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mermaidsneedwater · 4 years

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you see his baby photos

photographs for this post are here

⇒ jaebeom

“Jaebeom will kill me if he knows we’re doing this.”

“Doing what?”

You and Jaebeom’s mom whipped around from the couch to see him standing in the doorway.

“Uh, nothing!” You panicked. “Just trying to decide what we should eat for dinner.”

Not believing you, Jaebeom walked to the couch to see his childhood photographs sprawled out over the coffee table and couch.

“Eomma!” He groaned.

“Don’t be mad at your mom!” you said, “I begged her to let me see them.”

Grumbling, he sat next to you on the couch as he looked through the photos on the page in your lap.

“Whatever, you were going to find them eventually.” He shrugged.

Taking that as his blessing to continue, Jaebeom’s mom showed you a photo of him as a chubby baby, sitting happily on a swing.

You were unable to contain your delight as your mouth formed into an o, “Jae you were the cutest baby ever! I just want to gobble you up.”

“Yeah, he was.” His mom remarked fondly.

“Was?” Jaebeom asked slightly irritated.

“Not so much anymore with those awful piercings.” His mother disapproved, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

Shocked, Jaebeom placed a hand over his heart. “So mean. I took it out for you.”

“And you look so handsome now without it.” His mother remarked, not looking up from the photo she was looking at. “Don’t you think Y/N?”

Blushing, you placed your hand on his cheek, “I think he looks handsome all the time.”

⇒ mark

You held the photograph of Mark and compared it to his face. You bit your lip, not wanting to say what you thought.

“What? You look like you want to say something.” Mark said, noticing your reaction.

Exhaling, you answered. “Yes, but don’t get mad.”

“I won’t now tell me.” Mark insisted.

He sat on his knees by the box of his memorabilia, interested in hearing what you had to say.

“Did you ever watch this cartoon, Crayon Shin-Chan?”

“Maybe? I think I used to watch it on Saturday mornings.”

“You look exactly like the main character, Shin-Chan, in this picture,” you said holding up the photo of mark as a baby.

Mark looked at you blankly.

“Okay let me show you.” You said.

You googled a picture of the character and held up your phone and the photograph side by side.

Inspecting the two, Mark rolled his eyes. “I don’t see it.”

“You look identical!” You exclaimed.

Shaking his head, he kept sorting photographs, “nope. I don’t look anything like him.”

“How do you not see it!” You said. “If you were a cartoon you would literally be Shin-Chan.”

“Babe, that would be like if I told you that you look like Spongebob.”

“Hey! That’s not even a remotely fair comparison.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m saying I don’t look like him.”

“Fine, agree to disagree.” You said, “even though I’m clearly right.”

Mark looked at you, but couldn’t help but laugh at your comment as you both kept sorting through photos.

⇒ jackson

Jackson was no help when it came to these kind of things.

His mom had texted you, I sent you some of Jackson’s baby photos. Let me know which ones you think are cute and I’ll get them framed.

Simple enough right? Not quite.

The afternoon had stretched into the evening as you and Jackson reminisced and discovered the pictures.

“You were so energetic.” You commented, holding the photograph of baby Jackson between your fingers. He stood smiling in a victory pose “I wonder...”

“What?” He asked, curious at your thought.

“Do you think we would’ve been friends as kids?”

“Ha! Absolutely not.” Jackson replied instantly.

“What? Why?” You frowned.

“Princess let me tell you something. Back then? You were so out of my league.” Jackson explained. “I would’ve never had a chance of being friends, much less your boyfriend.”

“That’s not true.” You protested. “I was pretty shy, you would’ve thought that I couldn’t speak.”

Shaking his head Jackson took the photograph from you and set it down on the table.

“Well then why don’t you tell me what you think.” You said, interested in hearing his theory.

“Gladly. We would’ve been classmates, I would’ve definitely had a crush on you, but being the immature person I was, I would’ve teased you incessantly. You would get so annoyed with me, but would eventually come to realize it was my stupid ways. I would eventually get the courage to ask you out, but you would let me down easy.” Jackson mapped out.

“You make me sound so unattainable.” You pouted. “I’ll tell you what I think. We would’ve been friends, you were class clown so everyone would’ve been friends with you. I would’ve had a huge crush on you, but I never would’ve said anything because I was so shy. Eventually, we’d graduate never being more than friends.”

Soaking up your story in silence, Jackson finally remarked. “I’m so glad we didn’t know each other as kids.”

⇒ jinyoung

“Oh my god.” You covered your mouth to muffle your laughter. “Jinyoung what is this?!”

You pointed and flipped through his baby photo album that contained not one, but three pages of Jinyoung sulking at various places.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Jinyoung grumbled sitting back on the couch.

On this uneventful afternoon, you’d decided to do some cleaning in your apartment, only to discover a box of photo albums Jinyoung’s parents had sent over to your apartment many months ago. Unfortunately for Jinyoung that meant more reminiscing over his baby photos and less cleaning.

“You were such a sulky baby!” You exclaimed. “Oh gosh, this one is the best.”

His ears perked up as he leaned forward to look at the photo you were pointing at.

In the photograph Jinyoung stood pouting, his large ears pointing outwards as he stood straight. He seemed to be dressed in a turquoise crocheted tank top.

“I was probably annoyed with something very reasonable!” Jinyoung attempted to defend.

Looking at him with an eyebrow raised, he held his hands up in defeat. “Fine. I was upset because my mom wouldn’t stop taking pictures of me. But don’t you think you have any photos throwing fit?”

“I definitely do, but not to the varying extent that you do,” you replied.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he spoke “alright, I think I’ve seen enough of my embarrassing pictures for the day.”

“Hey, at least you grew into your ears,” you giggled, poking his side.

He turned to give you the same sulking look as the photograph. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Turning to look at him, you continued flipping through the book, “I love you too,”

You leaned to kiss both of his ears “especially your ears” you then leaned in to peck his lips, resting your forehead against his “and your face when you’re sulking.”

⇒ youngjae

You sifted through the photographs of Youngjae past on your coffee table.

JYP had asked Youngjae to send in a baby photo of himself as a special photo card option for their next comeback.

Stressed and overwhelmed by the pressures of idol life, Youngjae had delayed this task by weeks.

As you cooked dinner, you glanced at Youngjae’s phone to see a message.

You need to send in your baby photo ASAP.

You finished cooking and headed to your albums. There were too many choices. Flipping through the albums you narrowed your choices down to three photos. Laying them out on the coffee table, you folded your hands on your lap contemplating.

Lost in thought, you didn’t even realize Youngjae had awoken from his nap until he wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey,” Youngjae said, his voice still groggy. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve been putting off sending your baby photo so I thought I’d help you out.” You informed him.

“Thank you darling.” He kissed your cheek before sitting down next you.

“Any thoughts on which one to send?” You turned to him. “I narrowed it down to three. I know which one I think you should send in, but it should be your choice.”

Scanning the photos in front of him, Youngjae finally spoke, “let’s point to our choice at the same time.”

“1”

“2”

“3” you said at that same time.

Looking to where your fingers pointed you smiled.

“I guess it’s settled then.” Youngjae laughed.

The photo you’d both picked had been one of Youngjae and his father. He was holding his son as Youngjae drank from a bottle.

“I love this photo, you look just like your dad.” You told him. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

⇒ bambam

“You look so innocent.” You showed Bambam the photograph. “What happened to you?”

Bambam looked up from his phone to see his baby photo on your phone.

“Hey! How did you get that?” He said.

“Your sister sent it to me.” You replied nonchalantly. “She sent some real gems.”

“Since when are you and Baby texting about me?” Bambam asked, curious.

“Maybe a month?” You said, thinking back to the first time she texted.

“A month!” Bambam exclaimed. “Oh god.”

“Oh god is right. I can see why you’re a performer now, you’re a natural.” You told him.

Leaning his back on the couch, he sat up thinking about your earlier comment.

“What did you mean I was so innocent.” He pouted folding his shoulder. “I’m still squeaky clean.”

“Oh please, the Bambam I know now is literally the guy who texted me last week after work that he wanted me on the bed and ready for his big–“

“Okay! I get it.” Bambam interrupted.

“See? Not so innocent.” You said. You held up his baby photo “This baby on the other hand, total angel.”

⇒ yugyeom

“Y/N don’t look at that.” Yugyeom said.

Ignoring his warning you continued flipping through his childhood album. You looked up to see your man child of a boyfriend towering over you and pouting.

“These are so embarrassing, please don’t.” He pleaded with you.

“You were so cute!” You countered. “Please let me see them. I think you were adorable.”

Giving in, he sat next to you on the couch. “Fine. But I’m going to go through them too.”

You both sat on the couch, placing the album between you.

“Are you wearing roller skates in this?” You pointed to baby Yugyeom’s feet. “I wanna hear the story behind this.”

“Oh man, that was before I cut my head.” Yugyeom reminisced.

“What?!” You said, shocked that he had been in so much danger.

