#the virus has nothing to do with the isus | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

benthicforam · 5 years ago

Text

Outbreak Impulsivity

22 Maret 2020. Jam 19 kurang. I was on my room, lights off, nothing to do.

As the title suggests, page ini dibuat secara impulsif purely karena kebosanan di hari ke-7 gue self-quarantine due to the coronavirus outbreak. Thus, ‘Outbreak Impulsivity.’ Lebih dari itu, page ini dibuat karena ternyata selama self-quarantine ini gue jadi banyak banget refleksi diri terkait pribadi, karir, pendidikan, interpersonal relations, dan lain sebagainya. Dan gue pengen nulis beberapa dari hasil reflection tersebut di sebuah blog, which hopefully, bisa menjadi memento pribadi hidup gue. This is the first one.

—

I thought I’ve known myself very well already, but self-quarantine really proves me very wrong. Dari kecil setiap gue tes kecerdasan hasil yang paling dominan atau paling tinggi skor nya pasti kecerdasan intrapersonal, which seharusnya menggambarkan betapa aware nya gue terhadap emosi, motivasi, kepercayaan, dan tujuan diri. I really thought I knew myself that well, just to have countless fights inside my head about (ironically) how do I, as a personal, make decisions or basically function in society in the end! Disitu gue sadar oh mungkin memang gue belum se-kenal itu sama diri gue sendiri, terlepas sebelum self-quarantine ini gue selalu menyibukkan diri dengan pekerjaan dan nongkrong-nongkrong atau socializing. Ngantor sampe malem, itupun masih suka dilanjut nongkrong, pulang ke rumah tengah malem lewat langsung tidur, besok pagi kerja lagi and repeat. Weekend basian capek jadi bangun siang, itu juga maksimal 3 jam dari bangun tangan udah gatel ngajakin orang-orang nongkrong atau ya jalan-jalan aja sendiri keluar, dan pulang ke rumah malem lagi. The cycle has been going on, and on, and on… just like that. Ya gak pernah ada ‘me time’ aja gitu.

Semuanya berawal di hari Senin, hari pertama (banget) imbauan WFH (Work from Home) dari kantor. Ceritanya di hari itu gue di-message recruiter sebuah perusahaan start-up, beliau sedang mencari personnel untuk sebuah team di perusahaannya dan beliau tertarik dengan profile gue karena menurut beliau experience dan skillset gue sesuai dengan yang beliau cari. I’m always excited with new opportunities, so I said yes when she asked me to have a phone call. Jujur menarik banget sih, bukan bermaksud bragging atau gimana, gue udah beberapa kali di-message recruiter, headhunter, etc you name it tapi ini pertama kalinya gue betul-betul sampe satu jam interview sama si recruiter ini by phone. Sebelum phone nya selesai, beliau inform gue bahwa ada beberapa online Personality Test yang harus gue lakukan. Actually the deadline was set 2 days from that day, but I decided to finish all the required tests right away karena mood gue juga lagi oke because of that exhilarating interview earlier.

Salah satu dari Personality Test tersebut adalah MBTI Test, yang mana gue sudah sering banget dan se-sering itu retake test nya. Hasil nya juga selalu sama gak pernah berubah, bahkan I think even the percentages of each aspects barely change, which is ENFJ-T. Selalu itu, selalu ENFJ-T gak pernah berubah. Tapi hari itu gue decide untuk test ulang dan voila, hasilnya berubah jadi ESFJ-T. Gue faham kalo MBTI Test itu gak absolut dan menggambarkan kecenderungan kepribadian saat itu, even some doubts its validity, I know and I’m fully aware of it. Cuma yang bikin gue bengong adalah I was REALLY sure none of my answers changed from the last time I took the test! But it turned out my personal energy turned pretty much from ‘Intuitive’ to ‘Observant’, which means (kalau berdasarkan 16personalities.com) I used to rely on imagining the past and future potential of what I see but now I’m more interested in observable facts and more straightforward outcomes.

Gue jadi mikir sebetulnya apa sih akar dari perubahan tersebut? Can I trace back what event resulted in such alteration? Nah… Sebetulnya kalau ditanya secara gamblang pun sampai detik gue ngetik ini gue gak bisa jawab sih. HAHA maaf. Tapi gue ambil 2 case, yang satu terjadi di masa lampau, dan satu case terjadi sekarang dimana rentang waktu nya gak jauh, cuma beda 1 tahun.

The first one is pretty much in 2019. The whole 2019 was a nasty mess for me. 2019 adalah masa-masa gue menghadapi sidang Pemetaan Geologi Lanjutan dan Skripsi (gak cuma skripsi, di jurusan gue ada 2 syarat kelulusan), keliling either itu dari Halim (rumah)-Depok (kampus)-Cipulir (tempat penelitian skripsi), pulang larut malam hampir setiap hari buat ngerjain 2 tugas akhir gue tersebut, 2 sidang, sambil ngulang Kalkulus. Beberapa kali dispute sama dosen pembimbing karena hal-hal kecil yang seharusnya bisa gak perlu terjadi sampe last minute hampir gak diizinin sidang skripsi. Uang saku turun banget karena harus resign dari part-time Starbucks. H-1 sidang proposal one of my exes decided to mess with my feelings sehingga di hari-H gue sidang proposal gue tidur jam 3 pagi karena ngerjain revisian sambil mental breakdown. Pacar (yang sekarang sudah menjadi mantan) yang gak suportif susah diajak ketemu, berantem setiap hari, dan ibaratnya malah shoving away ketika gue butuh moral support. Akhirnya bahkan putus 2 hari sebelum gue sidang skripsi. Bokap nyokap yang malah lebih galak dari biasanya, overworried skripsi gue gak selesai karena dikiranya gue nongkrong terus padahal pulang malem juga karena skripsian bahkan gue pernah bimbingan sama dosen pembimbing pemetaan gue malem-malem di Starbucks. Countless nights nginep di McD buat skripsian dan bukan efek jera procrastinating, but I was really short in time that moment.

Don’t get me wrong, God knows how hard I strove on my 8th semester in college. I worked my ass off. Gak sekali-dua kali kalo di KRL pikiran gue bengong, I felt nothing, everything is okay, trus yaudah tiba-tiba gak ada angin gak ada ujan langsung breakdown aja gitu nangis kejer karena se-capek dan se-sedih itu, dada langsung sakit tiap terlintas pikiran “God, do I really deserve all of this?”

Setelah itu semua, I managed to finish my thesis and geological mapping, berhasil sidang dua-duanya dengan nilai yang buat gue cukup memuaskan. But, ada insiden kecil yang membuat gue gak lulus Kalkulus di semester tersebut dan gue harus kuliah lagi di semester 9. Tahun ke-lima, bayar SPP full, just for a f****ing 2-credit course. 2019 was one hell of a ride.

—

Lalu sekarang, menjelang kuartal ke-dua 2020. Dalam scope yang besar mungkin 2020 so far juga bukan tahun yang baik, dimulai dari banjir hampir di seluruh Jakarta right on the very first day of the year, hampir perang dunia ke-tiga, banjir lagi di Jakarta, dan sekarang corona virus outbreak. Not meaning it to be selfish, but in a personal scale, I root so much for 2020. I finally graduated this year, signed a contract for a permanent job that I love even before graduating, good relations with (almost) all the people around me. My life seems like it is finally getting together. Love life-wise mungkin belum sesuai harapan, but I’m pretty much grateful for whatever comes into my plate right now. My job got tense and pressurizing at times, some my colleagues got unhelpful at times, but I can handle my stressors very much better now. Bahkan gue expect gue gak akan survive self-quarantine ini karena I swear to God gue bahkan gak inget kapan gue diem di rumah selama 24 jam penuh, tapi ternyata I think I’ve been doing fine these past days.

Bahkan gue jadi banyak mengambil silver lining, gue belajar banyak bersyukur bahkan atas kejadian-kejadian yang selama ini mungkin bisa dibilang gue kufur nikmat. Gue bersyukur gue punya pekerjaan amidst this chaos, kantor yang betul-betul put attention terhadap isu Covid-19 sampe punya channel #fightcovid19 di Slack dan jadi salah satu perusahaan pertama yang nerapin WFH, gue bersyukur punya orangtua yang masih mau dengerin himbauan gue terkait Covid-19 dan masih bisa kumpul sama mereka, gue bersyukur gak ngerasa sakit atau punya gejala-gejala Covid-19, gue bersyukur banyak banget kemudahan buat gue akses informasi, gue bersyukur bisa afford catering sehat untuk makan siang gue selama WFH ini, gue punya air yang mengalir dan sabun di rumah, gue gak punya kendala dengan tempat tinggal, dan gue bersyukur gue jadi tersadarkan bahwa thankfully my life is actually not that bad (at least for the moment). Gue bersyukur sudah tersadarkan bahwa ternyata masih banyak yang bisa gue syukuri di hidup gue.

My closest friends and relatives understand how dramatic and shitty my life could really be at its worst, my failures in love, study, and career. But now thankfully I never find myself having mental breakdowns on public transportations anymore. I’m not frustrated by the condition I am in, which is self-quarantine.

—

Jadi sebetulnya setelah ngoceh panjang lebar, what’s the point and what does it have to do with my change from being an ENFJ to an ESFJ? Kalau menurut gue, sepertinya pada masanya I felt really entitled and I felt that life was unrealistically unfair. Gue sebetulnya yakin pasti banyak sebetulnya hal yang bisa gue syukuri di tahun 2019 bahkan mungkin lebih banyak daripada sekarang but I missed it all karena gue terlalu sibuk dengan ekspektasi bahwa I actually deserved better than what I had (reference to my monologue saying “God, do I really deserve this?” constantly). Lalu rasa-rasanya gue terlalu berfokus pada ‘what ifs’ and I got lost in thought many times, which turned out to be very toxic karena in the end yang bisa gue kontrol cuma diri sendiri tapi gue malah ran away with my thoughts and gaslighted myself as if what I’ve done is a coping mechanism. Well, sakit juga ya realita. Dari what ifs what ifs tersebut gue rasa keliatan banget sisi ‘Intuitive’ gue, which is berfokus pada imajinasi dari masa lampau (penyesalan) dan ekspektasi tidak realistis di masa depan.

