and those still waiting.Β
Blame it on busy schedules or on a reluctance to travel too far down memory lane but in the few times theyβd run into each other over the last twelve months they didnβt tend to linger. That heβd do so now, pause his pursuit to find Derek just to help her nowβ Bekβs bottom lip wedged between her teeth.Β
βUh, sure.β Transferring the one sheβd been holding into his hands she tamped down what threatened to become a grin. βThanks, Jer.β And for the next minute or so they worked side by side, Bek sneaking him quick, covert glances all the while.Β
The strong jaw edged in scruff, the long and slightly unkempt hairβ It was almost funny how thirteen years had come and gone and yet, if she thought hard enough, let herself sink deep into the memories, she could still remember the feel of both against her skin.
But she wouldn't. She absolutely would not think about that or then or them. At least not until they'd parted ways again.
No, she just kept at it and then explained, βThe hospital gala is coming up soon and I volunteered to be on the planning committee,β when at last the final box of invitations, RSVP cards, signage, and the like was loaded up. βI, uh, I work there now. At Cov Gen, I mean.β
Did he already know that? Did he know she wasnβt the same lost girl heβd found in Boston, off on some masochist mission to face down MIT and all her shattered dreams? Did he know sheβd eventually gone to college, or that she realized instead of computer science she wanted to pursue a doctorate in physical therapy?
Had he kept tabs on her even a little bit, even at all?
But there is something that happens when you are told you are Too Much You begin to ask everyone, how small would you like me?
β Mary Lambert, from βYou Are with the Wrong Person,β Shame Is an Ocean I Swim Across
WHO β Open. WHEN β Afternoon. WHERE β Downtown, likely somewhere near The Anchor. β
βHey, you seen an angry twenty-six year old storm this way?β Jeremyβs voice was gruff, showing signs of both his exhaustion and worn patience. In some ways he could accept that he was a bit in the wrong. It was hard to step out of that role of being something more than an older brother, something closer to fatherly, when it came to Derek. When their mother passed, Jeremy had to take over caring for his younger siblings and at the time he hadnβt been equipped for that. Either way, their conversation at least a half an hour prior had turned from easy going to a near row when Derekβs twenty-something angst at the world showed itself.Β βHeβs about yay high,β a hand flattened just slightly above his shoulder,Β βand was likely cursing under his breath about what a fucking asshole I am.β
That voiceβ It was almost funny how Bek struggled to remember if she paid her rent or what next appointment she had in place (you know, things that immediately mattered) yet all this time later she still hadnβt forgotten the distinct timber of that voice.
Hadn't forgotten who it belonged to, or what he once meant.
It wasn't the first time they'd seen each other since Boston; it was almost impossible not to cross paths in a town like Covington. Still, like all those times before, Bek had to mentally brace herself before turning to take in Jer full force.
He was older now, a bit broader, too, and the burden of responsibility weighed heavy in his eyes, but he wasβ She swallowed hard, snapping herself out the inconvenient little reverie.
"I can't say whether or not he was cursing you to hell and back," the confession came with the ghost of a quiet chuckle, "but I saw him storm that way while I was putting stuff into the car."
There was a new pause then, as if she wasn't sure it was any of her business. And it wasn't, not anymore, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering, "What's got Derek pissed off at you this time?" | @jeremylincoln
βHuh.β Lee considered the idea, and while he supposed it made sense, a highlights section of sorts, he was also struck by how very much he wasnβt a planner or journal person. Then again, this was very much not about him, and it hardly mattered how utterly nondescript his nonexistent planner would be. βRight, well, I am happy to track down post-it notes. If youβre sure you donβt mind me looking at all this?β He didnβt know how personal it was, a planner. A record of how you spent your day was kind of inherently personal, and he had been purposefully not paying attention to the words in the body of each page. But looking for stray post-its was a different kind of search.
Lee had been squatting, hastily gathering pages, but now that he was going to be doing a closer look, he dropped to the ground, crossing his legs in front of him. He paged back through his hastily assembled stack, and much as he wouldβve liked to announce otherwise, didnβt find a single post-it, errant or otherwise. So he started with the pages still on the ground.
He could understand the whole thing was upsetting, even if he didnβt quite know why it was so upsetting, but he didnβt like the slightly manic air to the proceedings. Hopefully, whether he was able to help or not, those post-its would turn up. But he suspected it would be easier to search, to actually see what they were looking for, with a little infusion of calm. βIβm Lee, by the way,β he said as he added to his stack. | @bekturan
βNo, thereβs nothing to be seen thatβs too private or personal.β Heaven forbid she ever lose the entire thing, she kept the information rather simple and made a point not to never write identifying details about her patients.Β
The planner was her lifeline, the best method sheβd found to circumvent her memory problems, but her version of shorthand was almost a language unto itselfβ One only she could understand.Β
βThis is already embarrassing enough, so Iβm not sure this will help your opinion of me,β Bek chuckled self consciously, βbut this is actually the planner for my planner.βΒ
In other words: what she carried with her everywhere so that she could write reminders and pen appointments as they were made, but only so that she could transfer it all into the real thing back home. That one was extensiveβ¦ and never left her desk.Β
Moments later a smile loosely graced her lips, still somewhat sheepish, but she answered, βIβm Bek. And I swear Iβm not usually this much of a disaster.β Debatableβ¦ but mostly true. βI owe you a coffee, at the very least, for helping me.β | @leeabhrams
"If I minded, I wouldn't have offered. I may be a menace to society, but even I was raised better than that. You sure that's all you want?"