“Yeah. My dad had taken me and my brother out to rollerskate. I was so stubborn as a kid, I refused to wear a helmet.” Yugyeom recounted to you. “Things were fine until I tripped on my skate and ended up hitting my head on a rock. There was blood everywhere”

“That must’ve been scary.” You said, leaning on his shoulder.

“I think my dad was more freaked out that me. Luckily I only needed two stitches.” He rested his head against yours. “I still have the scar.”

You leaned back as Yugyeom pulled his hair out of his face. Lifting it up, he revealed a scar going into his forehead.

Reaching out, you gingerly touched it. Pressing a kiss to your index and middle finger you placed it on the scar.

“How come I never noticed this scar before?” You wondered aloud. “It makes you look sexy.”

Scoffing, Yugyeom released the hair he was holding. “I was such an idiot. Hopefully our kids don’t turn out as dumb as me.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words. Hopefully our kids don’t turn out as dumb as me. He was thinking about that?

Taking in your reaction, he lightly coughed, “I mean you know, in the future. The very far future.”

You smiled, kissing his cheek. “I hope they can dance like you. It would be a shame if they got my two left feet!”

return to masterlist

#got7 #yugyeom #jinyoung #jaebeom #bambam #mark #Jackson #youngjae #got7 reaction #got7 reactions #got7 imagines #got7 masterlist #ahgase #igot7 #mnw works

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halfway-happyyy · 4 years

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Sleep on the Floor

AN: I’ve thought about this concept on and off for a while now, and finally decided to write it down. Alexander and a rather unfriendly acquaintance cross paths again at a music festival, and end up handcuffed together for the day. Under the cut because it’s lengthy 💖

tw: nothing but fluff, friends.

As always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

It was the bright glare of the sunlight glinting off the metal object in the back pocket of her best friend’s denim shorts that initially caught Daisy’s attention. After an hour of scouring multiple maps of Montreal’s many metro lines- (“Well do we need to take the orange line or the green one?” and “Can’t you just google maps it?” and perhaps Daisy’s personal favourite- “We should have just spent the sixty dollars on an uber.”) The trio of friends had finally made it to Parc Jean-Drapeau, where the three-day Osheaga music festival was being held. “Bea, what’ve you got in your pocket there?” Daisy reached toward her without an answer or invitation, and produced a pair of weighted, silver handcuffs.

Bea lunged for the cuffs back, a smirk in place on her features.

“What on earth could you possibly need handcuffs for at a music festival?” Daisy asked, eyebrows raised in genuine confusion.

Returning the cuffs to her pocket, Bea shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, the smirk from moment’s ago still tugged the edge of her lip upward. “It’s been my experience that you just never know when you’ll need ‘em. Be good Daze, or I’ll use them on you.” And Daisy supposed that after a couple of choice alcoholic beverages that could start to sound like one hell of a fun proposition.

“I literally don’t see him anywhere Bea,” Hannah sighed heavily.

Daisy glanced at Bea’s better half; a hand shielded her gaze from the onslaught of the sun’s rays as she stood on tiptoes to scan the expansive park around her. “Who are you looking for?”

Hannah dropped back onto the balls of her feet; her bottom lip wedged between her teeth like she was anxious about something. “Did Bea not tell you?” She peered over at her girlfriend, expectantly. “Did you not tell her?”

Bea rolled her hazel eyes and murmured “shit.”

Daisy’s vision narrowed. “What’s going on?”

Hannah squinted over at Daisy, kicking aside a stray pebble with the toe of her pink platform sneaker. “We uh… We invited Alex and some of his friends to join us for the weekend.”

Her mouth suddenly devoid of all moisture, Daisy wished that she had a bottle of beer in her hand, or some other ice-cold alcoholic beverage to distract her from the heat rising steadily to her cheeks. Tongue thick in her throat, she turned to her friends. “You invited Alex Skarsgård to our Osheaga weekend?” Shifting from side to side uncomfortably, Bea eventually nodded her head in the affirmative. Daisy took a deep breath. “I just think that might have been good information to know before now.”

“You wouldn’t have come…” Hannah interjected.

A humorless laugh bubbled up from the base of Daisy's throat. “You’re probably right.” Hives of people from all over the country milled about the green hillsides, a myriad of accents and languages- mostly French, echoed throughout the vast park. Daisy raised her face to the heavens, reveling in the feeling of the late July sun on her skin and sighed heavily.

“What is it about him?” Bea asked quietly.

Daisy's eyes fell shut. “Where would I even begin?”

“Alright, here they come.” Hannah murmured.

Bea offered her dearest friend a sympathetic look but knew better than to touch her just then. “He wants to make it up to you, Daze.”

Daisy swallowed hard and followed Hannah’s gaze to the quartet of men currently striding towards them. He bore a striking resemblance to the man she had known a year ago, though his dark blonde hair was longer now, and stubble shadowed the underside of his chiseled jaw. Clad in a pair of dark jeans, a grey t shirt and a pair of black converse high-tops, a round pair of yellow tortoise-shell sunglasses sat perched atop his head. “I don’t need him to,” Daisy murmured. “Just try and help me keep my distance from him today, alright?”

Bea was apprehensive, but nodded her head in agreement. “Alright.”

“Good afternoon ladies!” Alexander exclaimed jubilantly once he had caught up to them. He greeted both Hannah and Bea with bear hugs like he’d known them his whole life, and not a mere couple of years. When he got to Daisy, she was surprised to see that his grin hadn’t faltered at all. “Hello Daisy. It’s nice to see you again.”

She offered him a wilted smile. “Hi, Alex.”

He faltered a beat before turning to the three men next to him. Daisy knew by the sight of them that they had to be related to Alexander in some way, each one a wide-eyed and giraffe-like carbon copy of the other. “Ladies, this here is my good pal Oskar, my kid brother Valter, and my other brother Bill.”

And God said, “Let there be Skarsgård’s,” and there were Skarsgårds.

Bea cleared her throat. “Alright, gang. Shall we check out the rest of the park? Find a watering hole?”

Alexander held out an arm before him. “Lead the way, friend.”

“How long are you guys here for?” Hannah asked as they made their way into a beer tent on the platinum grounds.

“Just for the weekend. Then I'm back to New York for a couple of meetings and then uh… these guys and I,” He winked at the three men next to him. “Are supposed to be in Stockholm for a wedding next week.” Alexander reached into his back pocket for his wallet and approached the bartender behind the counter. “Hey there. How are you?”

"Fantastic." A miniscule fan in the corner of the tent did little to blow any actual cool air around, and a slick sheen of perspiration bloomed over her neck and forehead.

“You must be pumped to be able to hear all the music from here!” Bill beamed at her.

She smacked the wad of pink bubblegum in her mouth, her expression deadpan. “Absolutely ecstatic.”

Valter cleared his throat to keep from laughing.

“Alright then. Uh,” Alexander squinted at the black chalkboard drink menu above him. “What have you got in the way of alcohol for shots?”

“Vodka. Gin. Tequila.”

He turned to the group, gaze expectant. “What are we all in the mood for?”

“Vodka!” Had been the resounding answer, and Daisy didn’t think she’d ever been more ready to shoot straight liquor in her entire life. The alcohol was rough, and it stoked the fire already roaring in the pit of her belly, causing beads of sweat to bloom on her forehead. They milled about for another fifteen minutes, and Daisy was awed by how much alcohol the seven of them had been able to consume in such a short amount of time. Some drinks came in the form of grotesque shooters- “We drink these all the time back home!”, others had taken the shape of ice-cold beers beneath the salvation of another tent. It occurred to her that the breakfast she had consumed a couple of hours ago was insufficient for the poison now in her system, and that down the line, it might pose a bit of a problem. For now, Daisy was simply content to sip whatever she was given, and to enjoy the first full day of her vacation.

Their first set of the weekend was the Foo Fighters- and by some stretch of a miracle, the festival gods had blessed her with a spot in the crowd that made for a fantastic vantage point of the stage. She was naive to assume that it would happen again, so she watched Dave Grohl dominate the crowd in unbridled awe, and without a care in the world. And when they played My Hero- she joined along with the sea of people around her and sang her heart out to every single word.

After the set ended, the seven of them managed to touch base again beneath a patch of glorious shade. “It’s come to my attention that you and I have some unfinished business, Daisy.” Alexander had to yell to be heard above the roar of the white noise around them.

Even surrounded by hundreds of strangers, Daisy felt inexplicably naked beneath his gaze and she shifted uncomfortably on the spot. “You don’t owe me anything, Alex.”

“I owe you an apology, Daisy.”

A sigh exited her mouth in the form of a puff of air, and she eyed the people walking past her with mild contempt. “Just for one day, just one, I want to know what it feels like to be tall at a concert.”

“I know how you feel, Daze.” Hannah fanned a hand in front of her face in a useless attempt to keep the sweltering heat at bay.

Valter laughed and traded sheepish expressions with Bill. “Unfortunately, we don’t.”