Sedangkan sekarang sepertinya gue jadi bisa lebih nrimo ing pandum, bisa melihat keadaan sebagai fakta objektif dan menarik kesimpulan yang gak neko-neko. Keadaan lagi kayak tai? Well then be it. I can see myself being much more careless, but in a way I am proud of. I am channeling my energy to the things I can control and only to the things I deem worthy of my time. And what I thought matches a lot with the description of ‘Observant’ trait.

Jujur masih penasaran banget sebetulnya turning point nya dimana, but to finally be able to notice the difference in me already makes me happy. I feel like I am reuniting with myself again. I still got a looong way to discover myself, but at the moment I guess I’m just gonna enjoy funny Tik Tok videos containing Grammy 2020 nominees with that Boss Bitch - Doja Cat soundtrack. Gosh sooo cool. PSA to love yourself more, Ciao!

1 note · View note

zimhope · 3 years ago

Text

SA Sanctioned for Fake covvid in Shona

Vanhu ve South Africa vayifunga kuti vari kugona vachi Siya ma scientists Avo kuti ataure zve fake Covid 19. Now nyika ya sanctionwa ne UK and America. More woes, and more unemployment. Covid 19 is fake and non existent. How can u be sanctioned for non-existent virus? Covvid 19 is fake. Vacccination is fake it has nothing to do with Corona. It’s a poison to change our DNA. Hatiyide isu. Dr…

View On WordPress

0 notes

kerahlekung · 5 years ago

Text

Convid 19 mengikut Tuan Berahim dan Lebai Hadi...

Convid 19 mengikut Tuan Berahim dan Lebai Hadi....

Menteri Alam Sekitar kata Covid-19 ada hikmahnya. Bila wabak ini merebak ke seluruh dunia, semua kereta terhenti (sebab semua orang duduk di rumah). Ini menyebabkan udara dan alam sekitar menjadi bersih. Cisss... mentang-mentang dia menteri alam sekitar, dunia diserang wabak macam ni pun dia duk pikir untuk kepentingan politik dia je, konon prihatin sangatlah dengan kebersihan alam sekitar, phuiii, baru jadi menteri 3 minggu, pejabat pun tak ada lagi. Orang tengah cemas dan berduka, dia boleh sembang bab hikmah dari serangan wabak itu kepada kementerian dia... Bagi Haji Hadi pula mudah je... Apa benda masalah pun, dia mesti kata kena ikut Islam... Nak selesaikan masalah virus covid-19...? Hadi kata ada kaedah penyelesaian cara Islam. Jangan tanya macam mana caranya... Nanti dia jawab apabila penjajah menjajah kita, mereka bukan menjajah tanah air saja, tapi pemikiran umat Islam turut dijajah. Lori ada banyak jenis, ada lori kecik ada lori besar... Ini kita kena sedor kita kena fahang... isyu hudud, itu kena tanya DAP... er, bukan DAP hak ni, ni DAP negeri, kena tanya hok pusat. Ayat 'segala masalah ada cara penyelesaiannya dalam Qur'an', kerana Qur'an itu lengkap samporna, semua perkara ada dalam Qur'an; itu ayat lama sejak tahun 1980an lagi.... Ada sorang ustaz PAS bersyarah atas wakaf dia kabo gitu lah, kebetulan ada situ budak otak tak berapa centre... Bila ustaz kata semua benda ada dalam Qur'an, budak tu tanya : "Ustaz, cara-cara nok wat kheppok lekor ada dok dalam Qur'an..!" Tergagap-gagap ustaz nak jawab.... - Umo Bin Othman

Bukan masalah free tapi ada atau disorok...

Facemask dan Sanitizer ni sebenarnya tak perlu pun Kerajaan bagi percuma..Kita faham..Mungkin Kerajaan hari ini takda kemampuan kewangan.. atau mungkin takda kemampuann berfikir.. Yang penting bekalan itu ada dan harganya tidak melambung.. bukan rakyat tak nak beli, Rakyat pun tak tahu nak beli kat mana..Sebab takda dipasaran.. kalau ada pun org jual online.. harga lebih teruk dari Kapitalis walaupun yang jual tu pak haji.. Aku cadangkan, supaya Kerajaan mengedarkan,atau memasarkan Topeng Muka(facemask) dan Sanitizer melalui premis premis Station Minyak seluruh Negara..Sebab depa sentiasa buka.. Jadikan rangkaian Petronas, Petron, Shell sebagai Hub untuk rakyat dapatkan Facemask dan Sanitizer.. Bila depa isi minyak.. Depa boleh dapatkan facemask dan sanitizer.. Tak perlu bagi percuma..Jual jer di Mart atau Serbaneka di Station2 Minyak..yang penting harga terkawal...cara ini Mudah.. Banyak Premis,farmasi hatta DIY sendiri tutup..dan disuruh tutup.. Selepas itu baru bentuk rakyat untuk jaga kebersihan..jaga jarak sosial(Social distancing)... buat garis panduan dari PBT untuk urus niaga di pasaraya..Mart dan kedai2 Runcit..termasuk pasar pagi.. Yang susah fikir sampai nak kurung rakyat sampai nak guna tentera tu apehal.. Sampai disuruh tutup semua premis dan Kedai pukul 7 malam.. - Ipohmali

Jangan salahkan jemaah tabligh hanya kerana beberapa golongan yang jahil dan jumud...

Amat mendukacitakan nama jemaah Tabligh disebut-sebut sebagai salah satu punca merebak wabak COVID-19. Benar, salah satu punca merebaknya wabak ini adalah kerana "kluster" mereka yang berdegil dan tidak mematuhi arahan keselamatan yang diberikan. Difahamkan telah ramai di antara mereka telah pun hadir melapor diri untuk membuat pemeriksaan. Malangnya, masih ramai juga di kalangan pendakwah ini berdegil atau jumud di dalam pemikiran mereka tentang wabak yang tidak pernah mereka dengar sebelum ini. Ada di antara mereka berdegil hingga ke tahap dipaksa oleh pihak berkuasa untuk menjalani pemeriksaan. Ada yang menggunakan hujah agama untuk mengelakkan diri masing-masing dari mematuhi arahan yang dikeluarkan oleh pihak berkuasa. "Allah berkuasa, hidup mati kita di tangan Allah, mengapa perlu takut kepada wabak ini lebih dari takut kepada Allah? Mengapa kita mesti jauhi Rumah Allah untuk solat berjemaah hanya kerana takut wabak ini?". Itu di antara hujah2 yang biasa kita dengar dari golongan jumud dan jahil ini.

Tidakkah mereka tahu Allah juga mewajibkan kita menjaga keselamatan diri dan keluarga kita dari wabak? Bukan soal kita takut wabak itu lebih dari takut kepada Allah, tetapi kita wajib jauhi wabak itu kerana itu juga perintah Allah. Setiap penyakit itu juga datang dari Allah dan penawarnya juga datang dari Allah serta keizinannya. Maksudnya, wabak itu tidak akan terjadi tanpa izin Allah. Allah menurunkan wabak atau penyakit itu bersebab agar manusia berfikir. Allah juga sediakan penawar setiap penyakit kecuali mati. Cuma, kita saja yang perlu berusaha dan bertawakkal untuk mencari penawarnya. Haram bagi kita mendedahkan diri kita, apatah lagi keluarga kita dari penyakit. Tidak cukup hanya kita berdoa kepada Allah untuk lindungi diri dan keluarga kita dari penyakit atau bala bencana sedangkan kita tidak mahu lari darinya. Itu bukan ajaran Islam. Setelah kita berusaha menghindari wabak ini dengan mematuhi arahan dari pihak berkuasa, barulah boleh kita serahkan diri kita kepada Allah dan memohon perlindungan dariNya. Saya menasihatkan saudara2 jemaah Tabligh agar melihat kepentingan masyarakat Islam dan insan sekeliling lebih utama dari kepentingan jemaah mereka. Buat masyarakat di luar sana, elakkan diri dari mengutuk atau mengecam jemaah Tabligh ini hanya kerana beberapa golongan dari mereka yang mungkin jahil terhadap isu yang melanda sekarang.- Wfauzdin Ns

An Islamic reminder to my Tabligh

brothers in Indonesia and the world...

It is with a heavy heart that I write this message to the Tabligh group. I am pleading that they cancel or postpone all gatherings in order for us to deal effectively with the number one enemy of man presently in the world; the COVID-19 virus. I was once part of the Tabligh group in my student days in the USA and had even attended the Detroit Ijtimak or Gathering of 20,000 brothers from around the world in 1985. I remember we slept on corrugated cardboards in a huge warehouse huddled with each other to warm ourselves from the harsh minus 5 degree weather then. We ate from one 'talam' or tray with our fingers and drank from a single cup of tea. We were Islamic Brothers. Our saliva and blood must flow in unison to seal the faith at all time and in all places. We wept together in the night, prayed in congregation and relished in listening to the heart rending Bayan or speeches by the senior Brothers. Some of us were grocers, labourers and some were architects, doctors, lawyers and also former ambassadors seeking peace and enlightenment through a sacrifice of time, money and effort to rejuvenate Islam among the Muslims who had strayed by a non-political partisan approach of 'Gash' or visits to houses and sleeping at mosques. I learned to perform 'khidmat' by cooking, making drinks, serving food and eating at one time nothing but white rice with margarine. It was delicious. Plain white rice with plain water. Eating with your brothers of faith. Praying, joking making friends for life and weeping for our souls. The Tabligh approach does not recognize Mercedes loving politicians or title loving muftis. It is a simple act of faith where a labourer can be a pious leader over mere lawyers, architects or doctors. My lecturer friends who were committed would frequently 'go out' for 40 days on the road travelling, cooking, praying, lecturing, visiting and inviting others to join. Tabligh was a beautiful way of life to be an innocent Muslim unhindered by the constructs of wealth, false dignity and fake piety of notaries and 'educated' clerics. At any one time more than a thousand strong would be at the Sri Petaling Mosque that has become famous as the new epicenter for the COVID-19 outbreak.