It was funny; the older she'd gotten, the quieter the house had become with her sisters gone, Dakota hadn't become any less instinctive when it came to hiding what she was up to. Any other person she wouldn't have bothered to offer the seat.
Then again she was also afraid if she didn't, Bek might just drop to the floor right there from exhaustion. That look in her eye was familiar.
She playfully glared, trying to hide the grin. "Hey now, struggling artist, not starving, thank you very much."
Dakota paused, mulling over the idea. Baking? Not really her thing. However, her oldest sister was due to make a visit soon, and baking was Olivia's thing. The drinks? She could definitely do those.
"I knew there was a reason you were my favorite of Olivia's friends. Speaking of, hang on one second." She scribbled down the suggestions before she fumbled her phone out of her pocket, firing off a text.
"Hell, I can even just take the mocha idea and run with it for both too. Throw mint or something in there for St. Patrick's Day, keep the colored sugar going for spring. You and the rest of 'em may have chosen...well okay one of them technically went into science, the other two didn't, but my point; the people like their chocolate and if there's one thing I can't escape when I go to the store; it's all the damned Easter chocolate. Bek, you're a genius."
βWellββ Bek drawled with a sly little glance at Kotaβs muffin and a smirkβ βI guess I wouldnβt complain if you wanted to throw one of those my way, too.β She couldnβt remember for sure but it was entirely possible she hadnβt eaten anything but a granola bar all day.Β
And with that thought suddenly she was the one starving.Β
βYou know, if I were a cruel person Iβd point out those two are only a few letters different from being the same thing.β Except twin dimples popped in her cheeks, belying the fact that she really was teasing. Bek didnβt need to have a creative bone in her body to appreciate when someone had true talent and dedication to their art.
Dismissing the βgeniusβ declaration without comment (she really didnβt think sheβd suggested anything groundbreaking), she kept her thoughts on those moments, those random glimpses across the street, instead. βDo you ever play at open mic nights or share your work?β
The question was mostly born of curiosity but sheβd be lying if she tried to say there wasnβt an idea brewing now that it was out.Β | @dakotaheise
location: mystic grill
status: closed for @elianaalmeida
By nature Bek was not someome prone to prying. Everybody's business was their own business, and if they wanted to clue her in they'd do it. Plain and simple.
So why couldn't she get the night of the auction off of her brain? Or, more specifically, Ellie's attendance and the whopping five grand win she claimed. It'd completely caught her off guard. Not just because that was a stupid amount of money to spend on a single date, but because it'd been spent on Ryan Parrish.
Someone who openly admitted to (insanity) hating the king gummy snack of all gummy snacks, aka Swedish Fish. It didn't make any sense.
"So how do you know Ryan?"
They were meant to be discussing more plans for the upcoming gala over a late lunch but the far too personal question blurted free before she could catch it. With a wince, Bek muttered, "Sorry. I justβ I saw you at the auction last month."
And if there's one word she would've used to describe Ellie's side of the all out war that transpired, it'd be determined.
LOCATION: The Lost Page
DATE: 02/22/2024
WITH: Open to everyone
He browsed the shelves of the bookstore, his fingers trailing over the spines of books on robotics. With the weekend ahead, he was looking forward to dive into a new project. It would be something to challenge his growing skills in building robots. The shop was quiet, save for the soft rustle of pages and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards. He looked over at a fellow enthusiast who had just picked up a magazine he'd read before and found lacking. "I wouldn't recommend that one," he said and reached for a different publication. It was instrumental in his last build. "Try that one. You'll have better luck." He handed it over, hoping to steer the person away from frustration and pulling out their hair.
Kelebek Turan was a firm believer that no advancement in machinery or artificial intelligence could replace the empathetic element required in physical therapy, but she couldn't deny robotics had certainly found their place within the field.
And, Bek being Bek, it wasn't enough to merely work side by side with some of those inventions. She needed to understand how they worked. More importantly, how current models might be built upon. Improved. Perhaps evolved into something altogether more effective and new.
Luckily for her, robots were a happy marriage of engineering and computer scienceβ The degree she always thought she'd pursue before a car accident changed everything.
Despite that unexpected 180 she pulled with career paths, though, she never stopped coding so in that she was solid. But the engineering aspect of it all? Yeah. That was an entirely different beast.
Hence her little shopping trip.
She was elbows deep in a stack of different instructional volumes and industry related magazines when a gentle correction saved her from a guaranteed spiral over so many options. Glancing north, she eyed the man first and then his suggested alternative.
"Yeah?" Equal parts hopeful and intrigued, she carefully took it from his hands. "Are you speaking as a professional, or more as a hobbyist?" Not that it mattered; sheer curiosity was her only excuse for the question.