Alexander clicked his tongue and glanced down at her, azure eyes glittering mischievously. “View from down there not so great, huh?”

His tone brimmed with mirth and Daisy’s skin prickled under the heat of it; the urge to smack the smirk from his face was all-consuming. She stared up at him, pointedly. “As someone who probably shares- at least most- of their genetic makeup with that of the Brachiosaurus, I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it’s like.”

His guffaw was loud and booming, and it caused Daisy’s heightened blood pressure to soar beneath the scorching Montreal weather. “Yeah, well, every woman in your maternal bloodline for the past one hundred years was probably four foot eleven, tops. You take what you’re given, kid.” Silence hung between them and Daisy shot Bea a look that simply said, ‘you did this to me, and eventually you will pay for it’. Alexander cleared his throat, oblivious to the mounting tension. “Look, if you want I can hoist you onto my shoulders for the next set and then you’ll know exactly what it’s like to be tall at a concert.”

Daisy took a deep sip of her beer, her defiant gaze trained on something unseen before her. “Your concern for my experience here is heartwarming, really it is, but believe me when I say that I’d rather suffer down here.”

Alexander shrugged and shook his head in mild amusement. “Suit yourself then, half-pint.” Venomous words threatened to erupt from her throat, but they stayed lodged where they were, because just then and with the expertise of someone who was inexplicably well-versed in the act, Bea had managed to clasp a silver handcuff around Daisy’s left wrist. She stared at it in alcohol-induced amusement, and suddenly everyone around them was laughing. She lifted her arm to try and shake her wrist out of it, but a heavy weight dropped it back down to her side, and the realization that the other half of her cuff was bound to Alexander’s right wrist, was sudden and all-consuming. She swallowed hard.

“While admittedly funny for the first few milliseconds, I’m going to have to insist that you unlock us now.”

Bea levelled her honeyed gaze with Daisy’s and smiled sweetly. “Relax Daze. You’ll be free of each other by nightfall.”

All Alexander could do was howl. “Nightfall? Good luck-" He managed in between fits of laughter. “Getting the kid to last half an hour!” When his laughter had subsided, he cleared his throat and glanced down at Bea, his blue gaze twinkled roguishly. “C’mon Bea. Let us out, hm?”

Bea shook her head and patted the miniscule outline of the key in her pocket. “Last set of the day. Nightfall. I promise.”

There had been protests from both sides, but for as strong-willed as Daisy knew her best friend to be, she also knew that she wasn’t in the business of giving in easily and the pair of them gave up trying while they were ahead. While mind-numbingly irritating for the first few hours, the all-consuming heat eventually zapped Daisy of her ability to care about anything except for cold drinks and air conditioning, and she supposed, begrudgingly, that there were worse people to be chained to for a day. It was only after their lunch of tacos and beer from a local food truck- Daisy and Alexander sat atop a bed of grass, knee-to-knee, that they realized they had managed to get split up from the rest of the crew. But if either of them had been worried about it, they didn’t let it show. “Who are you most excited to see play here?” Daisy asked for no reason, other than she could think of nothing else to say.

Alexander tipped the neck of the beer bottle to his lips with his free hand and took a hearty gulp. “Who am I most excited to see? Who are you most excited to see?”

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t answer a question with a question. Besides, I asked you first.”

He pursed his lips together as if he were thinking hard about it. “The person I am most excited to see, have been waiting all year for… has to be Cardi B.”

She stared at him, deadpan. “You’re kidding.”

“Actually, I’m not. I’d tell you to confirm with Valter but he is, very conveniently, missing in action.”

Daisy laughed suddenly, and it was a laughter that came in waves and spurred on his own, each of them nearly doubled over as they gave in to their fits. “Gonna to do the WAP?” She breathed out when she could manage it, wiping away traces of saltwater with the pad of her thumb.

Alexander feigned solemnity. “Listen, I would do the WAP dance right this very minute if it weren’t for these cuffs.”

“I believe you.” She giggled.

"I'm glad." His face broke into a beam that put sunshine to shame. Draining the rest of the bottle, he set it back onto the grass and cocked his head to the side. “And you? Who are you most excited to see?”

Daisy stared up at him, the answer had been ready on the tip of her tongue, but something in his eyes stopped her dead in her tracks. “You have the loveliest flecks of gold in your eyes, did you know that?”

Alexander’s gaze fell to the grass beneath him, his smile painfully shy. “Let’s find us some more beer then, hey? Up on three.”

“Good plan. But we have an issue to resolve first,” Daisy murmured.

Alexander faltered; his head cocked to the side in question. “You mean- apart from the one where we are currently joined at the hip until Bea decides to take mercy on us?”

Daisy nodded. “Right. Besides that one. I have to pee… really bad.” He opened his mouth to say something, but a chuckle roared from the base of his throat instead, and Daisy swore it was like hearing laughter for the very first time. There was an infectious joy to it that made her want to make him laugh like that for that for the rest of her days.

“Alright. Let’s find you a washroom.”

It hadn’t been a difficult venture; platinum tickets holders benefited from the use of private on-site washrooms, and it occurred to Daisy that the astronomical price for the ticket was worth it, solely based on that luxury itself. “I’m sorry that this a thing you are being privy to.” Daisy muttered as they squeezed into a stall together.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, I’ve been privy to worse things, kid. I’ll turn away.”

As Daisy hiked her sundress up her frame and squatted above the toilet, she reminded herself that revenge was a dish best served cold, and that one way or another, Bea would pay.

Alexander and Daisy’s afternoon continued in the same fashion; they attended whatever sets piqued their interests, lost track of how many people commented on their unusual predicament, and satiated their parched throats with lots of cold alcoholic beverages. Finally, the golden sun began to sink low over the Montreal skyline, and the temperature drop that came with it was a welcome reprieve to the day's stifling heat. They found themselves amidst a healthy crowd of people, all breathless and ready for one of the final sets of the evening. As she waited for the band to take the stage, Daisy suddenly felt exhausted beyond all measure, but also satisfied in a way that she hadn't been accustomed to in years. She could pin it on the alcohol, or the heat, or that she had finally allowed herself a couple of days off to do whatever she pleased. Deep down, she knew it had nearly everything to do with her current company.

“Where did you go just now?” Alexander asked.

Daisy glanced up at him, confused. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

He seemed unconvinced. “You were a million miles away.”

A shiver wracked her body that had nothing to do with the current weather, and she gestured to the stage. “The Lumineers. These are the guys I'm most excited to see.”

Alexander beamed down at her. “Well then how lucky am I that I get to see them with you.”

Two men entered the stage just then, one stepped up to the microphone, and the other took a seat behind a drum set. Daisy didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until the opening beats of Sleep on the Floor rang out into the humid air before her. A cacophony of cheers erupted from the concertgoers around them, and goosebumps bloomed in patterns over her arms when the bearded man began to sing.

Pack yourself a toothbrush dear

Pack yourself a favorite blouse

Take a withdrawal slip

Take all of your savings out

‘Cause if we don’t ever leave this town

We might never make it out

I was not born to drown

Baby come on

“The key is gone.”

The day’s final concert had done Daisy in, and she was inexplicably tired now; her legs heavy like lead, eyelids threatening to shut on their own at any second.

“What do you mean the key is gone, Bea?” She heard Alexander ask. His voice was level, but there was an underlying tinge of frustration to it that made Daisy’s stomach sink.

“It’s… it’s gone. I had it in my pocket earlier and now it’s gone.”

Daisy yawned wide, the urge to lay down on the patch of grass beneath her was almost too tempting to bear. “I’m tired, Alex.”

“I know, kid.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Where did you last have it?”

Bea tugged the edge of her lip into her mouth and shrugged her shoulders, helplessly. “I last had it in my pocket.” Dozens of people pushed past the group on their way out of the park; on their way home to waiting bathtubs and beds and Daisy was unbelievably envious of them.

“Alright. This is what we’re going to do,” He sighed. “The four of us are going to get into a cab, we’re going to head back to the hotel, and Daisy and I will meet up with you guys right here tomorrow morning. If the key still hasn’t turned up, we’ll have to figure something else out.”

“I’m really sorry about this, guys.” Bea muttered lowly.

You absolutely should be, Daisy thought.

Hannah cleared her throat, her arms crossed tight across her chest. “Are you alright with this Daze?”

She nodded, wordlessly.

Their uber ride back to the hotel only spanned the entirety of fifteen minutes, but it seemed like a lifetime to Daisy. She drifted off on Alexander’s shoulder to the lulling sound of muted Swedish between the three men, and when she was gently tapped awake by Alexander, the car was parked outside of the Four Seasons. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you into bed, hm?”

“This is fancy…” She murmured, as she slid out of the open car door and into the humid evening air.

Valter laughed heartily. “Just wait til you see where you’re staying, Daisy.”