When asked to cancel, the organisers quote words of the Qur'an and the Prophet Muhammad in trusting Allah and accepting His will over life and death. This is the license quoted not only by the organisers but by the visitors themselves. Both are wrong and I will personally bear witness against these organisers and visitors and hold them accountable to Allah in the Hereafter.

Allah clearly says in the Qur'an that God will not change the fate of a people unless they change themselves. The Prophet has always advised people to tie their camels and then leave things to faith. In Islam faith is the LAST weapon after human ingenuity, resourcefulness and spirit handle any and all situations. To place faith blindly before actions and planning that can be humanly taken is sheer nonsense and in complete violation of the spirit of Islam. A Malay Ustaz disagreed with the closing of the mosque for congregational prayers and activities citing that Allah and prayers will protect the worshippers.

For my money, if the Tabligh visitors and mosque congregation wants to die from Corvid-19 and 'fly to heaven', they are most welcomed! What I do not want happen is that these 'ignorant warriors of Islam' are willing to expose themselves to the infections and in turn infect their wives, children, fathers and mothers and worse other people's children, parents, daughters and sons. You nak mati you punya pasal-lah! Jangan akibatkan orang lain mati! On the 16th of March last Sunday, my world came crashing down. I received a text message from my friend Jerald who had chaired my panel on Crisis on Education on the 3rd of March that he had tested positive for the COVID-19. It was the longest four days before I paid RM600 to be tested and the result came back negative. For that long four days, the thought of dying was not the worse part because at 58 years old, I had lived a full life. The worse part was the thought that I might have infected my five children and my three precious grandchildren that I had interacted with after the 3rd of March. The thought of infecting my wife of 37 years of marriage who has a sinus and asthma problem almost made me cry at night.

Before 16th of March the COVID-19 issue was not a priority in my life. They were just numbers and seem far away from me. I had planned to cancel all my 7 talks and public appearance and that was going to be my last event. As fate would have it, that event was almost not only my death sentence but the fate of my children, grandchildren, wife, sister, brother and my students and co-workers. I had only shook the moderator's hand and held the microphone. That was all. And it could have been a tragic thing. I did not know nor expected as the warning of a national crisis was not forthcoming. What was coming was the backdoor government initiated by traitor MPs to the rakyat. That traitorous deed was more fearful than the virus. But all of that petty politicking now pales in the light of a new lockdown order. As Allah is my witness, the Tabligh event in Malaysia has now become the epicenter of the outbrake. The Tabligh organizer gave the excuse that there was no government decree. They trusted religious faith than scientific facts. Now, the Indonesian Ijtimak is going to make the same mistake. I accuse the organisers of pure vanity, stubbornness and stupidity in resisting the request to cancel or postpone. Mecca has suspended the Umrah and possibly the Hajj in the future. What else can the organisers base their ludicrous decision on to continue? Finally, in the hereafter when Allah calls these organisers of Tabligh why they continued with the Ijtimak against the plea to cancel, they will answer that it was their faith and love of Allah that made them continue knowing that Allah loves those who glorify Him. I would love to be there when Allah might say that their deed was for vanity of being leaders of a religious movement and for economic benefits and their sins of causing harm to others Muslims or non-Muslims will earn them the fires of Hell. - Professor Dr. Mohd Tajuddin Mohd Rasdi

Someone In Muhyiddin Government Is

Making RM18 Million “Every Month”...

As early as January, before Muhyiddin Yassin launched his “Sheraton coup” to topple his own government in order to form Perikatan Nasional backdoor government with corrupt regime UMNO and extreme Islamist party PAS, the then-Pakatan Harapan government had categorized face masks as price control items following the outbreak of the Coronavirus (which was still known as 2019-nCoV). Essentially, 2-layer medical or surgical mask was fixed at RM0.20 each while the retail price for 3-layer of the same mask was selling at RM0.80 each. Traders or retailers found to have breached the Price Control and Anti-Profiteering Act 2011 would face fines up to RM100,000 or maximum 3-years’ jail, or both, or pay a compound of RM50,000. But not many lucky souls managed to get their hands on the precious commodity. Thanks to panic buying of face masks, and even hand sanitisers, people continued with their normal life without the first defence. Get real, washing hands with soap is only sufficient if you stay at home. Once you go out, you’re taking a risk without a mask simply because you constantly breathe. Now, after the total number of confirmed Covid-19 cases breached the 1,000 mark to 1,030 with an additional 130 cases, not to mention a third death, the backdoor government of Muhyiddin Yassin has finally banned the exports of face masks effective March 18. It was quite amazing that the government took weeks before decided to take care of fellow Malaysians. On March 6, the Domestic Trade and Consumer Affairs Ministry said the Muhyiddin government “may impose” a temporary ban on the export of face masks to meet local demand. Nothing happened. A week later on March 14, the same ministry said in the event of a serious shortage of face masks, the government “will consider” a face mask export ban. Still, nothing happened. So, the genius in the Domestic Trade and Consumer Affairs Ministry had taken 2 weeks just to think and consider whether an export ban was a good idea, despite the number of Coronavirus cases kept hitting the roof – from 2-digit to 3-digit. Today, Malaysia has the fourth-highest number of Covid-19 infections in Asia – just behind South Korea (8,652), Iran (18,407) and China (80,967). Perhaps the incompetent backdoor government wanted to wait to ensure enough people have died before seriously taking a simple action like securing face masks for the people. But even when the clueless ministry finally announced the export ban, the price of the 3-layer or three-ply face mask will now cost RM2 instead of RM0.80 a pop – a whopping 150% increase. Domestic Trade and Consumer Affairs Minister Alexander Nanta Linggi claimed that the price of face masks needed to be increased due to higher cost of production materials. He said – “By allowing face masks to be sold at RM2, we hope to encourage local manufacturers to produce more.” He must have forgotten that the Pakatan Harapan had been the government prior.

The Pakatan Harapan coalition, which had since collapsed, exposed that apparently prior to the coup, the previous government had had discussions with local manufacturers to boost the stocks to ensure sufficient supply of masks within the country. In fact, it was revealed that the then-Pakatan Harapan government was prepared to purchase the face mask at RM0.60 a pop. Now in the opposition, the Pakatan Harapan presidential council has claimed that the mask manufacturers “did not” demand for any price increase during discussions with the previous Domestic Trade and Consumer Affairs Ministry. The manufacturers only asked for help with problems of insufficient workers, additional operation shifts, tax breaks and obtaining raw materials. And those discussions took place before China managed to solve the Coronavirus plaguing the country. Now that the Chinese has won the war against the pathogen, getting the raw materials should not be an issue anymore. In fact, China has excessive products that it has donated 100,000 face masks to Malaysia, scheduled to arrive through an AirAsia flight on Friday (March 20). Heck, China is flush with tons of masks that Alibaba billionaire Jack Ma has donated 1-million masks and 500,000 Coronavirus test kits to the United States, which is scheduled to arrive in the U.S. on Monday morning. In addition, the wealthiest man in China will also send 2-million masks, 150,000 test kits, 20,000 protective suits and 20,000 face shields to Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand and the Philippines. With Muhyiddin now works hand-in-glove with the corrupt UMNO, will the past hanky-panky practice emerge once again where the hundreds of thousands of donated masks somehow disappear only to appear on the shelves of some retailers, making someone within the government very rich and laugh all the way to the bank? But that was not the main juice. The juiciest part is this – if it was true that the local mask manufacturers could not produce 3-layer masks at RM0.60 a piece, which is not true based on Pakatan Harapan’s revelation, why can’t the government allow imports of the masks without raising the market price to RM2? Yes, some government cronies will be making 150% profit out of every face mask at the expense of the ordinary folks.

Alexander Nanta Linggi - Domestic Trade and Consumer Affairs Minister

It was pretty simple to fix the shortage of face masks, if indeed Muhyiddin regime was sincere in helping the people. First, ban all exports of face masks under the pretext of national security. Second, the government will purchase all the masks manufactured locally at RM0.60 a piece as per discussed with the previous government. Third, allow imports of face masks to ensure sufficient supply and low price. After all, it was only in February (before Muhyiddin’s coup to create the present backdoor government) that the previous Pakatan Harapan government officially announced that the shortage of 3-layer masks would be resolved once local manufacturers start to increase production with an extra 400,000 pieces daily – suggesting that it was still profitable even selling at RM0.60. Hence, how could it be possible that the cost of production materials suddenly increases by a jaw-dropping 150% between February and March, at a time when China (the country has zero new cases domestically for a second consecutive day, mind you) has recovered from the plague and has so many extra masks to give away? The answer is quite obvious. Domestic Trade and Consumer Affairs Ministry admitted back in March 6 that thanks to the outbreak, the demand for 3-layer masks has skyrocketed to 15-million pieces every month. If the government were to buy at RM0.60 (as per earlier discussion between Pakatan Harapan and manufacturers) and resell at RM0.80 a pop, the profit will be only RM1.5 million based on 50:50 profit sharing with retailers. Of course, if the previous government decided not to make any profit, the retailers will enjoy the entire RM3 million profits based on RM0.20 profit margin. However, now that Muhyiddin government decided to raise the market price to RM2 per piece, suddenly the profit will be RM18 million – every month. Even if retailers are allowed to make RM0.20 a pop, the government cronies will walk away with RM15 million. Now, do you understand why the ministry announced that besides an increase of price from RM0.80 to RM2 for a piece of face mask, the government has also decided to allow imports of the masks? By doing so, the actual price could be even lower than RM0.60 due to competition. An additional RM0.10 of lower cost will translate to a cool extra RM1.5 million easy money without lifting a finger – every month. Indeed, it’s not an exaggeration to suggest that Muhyiddin’s backdoor government is a bloodsucking regime who would not blink twice at profiting from the people even in times of Coronavirus pandemic. To prove its innocence, the government must therefore debunk the revelation that the manufacturers had agreed to sell face mask at RM0.60 a piece to the Pakatan Harapan government. - FT

Story kat sini...

youtube

cheers.

Sumber asal: Convid 19 mengikut Tuan Berahim dan Lebai Hadi... Baca selebihnya di Convid 19 mengikut Tuan Berahim dan Lebai Hadi...

#Blogger

0 notes

viewwrangler · 5 years ago

Text

And another sporting event may be on the ropes, and that’s ... figure skating? figure skating.

World figure skating championships in Montreal face cancellation over virus concerns (cbc.ca)

Quebec Health Minister Danielle McCann says the government is evaluating whether to allow the world figure skating championships to go ahead next week in Montreal.

Her comments Monday come after the International Ice Hockey Federation on Saturday cancelled the women's world hockey championship scheduled to take place in Nova Scotia from March 31 to April 10 because of the spread of the novel coronavirus. Hockey Canada said Nova Scotia health officials recommended the event not be held at the scheduled time in a letter to the sport's governing body.

McCann said provincial public health and public security officials are involved in the analysis of the March 16-22 figure skating event, with input from the Public Health Agency of Canada. She says cancelling the competition has not been ruled out, and a decision will be made as quickly as possible. "We have to do a case-by-case analysis of the events, but we are aware that we need to make a decision rapidly concerning the (figure skating event) ... What I want to say is a decision needs to be taken as quickly as possible," McCann said....

Worth noting: the decision will be made by Quebec and Canadian public health agencies, and -- so far, at least -- not the International Skating Union.

The International Skating Union has, in fact, made any number of dubious decisions regarding the competition. Or, rather, not so much the competition as what comes after. It used to be a skating exhibition gala, and now it’s this weird awards/gala/concert thing. The arena will be made much smaller by the stage for the awards and concert portion, and will have considerably more obstructed view seats (as in, they’ll be behind a stage). People who were in the obstructed view area had their tickets canceled, instead of allowing them to purchase others -- this was, in part, due to the shockingly late notice, or lack thereof, about these changes. The skating area will be something like a third the size of the competition skating surface, which will make things much more difficult for the skaters. There will be a “red carpet gala” event instead of the straight exhibition, including red carpet entrances, for which almost no skater will have the money or clothing to deal with at all, never mind at desperately short notice when they’re focused on preparing for competition. They’re also requesting that ticket holders dress for a red carpet gala, to which the general considered response seems to have been mostly, “Uh ... no. No, we don’t think so. We’d thank you for asking, as it’s only polite, but we kind of think you’re all dicks for doing all this. So ... no.”

And all of this gala mishegoss will cram people closer together, at a point in time when public health authorities everywhere are strongly advocating public distancing. Regarding coronavirus itself, the attitude of the ISU has appeared to be one of, “LALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU I HAVE MY FINGERS IN MY EARS YOU AREN’T SAYING ANYTHING I WANT TO HEAR GO AWAY GO AWAY!” Or something like that. That said, they did cancel the short track speed skating world championships; not so much because they thought it was a good idea, or in consultation with the public health authorities or anything like that ... but because Seoul closed the rink and banned all such public gatherings for the then-foreseeable future (Yonhap News Agency). There was nowhere for the event to be held at that short notice, so it was canceled/postponed to the end of the year, somewhere, somehow.

It would not be surprising, if Quebec and Canada allow the event to move forward, for them to dictate that it’s a spectator-free event, done for television only. That said, doing so doesn’t answer the issue of, as mentioned previously, athletes who may have been exposed bringing the disease with them, mingling, taking some other strain of the disease back with them. (The Israeli skaters, at least, and probably several others, will face immediate quarantine when they return home, because that’s what Israel is now trying to do to everyone coming in from abroad, citizen or otherwise. China is also doing more or less the same thing, and it wouldn’t be surprising for other countries to follow suit. Even Florida is requiring that people coming from Italy, South Korea, China or Iran self-quarantine for at least 14 days (miamiherald.com).

(Side note: regarding the previous entry on the Indian Wells BNP Paribas Open, Florida’s quarantine would mean that the Miami Open -- next up on the men’s and women’s tour -- would have issues with at least two people on the men’s side, Matteo Berrettini and Fabio Fognini of Italy, both of whom are in or near the top 10 in rankings, and who would have to be in quarantine so long that they would miss the tournament. On the women’s side, there are three Chinese women -- Sasai Zheng, Shuai Zhang, and Qing Wang -- who would be affected.)

It really does seem likely that either it will be all or nothing -- either everything is fine, just be careful, wash hands and everything else as often as possible, OR outright cancellation. It does seem clear that it will need to be dictated by the public health authorities, as the ISU seems unlikely to do so on its own.

We shall see what we shall see, I guess.

#sports #figure skating #coronavirus

0 notes

battleofthebits · 8 years ago

Text

Won’t You Get Me Bodied

Check, Please! and Yuri!!! on Ice crossover fic. 4.2 K, minor Jack/Bitty and Victor/Yuuri. I promise there’s YoI characters despite the opening scene being 100% Check Please. Read it on Ao3 here.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh, my god.”

Jack stopped in the doorway and went through his mental tally of Reasons Bittle Is Having A Minor Breakdown. Bitty was hunched over his laptop, staring at it with awed disbelief, but — as Jack checked every month — there were no upcoming concerts or awards shows of the kind that usually merited this sort of a response. Bitty used his phone for email, so he couldn’t have gotten an offer to collab with anyone, and nobody had molested any of his pies recently.

That left only one tactic: direct questioning. “Is something wrong, Bits?” Jack asked, fully aware that if something important was going on, he would trigger another meltdown like the fiasco back in 2013.

“Wrong? Are you crazy?” Bittle said, catapulting up from the bed and shoving his laptop in Jack’s face.

The laptop, as far as Jack could tell, was showing nothing more important than some bird-boned ice dancers. “Uh?” Jack managed.

“Jack, Four Continents is in Boston this year!” Bitty said, in the exact same tone that he used when Beyonce did… well, anything… and the Great Phelps-Bittle Jam Feud was settled in Suzanne’s favor. Jack might have no idea what Four Continents was, or why it was so important to Bittle, but by God, he was going to learn.

“Sounds like it’s pretty important to you,” Jack said. Active listening; Lardo would be proud.

“It is, yeah. Do you know anybody who could get us tickets? I don’t wanna ask for much, but it used to be my dream to compete there, and it’s so close…”

“Yeah, definitely,” Jack said. “One of Dad’s friends’ wives is pretty pally with the ISU, and she should be able to hook us up.”

“And this friend’s wife wouldn’t happen to be an international figure skating champ you’ve never told me you know, would she?”

“A figure skating champion who can get you the tickets you want, Bits,” Jack said. “Maybe even rinkside.”

@omgcheckplease

OH MY GOD

8:23 PM · Jan 14, 2016

@omgcheckplease

SWEET MOTHER MARY FOUR CONTINENTS IS RIGHT NEXT DOOR

8:24 PM · Jan 14, 2016

@omgcheckplease

AND GUESS WHOSE AMAZING BOYFRIEND HAS TIX

8:47 PM · Jan 14, 2016

@omgcheckplease

I know, I have a French exam that Monday but WHATEVER I can do my homework in the Uber

8:47 PM · Jan 14, 2016

@omgcheckplease

And congrats to @leodelhielo on making it in! Us Southern boys gotta stick together!

8:49 PM · Jan 14, 2016

Leo made a habit of keeping up with his old competitors. Some people just faded out of the sport and didn’t do anything of note, but others went to college or pursued interesting careers. He figured it was a good way to get a look at his options post-figure skating, and besides, some of those guys had been cool. It was nice to keep in touch, or at least stalk their social media. He hadn’t been expecting a nostalgia follow to @ him, though.

He remembered following this account. He’d been Googling a list of boys who’d made it to regionals, and found not only a college and major but a Twitter, attached to one Eric Bittle. Leo dimly remembered him: won Southern Junior Regionals 2010, peppy as anything. The guy had brought tiny pies to the party afterwards, pissed off at least three skaters’ nutritionists, and then vanished from the sport despite what every announcer had said was astounding potential. And had apparently ended up in Boston, attached to a hockey team.

It couldn’t hurt to acknowledge an old acquaintance, and Leo didn’t have anybody managing his social media anyway. He dashed off a quick tweet.

@leodelhielo

@omgcheckplease thanks! we should totally catch up sometime.

9:17 PM · Jan 14, 2016

@omgcheckplease

Sweet! @leodelhielo I was actually planning a party that weekend, so…

9:21 PM · Jan 14, 2016

Jack heard a piercing screech from the kitchen and ran in to check that Bitty hadn’t gotten hurt and another surprise album hadn’t dropped. “What’s going on, bud?”

“Leo de la Iglesia just @-ed me. Leo de la Iglesia is in my DMs. Leo de la Iglesia thinks it would be totally swawesome to come to the Haus after Four Continents and bring his skater friends.” Bitty looked up from his phone with reverence in his eyes. “Jack. He used the word ‘swawesome.’”

“Sounds cool,” Jack offered.

“It is so not cool, Mister Zimmermann. I have to make plans! I have to figure out who all is coming, email their nutritionists so I can set up an appropriate menu, do a deep-clean of the Haus — what if one of them gets a virus from the couch? — and let the boys know to give them their privacy. There’s so much work to do, oh my god.”

“And you’ll love every minute of it.”