The boys bid themselves goodnight, with Alexander slinging his free arm around each of their shoulders in a half-embrace. He waited until he knew Bill and Valter had made it into their elevator safely, and then led Daisy to a discreet elevator off the lobby, which they rode to the top floor wordlessly. She wasn’t sure what she had expected when the doors opened, but her breath hitched in her throat as she drank in the room in which Alexander was calling home for the next three days. “This is-

“A lot, I know.” He murmured. They wandered past the single king bed, into the next room, whose expansive bay windows offered a breathtaking view of Montreal’s twinkling downtown lights. Daisy gazed down at their entwined wrists, at the small metal chain that bound them together, and marveled at how a mere twelve hours had the power to change everything. “Daisy, I’m sorry.” Alexander spoke above a whisper now. “I’m sorry for leaving you behind last year.”

She took a deep breath, the words thick at the back of her throat. “I never should have put you in a position where you felt that you had to choose between your career, and me.”

Alexander’s fingers found hers, and he squeezed them thrice. “You waltzed into my life when I least expected it, Daisy,” An incredulous sigh pushed past his lips and he shook his head. “A breathtaking hurricane of a woman. I made the decision to ask you to dinner, I should have showed up.”

She smiled tiredly. “You showed up today, Alex.”

He leaned towards her, pressing his lips to her temple, and his laughter rumbled through her and warmed her in ways sunshine never could. “And look where we are now.”

She gazed up at him, at the deepened creases next to his eyes, and the subtle flecks of gold among a sea of blue, and in that moment, she hardly cared if they ever found the key at all. There was an effortlessness to that truth that felt akin to breathing. “Nowhere else I’d rather be, Alex.”

When Daisy's eyes opened in the morning, the weight of Alexander's impossibly warm arm hung snug around her clothed stomach, the cool metal of his cuff a stark contrast to her warm inner arm. The Montreal sunlight pouring in through their bay window glinted off a miniscule key-shaped object on the rug a few feet away from where they lay, and a small smile tugged her lips skyward.

#i just wanna go to a concert with him #is that so much to ask #alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard oneshot #alexander skarsgard imagines #alexander skarsgard fluff #alexander skarsgard fanfic #rpf #writing #drabble #fluff #alex sstuff

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youreacowgirllikeme · 4 years

Text

Coffee to go

Pairing: Chris Cuomo x female Reader

Warning: Swearing, Smut (only read this if you’re 18+ pls), NSFW, not edited

Note: Alright, this is my first attempt at smut so be nice pls (also I’m not a native speaker, so sorry for my grammar)

The cold November wind blows right into your face as you walk (actually, it was more of a jog) through the streets of Washington DC.

“You will reach your destination in 200 meters“ the computer voice from google maps tells you through your headphones. You break into a run, clutching your hot coffee cup tightly to prevent it from spilling over.

“Shit, don’t let me be late on my very first day of work“ you whisper to yourself, as you finally reach the huge glass doors of the CNN headquarters.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N“ you tell the security guard at the entrance, showing your ID„ I’m the new intern in the politics department.“

„First Elevator on the right, then all the way up to the 10th floor.“

You pass the security check and mumble a quick “Thank you!” to the guard as you make your way over to the elevator. You have 3 minutes left.

“This is my dream job, this is my dream job. It’s finally happening.“ you repeat to yourself, alone in the cabin.

You still can’t believe that you were granted the prestigious position as an intern for the DC politics department at CNN. You graduated with a degree in journalism from Oxford, UK this summer, but with the current political climate and the presidential election coming up, you felt like DC was the place to be at the moment. When you saw there was an internship at CNN advertised, you didn’t hesitate and applied. And all the hard work you put into getting excellent grades and doing tons of extracurricular work payed off, because here you were, on your first day of work.

You try to calm your fluttering nerves one last time with deep breaths and a sip of your still fairly hot coffee.

As the mechanical voice announces the elevators arrival on the 10th floor, you practically storm out of the doors...and run straight into a wall.

“Oh Fuck!“ a deep voice exclaimes, and as you take a step back you see that the wall you ran into was, in fact, a man. A very tall, broad and handsome looking man...with your hot coffee spilled all over his white dress shirt and a furious look on his face.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, Sir!“ you cry out, praying for the ground to swallow you up. What a perfect first impression. You reach in your pocket to grab a handkerchief, but he dismisses you bluntly with a wave of his hand.

„Just watch where you going next time.“

Giving you one last sharp glare, he walks away, disappearing into a door further down the hallway.

Still mortified, you throw your now empty coffee cup onto the nearest bin and hurry to the room you were told to go in your admission email. It’s a tiny office, where a moddle-aged woman sits on a desk loaded with paperwork.

“Good Morning Ma’am, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the new politics intern, starting today.“ you tell her, hoping that your face isn’t beet red anymore and your jacket is free of coffee stains. The woman glances up from her computer screen and gives you a quick look over.

“About time. Welcome to CNN, I’m Susan, your supervisor.“

She rummages trough a desk drawer.

"Here is your company ID, a key to the break room, you already sent us your signed contract, didn’t you?“ she asks in a monotoneus voice.

"Yes, thank you so much.“ you say, taking the offered items. "Is there already a list of what my tasks here are going to be?“

"Yes, with the election coverage starting tomorrow, there is still a lot of preparation to do. You’ve been assigned to run errands for our anchor team today, and I guess also for the rest of the week. Paperwork, coffee, stuff like that, just be at their back and call. We expect it to be a tight race, and we need to cover it 24 hours a day. So be prepared to spend most of your time here.”

"There’s a locker in the break room, put your stuff there. The copy room is next door, make 3 copies of those papers and bring them to Chris Cuomo, he’s our lead anchor for the election coverage. His office is the last door down the hall on the right. And hurry, we don’t have a lot of time and he’s not exactly a patient man.” She starts typing something on her phone, obviously dismissing you.

You rush to the break room, hastily throw your bag and jacket in the last free locker, checking your appearance one last time in the mirror (face still a bit red, but no coffee stains, thank god) and go on to make those copies next door. You let your mind wander while the copier does it’s job.

Chris Cuomo. You know he hosts a well known daily prime time show on CNN, but you’ve never seen it as it airs in the middle of the night in the UK. You’re actually suprised they chose him for the job of the election lead anchor, considering he was originally based in the New York Office of CNN. You try to remember what he looked like, but you have no idea. And no time to google him.

So you just grab the stack of papers and bolt down the hallway to the door Susan described. There’s a provisional sign on the door, bearing the name “Christopher C. Cuomo”.

You knock three times and hear a loud "Come in“ from the other side of the door. You enter...and stop instantly, eyes going wide.

Standing in front of you is the guy from the elevator. The hot one. The one who’s dress shirt you ruined with your beverage.

Said dress shirt lies on the floor in a crumpled heap. The man, obviously Chris Cuomo himself, is wearing only a white undershirt, apparently in the middle of changing clothes . His huge, muscled arms are on full display. And he’s looking directly at you, one eyebrow arched.

“Can I help you?” he asks with a hint of annoyance in his deep voice.

You realize you are staring, and quickly try to compose yourself.

“Uhm, yes, I’m so sorry to bother you, Mr Cuomo, I’m Y/N, the new intern. I’m here to deliver those papers from Susan’s office . I’ve been assigned to assist you today...Sir” you add hastily.

“Assist me, huh? I hope this doesn’t involve any more coffee. I only have so many white shirts.”

“I’m so sorry again for that, Mr. Cuomo.”

“Don’t worry, kid” he says, now giving you a closer look. His eyes are a perfect shade of blue-green. The heat started creeping back in your face under his scrutizing gaze.

“You’re a Brit, aren’t you?”

You just give a quick nod, not trusting your ability to speak properly. He comes a step closer, arms crossed in front of his broad chest.

“Have a good start then, Y/N” he says, voice dropping a bit, still holding intense eye contact.

You feel your heart rate going through the roof and pray that he won’t detect it. This mans presence was really intense and brought all kind of distracting thoughts to your mind.

Your "Thank you so much, Sir” comes out way less confident than you intended to, and you basically flee through the office door you hadn’t even bothered to close when you entered.

“Wow!” you think to yourself, “It’s the first day, and you already made a fool of yourself and now have a giant crush on the lead anchor, who’s at least in his 40s. Good job.”

This was going to be interesting.

(Next Day, afternoon)

“Don’t stare, don’t stare.”

You chant your mantra in your head for what felt like the hundredth time this day.

The last 24 hours have been the most exciting, stressful and demanding ones of your entire life. You currently run on what feel like 5 liters of coffee, some energy bars and a two hour nap you managed to catch on the couch in the break room, the circumstances leaving you with a constant feeling of giddy exhaustion.

But no matter how much your eyes were burning, you couldn’t take them off Chris Cuomos hands. Those big, strong hands with thick fingers, holding manuscripts, fixing his tie or just opening a bottle of water. You try your best not to think about how those hands would feel like on your bare skin, grabbing your hair, pushing your tights apart. The burning feeling between your legs intensifies as you feel yourself starting to get wet.

Chris is wearing a black suit today and looks so unbelievably good that you want to cry. His confident, almost dominant demeanor in front of the cameras, combined with his sharp witted comments on the latest news only fuel your growing attraction to him.