Agreeing to bring Leo’s friends to a college town forty minutes from the rink right after Four Continents was far more difficult than firing off a promise to do so. Seung-Gil hated loud noises, alcohol, and fun, so he was right out. Guang-hong might be down, but would be just about impossible to sneak into a frat party when he looked twelve on a good day. Otabek… was Otabek. Leo was planning on asking JJ, because Leo was a nice person, dammit, but that invite might make the night sound more boring than JJ would ever stand for. Phichit would be much easier to lure in with the promise of a genuine American frat party. And if Leo played his cards right, and was very, very lucky, through persuading Phichit he might get to Yuuri.

Leo had seen rather too much of Yuuri with drunks, but he’d never actually seen Yuuri get hammered, and there were all kinds of rumors. Yuuri had reportedly barely touched the champagne at the GPF banquet this year, claiming he wanted to actually remember this night, thanks, which as far as Leo was concerned might as well be an invitation to get him blackout drunk. All he had to do was handle the situation with care.

hey, you doing anything after Four Continents?

Phichit

not yet

you got any ideas?

yeah, this guy I know from juniors lives in a frat house and makes amazing pie

he invited us all to dinner and a frat party

You in?

Phichit

you bet ur ass I am

sweet, can you bring yuuri with you?

Phichit

uhhhhh

maybe

think about it

this is a chance to get him totally wasted

see if the rumors are true

*and* get photographic evidence

all for the cost of an Uber to Samwell

Phichit

well when you put it like that

I’ll see what I can do

Yuuri had no idea why he was here. Getting his first real gold of the year had felt pretty nice, but after the win all he’d wanted to do was cuddle with his fiancé. Instead, Hurricane Phichit had burst into his room, said only, “Yuuri! We’re headed out in ten minutes! Grab your best party outfit!” and dragged him into an Uber while Victor was distracted by a crowd of fans. Apparently there was some kind of party, somewhere, and Phichit’s radar for a good, Yuuri-embarrassing time was just as strong as it had been in Detroit.

“Don’t you have a leg injury?” Yuuri asked.

“A of all, this sprain has been healing for a week; second of B, I just won bronze with it; and thirdly, you don’t need your legs when you’re doing a kegstand,” Phichit grinned.

Yuuri was doomed.

The house was… well. Yuuri would have liked to say it was nice enough, but that would have been a lie against God and architecture. It looked, frankly, like a crack den. With very spiffy curtains. “You’re sure this is the place?”

“Yeah, number 151.” Phichit carefully did not hobble up to the door.

A tall guy with a bemused look on his face was sitting on a chair on the roof above the porch. “Bitty!” he yelled into the house. “There’s more short guys showing up! Did you invite a gymnastics team over?”

A blond a little taller than Phichit opened the door in oven mitts. “Hi there,” he said, “ignore Tango, he’s, uh, special. Everyone else is ready to eat, unless JJ shows up out of the blue, and I’ve been instructed not to tweet about this party until Uber rush pricing starts, so that’s not very likely.”

“Uh, thanks?” Yuuri said.

“No problem! We’ve had some problems in the past with big personalities ruining the ambience, and I wouldn’t want that to happen tonight. Now, I’ve stuck to healthier food than I normally would, so you don’t have to worry too much about portion control. After dinner, we’re going to be pre-gaming and setting up for about an hour, and then the full-on kegster starts. No judgement if either of you want to leave before then. Any questions?”

“You’re Eric, right?” Phichit asked. “The guy Leo knew from Juniors?”

“Oh, where are my manners?” said Eric. “Yeah, that’s my name, but you can call me Bitty; everyone does around here. Pleased to meet you two!”

Bitty led them inside to a veritable buffet line and half of the men’s singles competitors, along with a decent number of jocks and, inexplicably, a tiny Southeast Asian girl. He introduced Phichit and Yuuri to his teammates, but the names were indistinguishable: everyone was called something random like Birker or Dexy.

“I know,” said a tall Black guy with killer cheekbones, “we’ve all got weird nicknames. It’s all a long and storied hockey tradition, like weird pre-game superstitions or everyone hating the Flyers.” And then he and a loud, blond, giant white guy launched a full-on Powerpoint presentation about the history of hockey names and how to make your own.

“So my hockey name would be what, Chiter?” Phichit asked, when he thought he had the hang of it.

Some dude with a mustache stared into his soul for a second and said,“Bruh, no. Cheetah.”

“Yeah, figure skaters are speedy little fuckers, right?” Loud Guy said around a mouthful of chicken breast. “Bitty beats everyone in suicides. Now, the rest of you guys gotta make your own nicknames, Shitty’s genius won’t stick around. Do your names sound like anything cool in your own language? Animals or weapons or something?”

“Oh my god,” Phichit said. “Yuuri. Katsudon. Plisetsky was right about you all along!” Yuuri was flailing and making the usual panicky noises that indicated Phichit was onto something.

“That’s not really—” Yuuri started to say, but Phichit interrupted him.

“Katsudon and Cheetah,” he mused. “Cheetah and Katsudon.” It was only natural at that point to force Yuuri into a selfie, captioned, “Me and katsukiyuuri at an #Epikegster pregame! #cheetah #katsudon #nameamoreepicduo #illwait #hockeynicknames #makeyourown!”

After the last bite of souffle had been eaten — “don’t worry,” Eric had said, “they’re actually pretty low in sugar and you get a ton of protein!” ― and the dishes had been heaped in the sink to ignore, the older jocks and the tiny girl went out to grab beer and… well, nobody was sure what Tiny Girl was up to, but it had something to do with pregaming.

“Okay,” Loud Guy said, after Tiny Girl returned with a projector from somewhere and the skaters had been assembled on a revoltingly filthy green couch. “In honor of Cheetah, here, who says he’s seen every figure skating movie ever made but never fucking got to Blades of Glory—”

“Like you’ve ever seen Shall We Skate?” Phichit fired back.

“Dude,” said Cheekbones, “that movie’s in Thai and Holtzy can barely manage English.”

“What, and subtitles aren’t a thing in America?”

“We are doing a very special pregame today,” Mustache said, barrelling over the incipient movie argument. “The Blades of Glory drinking game: drink every time Chazz and Jimmy get in a fight, every time Chazz mentions his sex addiction, and every time figure skating just doesn’t work like that. Two drinks for every outdated cringey gay joke, and finish your drink every time the parents’ death gets mentioned. If we notice any slow-sipping, you’ll have to finish your drink on the spot. Ready?”

“How many lines am I gonna be able to quote out of context and embarrass Yuuri?” Phichit asked.

“He’s skating with another dude in exhibitions, right? Started in Detroit?” Loud Guy said.

“Yup.”

“Oh, around half the movie.”

And Loud Guy was right. Phichit ended up elbowing Yuuri when the announcers talked about Chazz’ upbringing in Detroit’s sewer skating scene, groaning at the hideous excuses for choreography, and whispering, “Look, it’s you and Yurio! He’s even got the haircut!” every time Jimmy and Chazz laid into each other. By the time the Iron Lotus subplot came up, he was buzzed enough to genuinely consider the physics of a bullshit movie-magic pairs skating move.

“I don’t think they would actually have been able to cut her head off,” Phichit said to nobody in particular. “Cut her throat, yeah, but there’s not enough momentum to cut through the spine. What do you think, Yuuri?” he asked, and turned to his friend, who was looking a little green.

“I think I’m gonna help the jocks set up,” Yuuri said, and fled the room.

Different strokes for different folks, Phichit figured, and took another drink— Chazz and Jimmy were fighting again.

It didn’t take long after that for the kegster to start in earnest. Students filed into the house, Loud Guy and Cheekbones brought in a keg, and before Phichit knew it, D.R.A.M. was blaring at full volume. But as Phichit got his ass kicked at flip cup, he couldn’t help but wonder where Yuuri had gone off to.

It wasn’t that Yuuri was having a bad night. Everyone was incredibly friendly and it barely mattered that he couldn’t socialize when the entire point of the night was getting hammered in creative ways. He didn’t so much greet people as slide between different drinking games. But an hour or so later and five drinks in, he was beginning to question the contents of whatever “tub juice” was.

He shambled towards the kitchen — which was blocked off with CAUTION tape and a sign reading “absolutely NO puking on appliances- ERB” — and found that somebody else had had the same idea. Somebody else looked a little like a much taller and ripped JJ, and was sitting at the table contemplating a can of root beer. Yuuri took a sip of the tub juice and tried to look as if he were neither drunk off his ass nor interested in conversation.

A few moments passed in mutually-appreciated silence.

“It’s a lot sometimes, isn’t it?” Root Beer Guy said, finally. “All the people and the socializing, and the compulsory drinking.”

“It’s not like I mind all that much,” Yuuri said. “The drinking helps with the people.”

“You’re one of the figure skaters Bittle invited, right? Katsuki?”

“The captains told me I’m supposed to call myself Katsudon now, but yeah.”

“They would. Well, I heard from Bittle that one of the reasons your friends wanted you to come tonight is to get you black-out wasted. Apparently they want to take pictures, maybe put a video on Youtube. You weren’t in on this, I’m guessing?”

“Oh God no.”

Root Beer Guy sighed. “That’s what I thought. Well, Shits is always going on about how the Haus is supposed to be a safer space, and we have to be part of consent culture and everything. I guess part of that is not forcing booze down people’s throats. Anyone tries to get you to drink when you aren’t feeling it, I’ll be here with my root beer.”

“Thanks, I guess? But I’m pretty awful at interacting without getting drunk.”

“Fair. One thing, though. You might wanna lay off the tub juice, that stuff’s basically Hi-C and Everclear.”

Yuuri squinted at his cup’s contents. “Really? I’m on my third cup and it doesn’t seem like it’s doing anything.”

“If tub juice doesn’t get you drunk, nothing will,” said Root Beer Guy. “Just keep it in mind, eh? I’d be a shitty ex-captain if I let guests get forced into situations they weren’t comfortable with.”

“I guess I will,” Yuuri said, and made his way out of the room. If tub juice wasn’t working for him, maybe beer would.