Youre standing in the corner of the studio, holding a stack of papers and a clipboard with the latest numbers of some irrelevant county in Alabama that you need to hand over to the anchor desk.

The cameras move over to Phil on the magic wall. Chris uses the quick moment out of frame to stretch his arms above his head, his shoulder muscles clearly visible even through the suit jacket. You’re staring again. And he’s looking directly at you with a knowing smirk.

He caught you.

You feel your face flushing again and you quickly begin to shuffle through the papers in your hand in a poor attempt to appear busy.

“Thank you Phil, we’re taking a quick break now, stay with us.” Chris’ voice sounds through the studio. As soon as you made sure that the cameras are turned off, you hurry over to the anchor desk, putting down the fresh manuscripts with the latest numbers and restock the water bottles, all while trying your best to avoid Chris, still mortified that he caught you checking him out.

The commercial break only lasts about five minutes, so you quickly make your way to the studios supply cupboard to fetch some new water bottles. They were on the top shelf, just barely out of reach for you. You were already standing on your tiptoes, but no chance.

“Need any help with that?” a deep voice suddenly says right behind you. You startle, loosing your balance and fall right into the hard chest of Chris Cuomo. Strong arms sneak around you, steadying you. In that moment you become aware of the heat radiating from his huge form, his delicious smell of aftershave and coffee filling your senses.

Your pulse is like a hammer in your chest as he lets go of you, giving you the opportunity to turn around and face him.

“We really can’t have any normal interactions, Y/N?” he asks, studying you, again with that intense gaze and a little smirk.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Mr. Cuomo, I don’t know what’s up with me, I’m usually not that clumsy. Must be the lack of sleep.“ you ramble and try to return his stare, forcing your voice to sound steady and confident, something you weren’t feeling at all.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind you falling into me at all.” He comes closer, his huge form filling out most of the tiny storage room. You take a small step back and feel the shelf behind you. You look to the floor, absolutely overwhelmed with the situation (and without a doubt, with a beet red face again) One of Chris‘ giant hands reaches out and turns your chin up to meet his eyes. His touch burns and tingles on your skin.

“I would appreciate it if you would look at me when I’m talking to you.“ he says in a intense and stern tone that sends a hot throb to your center and makes you take a sharp breath. You feel your nipples hardening under your blouse, wetness gathering in your pussy.

„Yes, of course, please forgive me, Sir.“ You look up to meet his eyes.

His pupils are dark and dilated as he lets out a deep, shuddering breath. The tension between you is almost palpable.

„Come to my office after the shift is over. Alone.“ he says and storms out of the storage room, leaving you behind in a horny, confused mess, waterbottles totally forgotten.

The next few hours are agonizing. Not only is the election a really tight race, your nerves are in a total frenzy because of what happened in the storage room. You keep replaying the interaction in your head and try your best to not stare over to where Chris was sitting, failing miserably every time. One time, your eyes meet his, but he just arches his eyebrows and looks back onto his laptop screen.

The dominance with which he had talked to you stood in a total contrast to the gentle touch of his fingers on your face. You are confused, and more turned on than you have ever been by anyone else.

You want to kiss him, want his hands all over your body, touching your naked skin, claiming you. Why does he want you to come tonhis office? The uncertainty was driving you crazy.

Time was creeping at such a slow pace, but finally the day shift is over. You ask an extremely tired looking Susan for a break which she begrudgingly grants you.

After quickly freshening up, you make your way through the empty hallway to Chris office, heart almost jumping out of your chest. What the hell was going to happen?

Straightening your blouse one last time, you knock on the door, waiting for the allowance to enter.

”Here goes nothing.”

Chris sits behind his desk, both suit jacket and tie hanging over the chair.He’s looking at you, as if he’s expecting you to make a move.

There was a prominent vein in his temple that became more noticeable the longer you stood there, failing to get a word out, hands trembling at your sides.

His shirt sleeves were turned up, and the view of his defined forearms sends a throb of want directly to your core. Finally, Chris breaks the silence and adresses you.

“Y/N, why are you here?”

His arms are crossed in front of his chest, accentuating his biceps. You just stand there, unable to move a single muscle.

He gets up from behind his desk and makes his way over to where you are, stopping directly behind you. A shiver goes down your spine because of the close proximity.

His next words are spoken with his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his hot breath against your cheek, his deep voice making the hair on your arms stand up.

“I asked you a question, little one. Answer me.”

You gathered every ounce of courage you had.

“I want you to touch me.”

He doesn’t move.

“Please, Sir.”

Suddenly, two strong hands grab your shoulders and spin you around.You stare directly into Chris’ face, his dark pupils are blown, there is a look of unhinged lust on his face.

A second later, his lips come crashing down on yours. The kiss isn’t gentle, all tongue and teeth and passion, making your head spin and your knees weak.

One of Chris hands sneaks around your back and grabs your ass, giving it a rough squeeze. You moan loudly as he holds you even closer, his hard bulge pressing against your abdomen. His big, hot body pushes you back against his desk and he effortlessly lifts you to sit on top of it.

Chris takes a step back, his large hands sprawled on your tights. You can feel the heat of his skin all the way through your trousers, the need to have him is so strong that you feel like your whole body is on fire.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, little one?” He says in low, throaty voice, holding your tights in a hard, almost bruising grip. “Staring at me, biting those pretty lips, undressing me with your eyes, making me hard every time. You’re just begging for it, aren’t you?”

He kisses you again, and starts to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. You can’t focus, your hands clutching at his back, little gasps of pleasure coming out of your mouth.

“Yes, please, I need you” you exclaim, admitting what’s on your mind since the moment you saw him wearing that undershirt. His hands leave your tights and start opening the zipper of your trousers, pulling them down your legs in one smooth motion.

His hands are now roaming up and down your bare legs, slowly coming closer to the pool of heat and want between them.

“Oh my God, please touch me.” you beg, longing to finally feel his fingers on your aching pussy.

One of his large hands leaves your leg and gives you a hard smack on your ass, the pain causing you to utter a sharp cry and sending a pulse of heat straight between your legs.

“Ah, be polite, little one. Use your words and ask me properly for what you want.” Your face is burning, why was hearing this so incredibly hot?

��Please touch my pussy and fuck me, Sir, I need your cock.”

You can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. But this was an exceptional situation, and right now you’d say anything if it would result in Chris cock buried inside you.

He smiles a devious grin. “I wanted to do this since the moment you stepped into my office yesterday. Take off your panties, now.” he commands, giving you another slap on your ass.

While you’re hurrying to get rid of your underwear, he starts unbuckling his belt, opens his fly and takes out his cock. It’s long and hard, already leaking precum. You were in for a treat. He pulls a condom package out of his pocket and rolls the rubber over his length.

“Turn around and bend over” he said, you quickly obey and a moment later you feel one of his thick fingers parting your wet folds and entering you, while another finger rubs your aching clit. A needy whine breaks out of your mouth and you throw your head back in pleasure .“God, you’re already so wet for me, little one.” Chris groans, adding another finger.

You almost can’t take it anymore, feeling like you might go insane if he doesn’t fuck you right now.

“I need you in me, Sir, please” You’re begging now, totally beyond caring.

Chris removes his fingers, lines up his huge cock at your opening and starts slowly pushing in, inch by inch.He groans, grabbing your hips, and once he’s fully settled in your tight heat he starts a brutal, deep pace.

You let out a hiss as he stretches you and hold onto the desk, trying not fall over with the force of his powerful thrusts. The pleasure is overwhelming, his large cock filling you perfectly over and over again, a bruising grip on your hips, his deep voice groaning dirty things into your ear. You’re ability to form coherent sentences is long gone, only moans and short breaths are coming out of your mouth.

Behind you, Chris is breathing heavily as one of his hands reaches around you to rub your clit.

“Fuck, You feel so good baby, so fucking tight around my cock.” he swears as his thrusts are starting to become faster and more erratic.

His rubbing on your clit intensifies, and you can feel your climax approaching.

“Come for me baby, come on my cock.“ Chris leans forward, biting the tender the spot where your shoulder meets your neck.

Pleasure and pain surge through you as you hit your peak, Chris‘ name on your lips. You feel his body going stiff behind you, his grip on your hips tighening almost painfully as he finds his release with you.

For a while, the mix of both your ragged breaths is the only sound in the office, then Chris carefully pulls out, the sudden feeling of emptiness making you whimper.

Strong arms embrace you, and you hear a small chuckle as a kiss is being pressed to your neck.

But the gravity of what you’ve just done still hits you like a punch to the gut and you whirl around, eyes wide with shock, head still spinning from the intensity of your orgasm.

“Oh, oh no” you mutter to yourself, breathing heavily as you see your crumpled trousers and panties lying on the office floor along with several papers who fell from the desk during your activities. What did you do?

“Hey, hey, little one, calm down.” Chris says, sensing your anxiety right away. He cups your jaw and leans down to press a gentle kiss to your trembling lips. Your worry eases a bit as you kiss him back.

“How about you lie down on my couch and I go and get us snacks and something to drink. Maybe even some coffee?” he asks after pressing a final kiss to your head.

You manage a shaky nod and a small smile, looking up at Chris’ handsome face.

He flashes you a toothy grin, forehead still shining with a thin layer of sweat, his hair tousled.

He looks breathtaking.

“You’re staring again, Y/N.”

“I know.”

#chris cuomo #chris cuomo fanfiction #chris cuomo fic #chris cuomo x reader #cnnanchors #cnn anchors #i have too much time on my hands

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zeppelin-and-unicorns · 3 years

Note

15 and 18

15 - If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

Just answered that one here!

18 - Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Oh my God, I have so many!! Beware, this is going to be a very long answer. Click on the thingy to read more!

Last year, back when I first started writing fanfiction, I had a lot going on in my mind, and at one moment I had to choose which stories I would actually work on, and which ones I would have to drop it for now. There were five stories in total, and I dropped three of them.

Two of those five stories evolved and they became When The Levee Breaks and Map of the Problematique, the other three are still unnamed and undeveloped.

I'll give you the main summary of them, because why the hell not?

The first story is a pretty fluffy one, I've abandoned it because there are already a few stories like these in the fandom and because I got too invested writing my other stories. Also, a huge chunk of it is written in the first person, because I started writing it at the beginning of the last year, and I've learned that I don't really like writing in first person anymore... Writing WTLB is hard enough already lol.

This story would narrate the beginning of Jackie and Hyde's relationship while Donna and Kelso were still in California, but there are a few twists: Eric doesn't mope around in his room most of the time, and he develops a really nice friendship with Jackie (that friendship would turn into a small crush later), and Eric and Donna would not be endgame.

There's a lot going on at first, in this story, Hyde actually plans on "wooing" Jackie once he's sure she's over Kelso, they flirt a lot and he's aware that he's going to make a move on his best friend's ex. Jackie's also very interested in Hyde, but for a while, she thinks he'd never be interested in her.

Their flirting wouldn't last long though, I had planned on making them get together at the beginning of the story (I think it was in chapter five?), the rest of the story would narrate them hiding their relationship from their friends and how close they are getting to Eric and Fez.

I've planned on writing lots of sweet friendly moments between Jackie, Hyde, Eric, and Fez. In fact, there are quite a few scenes written out already, and in one of them they're all in a circle and it's the first time Eric realizes that Jackie's not as bitchy as he thought she was. Here's one of the circle scenes I've written:

"You know what?" Jackie announced, ignoring Fez's sobs and passing the joint to Hyde, thanking God that he was probably too high to notice how goosebumps rose all over her body when his fingers brushed against hers "I hope Michael gets syphilis from a random beach whore and goes blind."

"Odds are pretty good of that happening." Hyde nodded as he took another hit "Of him getting an STD, I'm not so sure about becoming blind, but I'm sure once he gets back to Wisconsin we can convince him to stare at the sun long enough for that to happen"

Eric snickered "Yeah... I hope Donna just... Never comes back, I hate her... Yeah..."

"No, you don't," Jackie said flatly to him "You'll probably marry her if she ever does come back."

Eric stared at Jackie for a few seconds before sighing dejectedly "... yeah, you're right..."

"But, hey, we can bash on Michael some more if you like, it's fun!"

"You're right, it is fun! " Eric nodded, smiling at the petite girl sitting next to him on the couch and wondering when did he start to actually enjoy her presence.

The whole google doc for this story has over 7k words of random dialogues and random moments I came up with. I'm not going to lie, it has potential, lots of it actually, but I don't have the time to work on it now.

The story would be overall a light read, it would've been M-rated because I did start to write a sex scene, but it would be overall something funny and cute. For example, one of my favorite moments is this one where Eric almost catches Hyde and Jackie:

"Oh my God…" Eric muttered in awe, glancing at the two very guilty-looking people sitting on the couch.

Hyde and Jackie exchanged a look, they were caught. Crap.

"Is this what I think it is?" Eric said

"Look, Eric…" Jackie started to explain, but stopped when she saw the huge grin forming on Eric's face. She looked at Hyde and apparently he was just as confused as she was.

"You're watching Star Wars!" Eric said in glee "You're geeks!"

"What?!" Hyde protested and looked at the TV, where he could clearly see Leia and Luke kissing on the bridge "We're not geeks, you're crazy"

"Steven, stop," Jackie said "Fine Eric, you caught us, we like Star Wars"

This story would end in a nice place, but... well, there would be a lot of changes.

Here's the thing, I was kind of really hating Kelso (and Donna too, a little bit) when I started writing this, so I chose to write something that might be a little weird for a few people. In this story, Donna and Kelso would have a fling in California, and Eric would catch them on the spot when he arrives to get Donna back.

It's not something Eric would be able to forgive. And even after a lot of talking, he wouldn't be able to get back together with Donna after seeing her with Kelso.

Coming back to Point Place, Eric would try to make a move on Jackie, he would kiss her for like, two seconds, and she would've pushed him away and blurted out that she's in love with Hyde. Hyde would arrive at the basement a few moments after that, and Eric would be completely freaking out. It's a funny scene lol.

Things would get messy for a while, but in the end, Jackie and Hyde would go public and have the happily ever after they deserve, Eric, Fez, Hyde, and Jackie would continue their friendship, Donna would move to California for good, and Kelso wouldn't hang out with them anymore.

There are a few stories that are somewhat similar to this one, like Summer Lovin' by leoasc, One Difference: Donna and Kelso Have a Fling by MistyMountainHop, OPERATION: REBOUND by ShanghaiLily, and there are probably a few more that I can't remember the names right now.

The second story is a heavy one, like, really heavy.

I got the idea of writing this story when I was watching a Grey’s Anatomy episode, so yeah, its a dramatic one lol.

The episode that inspired this story is the one where Richard is in between life and death, and Meredith is the one he chose as his next of kin. Which means that she’s the one the doctors report to, and she’s the one who decided how he was going to be treated. Meredith took some risky decisions and they’re literally the reason why Richard is alive.

I remember that when I saw this episode, I was also reading a fanfic... Being more specific, I was reading The Right Road Lost by zpplnchick, and an idea just popped into my mind... What if Jackie was the one with the memory loss? How would Hyde deal with that in a post s8 universe?

I know there are a few fics that deal with that subject, like Steven Who? by kezztip and Redemption Road by SkittlezLvr79, but believe me, my story would’ve been waaay different than these ones.

Here’s the main plot: Jackie and Hyde talk things out, and Hyde asks Jackie if she could ever take him back, promising her that he would never, ever give up on her again. She says no, because y’know, she’s a freaking self-respecting woman, but this talk would make her think, a lot, because she can see that he actually meant it every word, and she has never seen him this determined before.

As she was driving home, she would crash her car, and things would get pretty serious pretty quickly.

Her situation would be very critical, I planned on making Hyde suffer a lot in this, guys. I’m just downright cruel to him, because I believe that nothing would hurt him more than seeing the person he loves the most going through absolute hell.

Decisions would have to be made, and that’s when they find out that Jackie’s next of kin is no one other than Hyde. After her mother left her and her father went to prison, Jackie asked her father’s lawyer to provide her with a few papers that put Hyde in charge of her well-being if something ever happened to her. She forgot about it after they broke up, and well... She is going to be very thankful for that later.

Hyde’s shocked, but very pleased to find out that he’s responsible for her, especially since everyone seems to think that her death is inevitable and that they shouldn’t prolong her suffering.

After a very enlightening conversation with Mrs. Forman, Hyde decides that he’s not going to let anyone tell him what to do, and that he’s going to follow his gut.

The next few months would be complete hell, Jackie’s situation is very critical, she would go through a lot of complications and Hyde would’ve been a complete mess. He would watch quietly as Donna, Kelso and Fez stopped showing up to see Jackie, disgusted at how quickly they just gave up on her. He would listen as Donna rambled about how what he was doing to Jackie was torture, and that he must really hate her if he’s not willing to just let her go (which would end up causing a major fallout between Donna and Hyde), but he would never question his decisions. He just knew that he was doing the right thing, and no one but the Forman’s seemed to understand that.

Hyde showed up to see her at the hospital every single day for months. The whole hospital staff knew him as “the Sleeping Beauty’s prince”, and he hardly ever left Jackie’s side.

After a few months, she wakes up, and he’s right next to her when that happens. It’s honestly a pretty touching scene, he’s just so happy and so relieved to see her awake after everything she went through, and they have a beautiful moment.

Seriously, I cried hard when I wrote that.

They would both cry, share “I love yous” and a few kisses, and it would’ve been beautiful, but the magic’s killed when Hyde realizes that Jackie thinks that they’re in 1978. She doesn't remember the nurse, the “get off my boyfriend” incident, Chicago or Sam. The last thing she remembers is him driving her home after they emptied her family’s ski cabin.

Hyde is divided between telling her the truth and losing her, or not telling her and being with her again.