Phichit was having the time of his life. The music was pounding, his friends were dancing, and two gorgeous hockey players were helping him out of a kegstand. “Alright,” said Cheekbones, “pong table’s open! You got a partner?”

“Sure,” Phichit said. “Anybody know where Yuuri is?”

“Cute Japanese kid? Just came out of the kitchen with Jack,” Tiny Girl said from the table. “You sure you want to go with him? He looks pretty sloshed.”

“Dude, Yuuri is the best pong partner. He’s, like, a Hoover for booze and he never loses his coordination. He’s a freak of nature or something.”

“Your funeral,” said Tiny Girl. “Now, Haus rules are as follows. No smacking the ball away if it bounces, blowing and fingering are forbidden, and shots before the last cup are mandatory. Got it?”

“Yeah, but are we playing singles or doubles?” Phichit asked.

“Two of you, one of me,” Tiny Girl grinned. “If I can handle Kent Parson and half the Falconers, I can take a couple figure skaters.”

Yuuri wandered over, finished his cup of tub juice, and the game began. In short order, Tiny Girl had changed her tune.

“Aight, that’s a bounce off the ceiling, you drink four cups,” she said, and then, “The fuck, Katsuki? You’re allowed to alternate those, you’ve already been drinking half of Cheetah’s.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Yuuri said, and chugged all of them. “Phichit’s got the alcohol tolerance of one of his hamsters, we’ve been playing pong like this for years. We end up equally wasted, so it’s not like I’m cheating.”

The game went on like that for a while, Yuuri and Tiny Girl landing all their shots, to the point where Phichit ducked out in favor of filming the legend unfolding in front of him. Finally, Tiny Girl and Yuuri had one cup left each. It was Yuuri’s turn. Somehow he managed to down the shot and bounce the ball into Tiny Girl's cup at the very edge of the table, and the room exploded.

“Holy shit!” Loud Guy said, “somebody just fucking beat Lardo at pong.”

“Barely,” Yuuri said, somehow managing to be self-defeating and plastered at the same time.

"Are you kidding me?" Mustache chipped in. "I never thought I'd see the goddamn day."

“His aim gets better when he gets drunker,” Phichit said. “I tried to warn you.”

“I’m still the undisputed Haus flip-cup champ,” said Tiny Girl.

“Really? Let’s see about that,” Yuuri said. Drunk Yuuri was finally coming out of his modest megane shell, and Phichit was going to be around to film every second.

“Hey,” Guang-hong asked Phichit around 1 AM, “has anybody seen Leo around?”

“I lost track of him after they started playing “Vivir Mi Vida” and he freaked out,” Phichit said. “How come?”

“Eric’s totally wasted and we need a translator.”

Phichit thought for a second. “From English? We’re using English right now.”

“No,” Guang-hong said, “from Southerner. He’s slurring all his words and allergic to consonants and the last phrase I heard from him was ‘Y’all boutta git sum.’ Leo’s from Houston, he knows that accent.”

“She like music, she from Houuu-ston, like Auntie Yonce,” a familiar voice warbled from Phichit’s seven. He reached out and grabbed Leo from the mass of partiers around them.

“Leo,” Guang-hong said with a valiant attempt at sobriety, “we need you to translate what Bitty’s saying. He’s getting up in Yuuri’s face and I just heard him saying everyone was gonna get something.”

“We don’t need to worry about a fight, Yuuri’s not a fighty drunk,” Phichit added, “but he might cry all over the host and that would just be embarrassing for everyone.”

Leo squinted at Phichit as if his eyes weren’t quite focusing right. “Wouldn’t you want that?” he asked. “You could film it and add it to your Yuuri Blackmail Stash.”

“It’s not a blackmail stash, it’s just a thing friends— look, we don’t have time for this!”

“Aight,” Leo said, “lemme at ‘im and I’ll do my best.”

They elbowed their way over to the circle of onlookers surrounding a slurring Bittle and confused Yuuri, both drunk off their asses. “Aintcha never done no dance-offs b’fore?” Eric said.

“Have you ever been in a dance-off?” Leo translated, enunciating carefully and swaying slightly.

“‘S rumors. Like, tons of ‘em, ‘n’ all of ‘em gotcha winnin’ ‘gainst some miiiiiiighty tough competition,” Eric continued.

“Many rumors claim that you’ve won previous dance-offs against very tough opponents,” said Leo, deadpan.

“An’ I’m thinkin’, how ‘bout it, huh? You an’ me, here ‘n’ now, mano a mano,” Eric concluded.

“And I think we should have a dance-off here and now,” Leo said.

Yuuri blinked. “Thass wha’ he’s sayin’?” he asked. Drunk Yuuri was its own dialect, heavy with slurs and sobbing and the Saga-Ben he never quite scrubbed from his accent. Luckily, Phichit was fluent.

“Yep,” he confirmed. “You down?”

It was a foregone conclusion; between the tub juice and the pong and the kegstands, Yuuri was a good eight drinks in, and eight-drinks Yuuri was a walking bad decision. “Am I down?” Yuuri said, looking like he was about to laugh, or maybe fall over. “Phichit, ‘m a gold medalist, gonna kick ass at Worlds. I think I can take an American who doesn’ even know how t’ breakdance.”

“Famous last words, buddy,” Phichit said, but he stepped back. If this disaster happened, somebody had better preserve it for posterity, and that somebody was going to be him.

“Hey, Cheetah!” Eric hollered, and hurled his phone at Phichit. “Use my phone, I gotta Youtube channel that’s gonna wanna see this.”

The phone was already set to record, so Phichit had nothing to do but stand in a clear spot, press a button, and hold on for the ride.

“Get Me Bodied” blasted through the speakers and Phichit had no adequate words to describe what came next. There was quite a bit of breakdancing on Yuuri’s part— Phichit thought he could recognize that K-kick from the banquet photos— and Eric was shaking his ass like the world was ending and twirling around like a bizarre headbanging ballerina. Between the two of them, Phichit thought they’d used a bit of every kind of dance Phichit knew, and a few he didn’t. As the music ended, Eric came out of a giant spin and… fell? On purpose? He didn’t look hurt, and it had been timed to the music, so probably it was deliberate.

“That’s a death drop, what Bittle ended with. Although I don’t know what you call the spin he did going into it,” said Otabek from behind Phichit’s shoulder, and since when had Otabek even been at this party?

“I’ve been here all night, you just haven’t noticed because I’m not a rowdy drunk like some people,” Otabek said. “I DJ on the side, and there’s always somebody asking for the latest American hits. I figured it would be field research.”

“Okay,” said Yuuri from where he was draped against the banister, “so who won?”

Phichit pressed STOP and the recording cut out. “Everybody who just witnessed that. Maaaybe Eric, by a tiny margin? But most of all, Eric’s twitter followers,” he said, and uploaded the video.

“I’m so gonna regret that tomorrow,” Eric said, accepting a bottle of water from his boyfriend.

“I’m regretting it already,” Yuuri said. As Yuuri was tragically boyfriend-less until Victor tracked them down, Phichit grabbed some water for him.

“But oh my god, Eric, that move you did at the end? You have to teach us!” Guang-hong piped up.

“Yeah,” Phichit chirped, “Yuuri can fall on purpose for once.”

“I really hate you sometimes, Phichit, “ said Yuuri.

“Hate me later, it’s time for a podium selfie!” Phichit said, throwing Eric’s phone back to him.

Eric carefully took a photo with Yuuri, and Phichit wrote the caption for him: “4CC gold medalist katsukiyuuri and the reigning Haus Dance-Off Champion! #Epikegster #danceoffroyalty #yourfavescouldnever” The party wound down after that, and around 2 AM everybody headed back to their hotels after extracting a deal: Eric would teach them how to do a death drop someday if Yuuri helped him land a quad loop.

Bitty woke up in the middle of the night with an enormous headache, aching joints, and several thousand new followers. His phone had apparently alerted him to all of them at once, and didn’t stop buzzing for the five minutes it took Bitty to scroll to the source of the problem. Sure, the dance-off video accounted for his new Twitter followers, but why on earth was his Instagram blowing up?

And then he saw the selfie, and more importantly, the top comment.

“Jack. Jack, if you love me at all, you have to see this.”

“Bits, it’s four in the morning.”

“Look at this. Look at it. Viktor. Nikiforov. Just. Liked. My. Photo. He complimented my selfie prowess, Jack!”

“...Who?”

“I’m divorcing you.”

“We’re not even engaged!”

#omgcheckplease #yuri on ice #eric bittle #phichit chulanot #katsuki yuuri #seriously how do you tag all these characters #I won't even fucking bother #look if you're here for the Yuri On Ice I swear it gets there eventually #Four Continents would never be in Boston but wutever I do what I want

5 notes · View notes

teecupangel · 1 year ago

Note

I'm almost sorry to add another story idea to your backlog pile, BUT:

Elijah finds out what his dad went through, manages to break into a parallel universe, time travels to the 3 eras of the main ancestors, and tries to change things enough to save Desmond. Altair, Ezio, and Ratonhnhake:ton ask this tiny, angry, sarcastic, cactus of a child why he's doing what he's doing, and he eventually explains it over time.

Desmond, on the other hand, is watching all of this through the animus: a son he didn't know existed was trying to save him. An infant who he had never met, and who had never met him, was fighting time and reality itself to save him from a fate that still hasn't been explained, was showing more care and love and compassion for him than anyone Desmond had ever known before. And it hurts, because Desmond just grows to love him more and more, but thinks he'll never truly meet him outside of a Bleed.

Elijah never seems to age, even though he spends like forty years picking on Ezio. There's a statue of him in the Monterrigioni sanctuary, and he hates it with a passion.

Just... Elijah trying to fuck up time enough to save his dad, and Desmond watching all of it both touched and heartbroken, because if he's going through all of this anyways, it was all for nothing.