He would let her think things were okay between them for a couple of days, until Eric shoves some sense into his head and he comes clean about everything. After telling her everything that happened, he also tells her that he loves her and he wants to be with her, but that he completely understands if she never wants to see his face again.

It’s safe to say that Jackie’s absolutely crushed. This breaks her, but she had the Forman’s by her side to help her go through everything, and Hyde also never leaves her. Sure, he gives her some space, but he doesn’t stop checking up on her, and slowly, they begin to form a nice friendship.

He takes her to her physical therapy appointments, and her doctors appointments, he helps her in every possible way he can, and she falls in love with him all over again.

The story would end with her making a full recovery and giving them another chance.

I've abandoned this story for three reasons, reason number one being: I was at a point where I really disliked Donna, and her character is not a nice person at all in this. Now that I understand Donna's character better, I refuse to publish a story where she behaves the way she did in this one. I could've changed her behavior, but the whole point of the story is "Hyde is the only one who hasn't given up", and having Donna acting like herself (nice and supportive) would kind of kill part of the plot.

Reason number two is: There’s already too much drama in Map of the Problematique, working on this story along with WTLB and my other WIP’s would drive me nuts.

And the last reason is... I didn’t know if people would like reading a story like this. I was afraid that some people might think that all of this determination is extremely OOC for Hyde, and I can kind of see why they would think this way.

The third story would’ve been an angsty one, and I started writing it after I finished watching the first episode of season 6. You guys can probably already guess why I was inspired to write an angsty story after that episode...

Here’s the thing: I absolutely HATE the way Hyde treated Jackie in the first two episodes of season 6. I hate that he cheated on her and had the audacity to be offended that she didn’t take him back right away. I wanted to kick his ass for acting the way he did, it was truly disgusting of him and he did not deserve to be with her again after everything he’d done.

I do like that Kelso was the one that brought them back together, but the rest of that storyline is just... yuck. I truly hate it.

I wanted to fix that. I wanted to give Jackie a very girlboss moment, and I wanted to see Hyde groveling to get her back, so well... I came up with a story idea.

The story would be a short one, it would have 10 chapters, 15 if I got too inspired, and it would consist of Hyde groveling while Jackie didn’t give him the time of her day.

Sure, Jackie and Hyde would be endgame, because it’s me and I would never write a story without a happy ending, but Hyde would have to fight for it, a lot.

@snookstheallmighty is currently writing a story that is very similar to the one I was working on. It’s called “Friday I’ll Be Over You”, and it’s pretty great! You should totally check it out later! I’ve sent her a few parts of my story draft a while ago, and I gave her full permission to use it on her story!

I think this is pretty much it... I have plenty of story ideas and many, many google docs with random drafts and dialogues that popped up in my mind out of nowhere, but these are the ones I’ve fully abandoned and will probably never work on again.

#ask game #fanfic

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popolitiko · 4 years

Photo

How The New York Times is Visualizing the Smartphone Tracking Industry

By Erin Merkel | April 29, 2020

“I used to look at my phone like, ‘What a fun and convenient trick that I can get an alert when I walk near a pizza place.’ It’s not a fun trick. It’s a business, and you’re the commodity.” — Stuart A. Thompson, The New York Times

Editor’s note: Since this interview was originally published in February, the global coronavirus pandemic has shed further light on how location tracking data is collected and the potential risks of how it’s used. Google is releasing aggregated location data reports to show how people’s movement patterns are changing around the world, while privacy advocates are sounding the alarm about governments’ efforts to obtain more location data from telecom companies.

A phone application company you have never heard of before likely knows where you are right now. That information is being bought and sold right now. Those apps and their partners have joined a lucrative industry at the expense of the privacy of smartphone users. It’s an issue of national security, and it’s virtually unregulated.

The New York Times’ Privacy Project is directing attention to this issue. In Twelve Million Phones, One Dataset, Zero Privacy, Stuart A. Thompson and Charlie Warzel visualize phones as dots being tracked around the country, from the Pentagon and the White House to the streets of San Francisco.

Storybench spoke with Warzel, a writer-at-large for the Times’ Opinion section, and Thompson, the head of Opinion’s visual journalism department, about why they chose to create these visualizations and the challenges that arose in constructing this data-driven, yet very human, story.

The article opens up to a visualization of blinking dots on a map of different buildings. It looks like it should be in a spy film. Why did you decide to make this the first thing people see?

Stuart A. Thompson: So, the Times had approached this topic one year prior with a news piece and this is building on the foundation of that. We never really had a good sense of scale for how much data there is. The data that we had was of several cities and super dense and covered everything. And we wanted to give people that visceral reaction. It’s not one person or some strangers. It’s everything everywhere. And we had that idea really early on to do a zoom-out of a city and the idea was to start at one dot and keep going, and going, and going, and it would never end. I think that was the idea, to have an emotional connection to something you never get to see.

Charlie Warzel: It is really hard to wrap your mind around how much information is out there, how many phones, and how much is being sent. I think this is one of those stories that had a lot of the words before the visuals were on the page. As soon as I saw what Stuart had made, I was like: “We don’t even really need the words. The visuals tell the story better.”

Did you specifically ask to have these graphics rather than have a picture or video?

Thompson: The way that newsrooms used to be set up, and a lot of them still are, is you have reporters doing interviews and writing text and you have a bunch of graphics people making bar charts who sometimes do more visual stuff. They’re sort of just sitting in the corner of some dark closet in the newsroom (laughs). The Times for the past decade has been trying to marry those two things closer together and that’s the origin of the team that I run, which is the visual journalism team in Opinion.

Rather than making visuals like the window dressing on a nicely reported piece, let’s find the stories and tell the stories that you can’t tell without visuals or can’t tell nearly as well. Like you could probably write this story without any visuals and it would be a good story that people would read, but the impact really comes from seeing it all together. They’re not separate things.

A reporter might think of a headline while they’re writing and we might think of the visual that we want to lead the piece because that affects what is written. In the first text-only drafts of the piece, it had bubble points for that stat and little annotations around it so editors will know what we’re trying to do there. We show them that you have to imagine this idea with these images. Whether it is a video or it’s animated that it is for additional flair but it does pull you in a little bit more gradually.

Could you walk us through how you were introduced to this story and your research process?

Thompson: So the Privacy Project, which is a year-long look at privacy and technology, approached us with the data and they were worried about the implications. They thought it could use someone with a voice to argue for change. We went out to learn about an industry that’s pretty opaque and hard to understand because it’s totally invisible. When you’re on your phone, you can’t see what’s going on. A lot of the business deals are not announced publicly. The connections between different companies and what they do with the data … none of that stuff is that well exposed. It was a huge research undertaking and there was a lot of data work.

Warzel: This is one of those situations where the data led everything. It was the story, and a lot of the reporting was either to confirm things or get more contact for things in the data. This was sort of an interesting reporting process because a lot of the times you’re going and calling up people or going to visit people. We went to Pasadena for one story. It was an inversion of the general reporting process.

Usually you go to people and are like, “Please tell me this thing. I need to know information.” And we actually had all the information and we’re asking people to see it. It was sort of a weird mode. It was data driven in the sense that the data helped provide so much for those visuals, but it was also in the sense that it was giving us leads and anecdotes. The reporting was just trying to run that down and make sure it made sense or it was accurate.

Did you know at the start from looking at the data how you wanted to organize the story? Was it when you started to talk to people that it took form?

Warzel: Before we started talking to people we found in the data, we had the outline of the story. We made our outline based on our research of companies who promote assumptions. We had problems with that. One assumption was that the data is anonymous, and we felt pretty comfortable saying that it was not. [The companies say] it is really hard to keep this data anonymous and secure, and we obviously had the data so how could it be secure?

We had [the data on] Washington, so we knew that national security would be part of our series. It ended up being the second story of the seven. I think we had a pretty good sense of the parameters of it. That Pasadena story didn’t come until pretty late. Only a couple weeks before. We had stories in the main pieces about the people we had, but it seems like there was a little more to say when you isolate a region … The first stories were big high-level stories about business and the industry and the national security apparatus. The data is also a story of communities, and towns, and people living their lives, going to Best Buy and church. There was enough there that we could make a full story out of that. We wanted to zero-in on an area where there was a mix of different stories to tell.

Was there a situation where someone didn’t want anything to do with this story? How did you handle that?

Warzel: That was a major thing in this. It was actually another reason to go to Pasadena. Originally, we didn’t know how many stories it was going to be, but we identified a lot of people through this and wanted to do the due diligence of contacting them and just getting them to talk about the experience of being in this data set. It was people we found at political rallies, people who might have been in government, a whole slew of people who were relatively famous to those with no public profile. Not a lot of people wanted to talk.

A lot of people thought it was maybe like a scam. You’d think coming from a Times’ email address, the whole premise of it sounded kind of outrageous. Like, “We have reason to believe we’ve tracked all your movements. We work for The New York Times.” And a lot of people were like, “Is this an email scam?” Or people [believed they were being] phished. I think that’s part of the reason we zeroed in on a neighborhood and put ourselves to the ground and do the work of knocking on doors of people cold and had that awkward interaction of explaining.