Then Elijah comes out of nowhere in the Grand Temple and sucker punches Juno with a data virus he had hardcoded into their lineage's DNA over nine centuries lmao

Please never be sorry for sending me an ask. Pile as much as you want as long as you guys understand that it would take a while for me to answer them (a month or so at this point XD)

Okay, but can you just imagine if Elijah was just a teenager in this one? That would give more of a sucker punch vibe to Desmond once he learns who Elijah is.

He has the ability to time travel but he can’t control where he gets sent. His goal had been to save Desmond Miles but he made the mistake of tying his time to Desmond Miles and not to someone more stable like Rebecca Crane or Shaun Hastings.

Hell, William Miles would be a better choice.

Because…

Desmond Miles’ ‘time’ is connected to the memories he watch in the Animus, making Elijah slip in and out of certain ‘times’, following the memories Desmond watches.

Desmond assumed Elijah was one of the informants in Altaïr’s memories. It’s only when Altaïr began to see him as an annoying child who always got in the way of Altaïr’s missions that Elijah told the truth.

Why?

Because Elijah has nothing to lose from telling Altaïr the truth. He was a prisoner of time itself, being yanked time and time again. He has a theory that he was being yanked to the time in Altaïr’s life where Desmond was watching him so he figured he could give Desmond information as well using Altaïr.

It would be funny, after all.

The Isus have chosen Ezio Auditore to be their prophet.

Why couldn’t Elijah make Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad his prophet then?

And he’ll take Ezio Auditore from the Isus as well.

Maybe it was Aita’s selfishness and desire for power.

Maybe it was his very own selfish desire to have something that was truly his.

“Shall we make a deal, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad?”

“A deal?” Those golden eyes seemed to pierce his very soul.

But it didn’t matter what he saw.

He cannot begin to fathom the truth.

Not yet, anyway.

Right now, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was a man lost in a vicious snowstorm threatening to swallow him whole and pull him to his frozen grave.

He still haven’t found the warmth he was meant to have, given to him by the Calculations.

“My name is Elijah.” He said, “I am a child of Time itself.”

“What nonsen-”

“I will correctly tell you what will happen when you confront Garnier de Naplouse.” Elijah stated, making Altaïr stop from walking away from him. Altaïr turned just enough to stare at him with one of his golden eyes as Elijah continued, “And I will tell you the future you are meant to have.”

“And what do you want in exchange?”

“From you? Nothing.” Elijah admitted, “All I want is a bit of your time.”

“My time?”

“To talk to Desmond Miles.”

Altaïr frowned as he said, “I do not know anyone by that name.”

“I know.” Elijah answered with a nod, “But he’s watching you. The Templars are forcing him to watch you right now and it is because he is forced to watch you that he comes to care for you so…”

“I will help you save yourself, Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad.” Elijah said, “To change your fate to whatever you desire, instead of what has been laid out in front of you. In exchange…”

“All I ask is you listen to me so I can take to my father.” Elijah’s lips curved into a small smirk that felt more Aita than him, “And to commemorate my first message to my father, I believe I should tell him an important truth.”

“Lucy Stillman is a Templar who betrayed the Assassins.”

(I feel like in this case, Elijah would provide more information and let Altaïr do what he wants. He only starts to actually have a more active roll once the memory seals from ACR starts and he grows close to Altaïr’s children. By the time he gets to Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton, he’s more ‘fuck the backseat, I’m driving’ and actively helps. This ends up with Elijah finally ‘returning’ to Desmond Miles’ time just as Minerva and Juno told him what will happen if he lets the world burn and, by that point, Elijah had already completed a device that would force Juno’s consciousness to operate the device in Desmond’s stead).

#assassin's creed #ask and answer #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #elijah miles

169 notes · View notes

teecupangel · 11 months ago

Note

I saw this amazing idea from another fandom that could be used to keep Desmond alive: his ghost possessing his own body. Not only that but whenever ghost! Desmond gets out of his body it becomes zombie! Desmond so there's two Desmond's sharing a body while trying to live(heh) in the modern time.

Oohhh, this sounds interesting.

Does this mean that Desmond’s body starts to decompose when he’s not in his body?

Or would that be too much and we’ll just let zombie!Desmond act as a usual zombie, looking for ‘food’.

Now, there should be a reason why Desmond would willingly (or unwillingly) stay out of his body. It could be that there is a limitation placed on the possession itself and Desmond could only stay for around half a day and the other half has to be him floating around as a ghost. He learns of this because the first time he returned to his body, he tried to stay there as long as he could and he’s just yanked out of the body after exactly 12 hours.

Of course, the first time this happens, he was still imprisoned in an Abstergo facility and… well… zombie!Desmond definitely had a lot of preys to eat then.

… does this mean that Desmond could accidentally start a zombie apocalypse.

Thankfully, the moment zombie!Desmond started attacking people, the entire facility went on lockdown and dropped heavy roll up covers for all entrances and exits, including windows.

This did mean that everyone is stuck inside with a growing zombie horde courtesy of zombie!Desmond.

And ghost!Desmond is just floating nearby, freaking out because he knows how this is played.

He does not want to be patient zero!

He tries to get back to zombie!Desmond but he’s pulled away each time, only able to take control for maybe 3 to 5 minutes.

Until…

12 hours passed and Desmond finally takes control.

As every single zombie turned to face him.

Because he no longer registers as one of them.

No.

He registered as ‘prey’.

And Desmond slips out of his body voluntarily this time, letting zombie!Desmond take control before the other zombies attack him.

And now…

He has to think of a way…

To kill every zombies here in approximately 12 hours… without the zombies attacking him and before Abstergo remotely opens the roll up covers to find out what has happened.

Berg and Sigma team enters the building from above later on.

They had lost contact with the facility 25 hours ago, the last transmission they received was an automatic message from the facility’s security system summarizing that the lockdown was due to an unknown highly volatile virus of unknown origins.

The security system cut off all connection to the outside world per protocol (a protocol that become the norm after an unknown hacker that has no connection to Erudito hacked a different facility and used the connection to send out different viruses to other facilities, many classified information were destroyed during the attack, including data about known Isus and Sages). Protocol states they wait 24 hours for any communications from the people in the facility or the security system before trying to breach the facility.

There was nothing.

And when they got there…

The security system had been destroyed together with all the recordings in the facility and its own black box.

And the entire place…

… was nothing more than a place of death.

No one survived.

There were signs that they had killed one another.

No.

They tried to eat each other.

Was this…

The ‘virus’ that the security system had pinged?

They could not be sure.

All they knew was…

The underground parking lot’s cover was not locked.

A person could lift it up and slip out before it fell back down.

So they had to make sure…

… to account for every single person.

Because if this was a real virus that can do such a thing…

They were looking for a potential carrier.

“Sir. Sofia Rikkin is in line 1.”

Berg nodded at the man to his right before he clicked a button on the portable radio connected to his earpiece, “This is Berg.”

“Is this right, Berg? You counted 80 bodies?”

That did not sound good. Sofia Rikkin was usually calm and a bit cold but she sounded like she was ready to tear Berg’s throat out if he said the wrong thing.

“We’re recounting the bodies but, yes. Our initial and second counting both-”

“There should be 81 bodies, Berg.”

Berg looked at the tablet in his other hand, “The list of personnel in this facility when it went on lockdown says eigh-”

“Because it’s not a personnel.”

He really wished she’d stop cutting him off.

But it was more important to hear what she was saying right now.

“Berg. The 81st body is the 2nd attempt to create an Isu body. A lot of data were destroyed during the attack years back so we used Sample 17 to plug the missing links.”

“Are you saying the possibly missing 81st body is Desmond Miles?”

“… possibly. Find that body, Berg. There haven’t been any tests done to that body yet so we don’t know what it can do. For all we know…”

“… it could be the original carrier of this unknown virus.”

#dun dun dun!#desmond is definitely a walking zombie apocalypse waiting to happen XD #his first priority is to find a place sturdy enough to keep his zombie self contained for 12 hours every day #it’s only hinted but the hacker they’re talking about is elijah #he has no hand in desmond’s ‘resurrection’#he was just trying to delete everything about him in abstergo’s database #assassin's creed #ask and answer #desmond miles #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

65 notes · View notes

teecupangel · 2 years ago

Note

Just wanted to take note of this reply from @thedragonqueen1998

A fun note with this AU is that in the book, the curse broke cause Ella got too many conflicting orders and she resisted for long enough thst the curse broke.

Just in case… one of us decides that this idea would have a ‘happy’ ending (although the ask for the deaf!Desmond getting transported to Altaïr’s time could probably count as a happy-ish ending???)

Okay, now.

Aaaaahhhh! This just got better! Ahsdahksfjakfkjfd

I’m all in for @twitcherpated’s curse logistics because the angst. Oh, the sweet, sweet angst. Desmond knowing all he could do is delay it and, even then, his delay has limitations. That always growing fear of not being able to get a counter command that would override it and being forced to find a way to complete the order in a way that wouldn't leave him empty and used.

Finally getting some semblance of peace when he leaves the Farm because no one is like his dad. No one here would order him to do something and believe he would do it without fail.

Then…

Abstergo happens.

The Animus happens and Desmond starts to Bleed and that’s when…

From @tabletoptime

I see your "what if orders given I memories carry over" and i raise you "what if orders given to Bleeds don't count" because as far as Desmond's brain is concerned, the orders are either Not For Desmond But For The Other Guy, or they're orders being given to someone who isn't actually driving at the time. Either way, it becomes the world's worst incentive to abuse the Animus. Sure he's losing his mind and becoming less himself, but when he's not himself he's /free/

Desmond feels a certain kind of peace he had almost forgotten about.

And it wasn't just in the Animus anymore.

Not when he started to having more severe Bleeding Episodes.

His Bleeds were a part of him but they weren’t him. The one that William Miles’ had ‘cursed’ was Desmond, not the shades of his ancestors.

Because, even though the curse was to his body, the curse itself was only directed into the identity of Desmond Miles.

It was like a virus that only affected the user Desmond Miles and was unavailable to other ‘guest-users’.

So Desmond starts to lean heavily to his Bleeds, letting them take over more often than not so that he didn’t have to listen to Lucy telling him to get into the Animus or Shaun telling him to go away or Rebecca asking him to check the glyph nearby.

No.

When he bleeds as Ezio… as Altaïr… they couldn’t control him.

And he could rest…

He would be confused when he finally stops Bleeding but the confusion would give way to pain because… once more, he was back in his body instead of in that… space where nothing could make him do anything he didn’t want.

Then Juno forced his body to kill Lucy when it became clear that she… and even Minerva before her… could not command Desmond the way others could.

Was it because they did not have any body of their own?

Was it because William Miles’ recreated a POE that was meant to be used by humans and not by the Isus?

Desmond found solace in the fact that he would not be forced by Juno, only to feel a sense of betrayal when Juno simply used the Apple to take control of his body.

And then he fell in a coma and when he woke up…

Altaïr and Ezio could no longer take over. He could not have even just a few minutes of peace.

The Synch Nexus had even taken that momentary peace away from him.

Add in the fact that William Miles was now their leader…

Who knew everything about Desmond’s curse and he…

He was trapped.

Everything hurt.

And that’s when Juno appeared, whispering into his ear poisoned words sweeter than any honey known to man.

Desmond knew Juno has her own agenda but it didn’t matter.

It didn't matter that it was Juno forcefully taking over that destroyed his Bleeds of Altaïr and Ezio.

Her fault that he still cannot Bleed as severely as Ratonhnhaké:ton.

Because...

There was no lie in Juno’s words.

And that was the worst part of it.

Juno didn’t need to lie. There was no need for falsehood.

Not when the truth was more effective in tempting Desmond to her side.

So when the time finally comes…

Desmond didn’t die to save the world.

Desmond died to finally be free.

He wasn't a martyr.

He was a selfish man who wanted to be free...

time for another "are you familiar with":

Are you familiar with Ella Enchanted? because the idea just popped in my head of, William Miles, in his goal to make his son a better weapon, does something foolish. The assassins don't have any POE, not after the Purge, but they know about them, have studied the technology and made notes when they've had them in their possession.

William tries to create a POE, or at least, emulate the effects of one.

He doesn't start with human trials. He's not that wasteful. But the Apple in particular is *meant* to be used on humans, so it was always going to get there, eventually.

And maybe it was selfish of him. He can see how skilled his son is, silent, observant, a quick learner. He knows, *knows* that given time, Desmond can be the best of them. Can you blame a father for wanting his son to be even better than that?

But things go wrong, spectacularly so. The lab is a ruin; he'll have to start over from scratch, if he even chooses to.

Desmond isn't seriously hurt, thank goodness. He feels guilty, promises himself he'll put more safeguards in place, next time.

Only. Something about Desmond has changed. The boy, always eager to please, becomes even more so. William's barely issued an order before Desmond is seeing to it, at most a grimace of complaint.

Bill's experiment worked, in a way. The power of the Apple, replicated with human technology. Just, not in the way he intended.

It takes longer than it should, to realize something is wrong. To realize *what* is wrong.

When Desmond, eyes downcast, says, "I think there's something wrong with me," Bill thinks he's trying to avoid training. And sure enough, when he tells Desmond to get to it without any more complaining, Desmond does. But a few days later, nervously flexing his fingers and looking up at his father, something defiant in the expression, he says, as though trying to convince himself, "I'm not complaining. I'm just making a statement. I think something is wrong with me."

William raises his brow. "And what do you want done about it?" The boy needs to learn to say what he means. If he thinks he needs to see a doctor, he should say so. There won't be room in the field for imprecision.

To his surprise, tears well in Desmond's eyes, mouth twisting into a pout.

"Crying wont get you anywhere," he says. "Say what you mean."

"If I don't do whatever you say, I get hurt," Desmond blurts, all in a rush. His tears brim over and start rolling down his cheeks as he points in the center of his chest, "A hurt starts here, and it gets w-worse and worse, until it's l-l-like I c-can't breathe--"

"Stop crying," Bill snaps, and Desmond head snaps back like he's been punched. "You're not a baby, there's no need to talk like one."

The tears keep coming, Desmond brushing them away with a clenched fist, but he's not saying anything more, looking up at Bill with pleading, desperate eyes. A little whimper escapes him, and a wince as he clutches at his chest, where hed already been pointing, and it snaps together in a second, Bill going grey as a possibility blooms in his mind.

He doesn't counter his order right away. He waits a second. Two. Five. Ten. Thirty.

(He tells himself he was still putting it together. It was an outlandish proposal, and it took him time to understand. Somewhere, in the place he shovels his guilt into a compost pile from which arrogance grows, he knows that he waited on purpose. Just to see.)

Desmond falls to his knees, writhing, making noises of pain but no words, wheezing and crying, snot dripping from his nose, and something in Bill snaps, a switch flipping from fascination to horror and he reaches out for his son, pulling him into his arms, "It's alright, you're alright, breathe, breathe Desmond, you can cry, you can do whatever you need to do, just breathe."

It is the start of a whole new kind of training.

He finds the parameters of his son's new limitations. What triggers the response, exactly. If it can be avoided. How long Desmond can resist it, and what the consequences of doing so are. How to mitigate the effects of disobedience, to delay pain for when it can be managed. What happens when conflicting orders are given. If there are limits to what Desmond has to obey.

And he orders Desmond, in the strictest possible terms, to never, *ever* tell *anyone* about his weakness, lest they take advantage of it.

Because Desmond will still be an Assassin. Bill had his doubts, at first. But though it's a serious flaw, it can be managed. And in exchange, Desmond is well on his way to being everything William thought he would be. With his condition leaving no room to hold back, no room to doubt, only pushing and pushing and pushing himself to the milestones William *knows* he can reach, Desmond will be the best of them.

(and then Desmond runs away at 16 because literally *having* to follow every order your father gives you is a fucking nightmare, and spends 9 years unable to tell anyone the most important truth about himself *and* trying to avoid anyone figuring it out *and* avoiding running into any assassins because all they'd have to do to bring him home is tell him to go, and his dad won't let him get away a second time.)

I watched it… like… yeaaarrsss ago. I never read the book though XD.

Okay, so in this setup, Desmond’s ‘curse’ comes from the failed experiment to create a POE.

Not gonna lie, this sounds like it could have Evangelion-proportion of holy shit if we tip it to the other side of ‘William Miles recreating POE using Desmond’ but let’s focus on the idea that Desmond must do whatever is ordered of him.

So, in this setup, we need to get the limitation of Desmond’s curse: He feels pain when he disobeys this curse and his chest starts to hurt until he can’t breathe anymore.

What happens when he loses consciousness? Does the curse stop or will it continue to torment him until he dies?

If we go for the first ‘outcome’, this means Desmond could find a loophole by simply waiting until he faints. If it’s the latter then we can have our angst where Desmond contemplates if an order he does not like will be the final and only order that he will ever say no to.

Of course, we do have the ‘Desmond could order himself to no longer obey any orders’ to fall back into and we have an actual reason as to why Desmond never thought of ordering himself.

By the time he had left the Farm, he would have been so frightened by the power this ‘curse’ had on him that the idea that orders he gives himself might be something he had never done.

“I can do this” is a phrase normally uttered but not for Desmond. His own father had erased that phrase in his mind and all he knows is “You must do this”.

So, for him, he would never have thought of ordering himself even by accident and he would definitely try to keep to himself.

Maybe instead of being a bartender, Desmond lives a more isolated life.

He used the training he received (a training that was more painful than it should have been) and lived his life like a ghost, stealing what he needs when he knows no one would be there. A fear that had been ingrained in him when a security guard once tried to catch him by saying “stop!” and his body refused to move until the guard ordered something else.

Another possible solution is a character of your choice who is in love with Desmond ordering Desmond to “only listen to my orders!”. It’s a questionable solution but it will definitely be one that gives us the possibility of a… ‘hotter’ interpretation of his curse. XD

Although…

Soooooo…

You wanna read about an idea that’s quite screwed up and angsty?

Of course you do.

What if…

Desmond’s curse is auditory-only and Desmond realized it when Bill gave him an order via a small note? Any orders given to him that he didn’t hear didn’t count and Bill never realized it because Desmond still did as the note instructed.

But Desmond knew…

He knew that he found a loophole.

Now, his upbringing was fucked up but he never thought of harming himself. He has the self-preservation of a moth close to a flame, sure, but deliberately endangering himself had never crossed his mind.

That’s the reason why he chose to run away.

Because he wants to live.

But then he sees how dangerous it was for someone like him to be around people so he…

Drowns the sounds out.

Using every money he has, he buys the best headphones he could and just keeps listening to music.

He didn’t want to risk the possibility that lyrics could be used to command him so he only listens to music with no vocals, the louder the better.

Until he irreparably damages his ears. But he keeps going, keeps listening…

Because he didn’t realize that he was damaging his ears.

He just thought the headphones were damaged and that’s why his hearing wasn’t as good as before.

So he listened with higher and higher volumes, even tweaking his headphones so they would blast out music louder than they should be capable of.

Until…

Desmond could only hear the silence.

And that’s when he realized…

He was free from his curse.

Tears fell from his eyes and he could not hear the sobs that left his lips.

Were they happy tears?

They were supposed to be happy tears.

So why… why does his chest hurt so much?

#oh the sweet angst #yeeeeessss #also the devastation desmond felt after reaching the synch nexus #that was the final straw #knowing that he could have been free had he let his mind be destroyed instead #oh dear yesssss #ngl #i watched ella enchanted because i had a crush on anne hathaway as a teenager XD #there’s a lot of scenes that really makes you feel bad for ella and also… sorta makes you feel second-hand embarrassment and pain???

73 notes · View notes