There were people on the ground who didn’t want to talk. There were people in religious organizations or other community organizations who felt vulnerable and didn’t want to talk to the piece. When we were able to show certain people what we had, and communicate what the project was about and it had this advocacy about it, there were a lot more people who were interested.

You included the companies who use data collection, as well as their logos, in the piece. Is that a definitive choice you felt you needed to do?

Thompson: We talked about that quite a bit. I thought it was really important that companies are identified because, for one reason, is that they operate pretty much behind the scenes. They’re literally hidden in the apps you download. I’ve identified like 80 companies that were working around this. We had to feel comfortable with the ones that we include and make sure it was fair, because companies that work around the industry might not engage with what we are talking about in the story. [They] might have other priorities and might have a smaller part in the business, so we ended up plucking the ones we felt most comfortable with.

Warzel: I was a little more on the outside of that process until we got to this point of needing to talk about it, who we wanted, who needed to be in there, sort of talking to the companies and needing to vet them. That was maybe one of the most frustrating parts of the reporting because it really did highlight just how opaque the advertising industry is and the ways they manipulate language in order to shield themselves.

There were a number of companies that, when you contact them and tell them they’re going to be identified in a mobile data location space, they say no, we don’t do that…instead, they say they track some sort of customer journey path. They change the words around so they don’t fit into the category, but it’s effectively the same thing. It’s very difficult because it is so technological. It is so nuanced and varied. A normal consumer doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to that decision.

Because this process was so frustrating, especially with these companies saying what they did, were there any statements you were careful not to make?

Thompson: The other reason we wanted to identify apps is because when you see a bunch of names, they’re all these weird companies. It’s like, “Wait, these are the ones that have my locations?” It’s not like Google, where we understand that they have everything. It’s more like a startup that you don’t know about. We were careful around apps. It’s tough to talk about apps and companies without isolating one. You want to include everything. That’s what people want to know. When we publish this story it’s like, “Okay, what apps do I need to delete?” And it’s really hard to say. That’s part of the whole system. It’s hard to know what they’re doing.

I talked to Foursquare and brought the CEO a list of apps that were receiving locations and how they were disclosing that to people. He said they do get locations, but you know it’s like we can do it under this specific contact and we don’t use it. We keep it briefly and we throw it out … You have to be really careful reporting the industry because it is so complicated and the companies are so adept. The whole basis of their business is to be confusing to people. That’s part of it: the misdirection that goes on with privacy policies and disclosure screens. They control all the language and they try to make it as finely tuned as they can to get everything they want out of it. Overall, it’s a good idea to be careful about how we talk about companies and what they do and feel comfortable it can be understood totally.

Did that influence why it was published in the Opinion’s section?

Warzel: The sources came to the Opinions section because of the Privacy Project and the ongoing work we were doing in this space. Also, because there was a genuine worry about this information, a desire to advocate for change, and pressure lawmakers, tech companies, and the advertising industry to feel the need that there is something wrong here that needs to be addressed urgently. That is the type of work the Opinion section is well suited for.

Sometimes a newsroom is constrained by that lack of opinionated journalism: “You need to decide for yourself what do think about this.” But our piece didn’t do that. It said that we want you to know this is the argument. This is out of control, this is invasive, this needs to change. And in a couple of ways the final piece we publish in the series is an editorial by the editorial board at The New York Times that argues explicitly that lawmakers need to do something.

Americans didn’t sign up for this, and a federal privacy law is needed. That’s just something that a traditional newsroom is not going to be comfortable doing necessarily, and I think all the rigor of reporting, all of the vetting, all the careful use of language and responsibility… that’s the Times’ standard of reporting and fairness. Our ability to advocate as well was the real reason why they came to us to do it in Opinion.

Screenshot: The New York Times

In the Opinion section, you have the ability to advocate for change. What do you hope readers will take away from this article, the project and the information you’re putting out?

Thompson: I hope they’re afraid. Like, I’m afraid (laughs). Maybe change some of their behavior, but that’s not gonna do very much for the world. I think some of this stuff is a slow build, you know? Congress is pretty distracted right now with some other important matters. I don’t think this story is triggering a new law next week, but what I hope is that it pushes the conversation forward on privacy, how important it is, how far companies have gone in a system where privacy is unshackled, and they can do what they want.

You can argue for banning all this stuff, but for people who are like, “I don’t really care. I have nothing to hide”… I think you can have nothing to hide and also have some limits on what these companies can do: how long they can keep it for, how granular it can be — in some circumstances they can get you down to a few feet of your location — and how often they can do it.

My ultimate hope is that people be concerned. Like Cambridge Analytica changes the view of Facebook, this can change the view of this area of how people look at their phone. I used to look at my phone like, “What a fun and convenient trick that I can get an alert when I walk near a pizza place.” That was so innocent a couple of years ago, and I hope that people change their minds after they read this, that is not an innocent thing anymore. It’s not a fun trick. It’s a business, and you’re the commodity.

Warzel: On my end, I hope that people for the first time, at the scale we are able to show it, understand what they are opting into. The onus is not on the consumer to fix this and police themselves. These companies need to be the ones that change. Lawmakers need to be the ones that put that pressure on them, but the service that I’m most happy to provide people is an understanding of what’s going on on their devices without their knowledge. I think in general, it’s so helpful to know what you’re up against.

I look at everything from Cambridge Analytica onward — and I think the Privacy Project is a part of this — as a greater reckoning with our devices and our privacy and the safety of our information. I think that’s a slow building process and one of the biggest tools in that fight is knowing what it is you’re up against. That’s why I’m so glad to see the way Stuart and his team were able to present this, because I think it gives people that understanding to know what they’re participating in.

This article first appeared in Storybench and is reproduced here with permission.

Erin Merkel studies journalism at Northeastern University. Storybench was founded in 2014 at Northeastern University’s Media Innovation graduate program in the School of Journalism as a “cookbook for digital storytelling.”

https://gijn.org/2020/04/29/how-the-new-york-times-is-visualizing-the-smartphone-tracking-industry/

#Smartphone Tracking

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ubemango · 5 years

Text

commission 4: slow burn/best friends/college au w/ jin

(+or: we’re best friends and you’re literally So Great and i suck at knowing what i want but anyway i’m starting to think i like you ??????? au)

note 1: For my very very sweet and understanding friend @yeuj who helped me out when I needed it most .... I hope you enjoy 🥺🥺💕!!!!!! And thank you to Micah + Clove for helping me with my questions—thank you for your thoughtfulness, insight, and love!!!!! 🌷🌷🌷

note 2: I tried to make ramen-making as unboring as possible but it really is just....water and spice. If you’re confused about eating ramen at convenience stores please search that up on Youtube, I’ve exhausted my link resource skills (except for when I want you to listen to songs.) Also, the songs I mention are titanic/the end by cehryl and Subside by Eloise. I actually listened to Sweet Night on repeat while writing this so if u wanna listen to that... ;_;

note 3: everything about this story is in medias res. I realized I had no proper beginning or conclusion and I didn’t wanna change the flow of the story by concretely adding one or the other... so if the story feels incomplete/fragmented then please understand that this was a conscious and intentional decision done on my part :,) It’s slow burn!!!! I Love you ha ha!!

(i)

The library is open twenty four hours. The convenience store in the student centre is not.

“Please use your car,” you assert.

Seokjin huffs. “Then pay for my gas.”

It’s an empty threat. He’s got no business driving hard bargains when he has capital in the form of a rich CEO dad. He ignores your glaring, calmly closing his laptop, shoving it into his bag. Closing up shop after a derivative crisis you’d called him up for because he lives on campus, plus he never sleeps early. You appreciate that he gives into you so easily.

“Fine.”

So you go, searching for a convenience store that has those instant noodles you suddenly came up with a craving for this late at night. Seokjin’s used to it by now. You get things done when you want to, even if it means making a home of the pillowy chairs in the library you’d claimed for studying purposes.

The mathematical theory of chaos. You don’t want to think about it, and you click your seatbelt with a yell, throw your bag in the backseat with as much strength your anger allows for. “I hate school!”

“Please don’t scream in the car.”

“I hate it!”

Seokjin slots the key in. “Can you look up where the convenience store is?”

He tosses you his phone to unlock. You jab at the screen with more grumbling and colourful cursing, pulling up whatever Google Maps says is the nearest store open.

“Plug in the AUX cord,” Seokjin urges next. He merges into traffic, which is really only one car and the late night bus. A quiet night for your suffering.

“Can I play my—“

“Nope.” You sneer. Tapping open his playlists, you pass under orange lamp post after orange lamp post and scroll in silence before Seokjin groans. “I made a new playlist, pick that one.”

“What’s it called?”

You can see that he’s stiffened up. You don’t comment. “The one with the three heart emojis.”

Simple enough. You don’t care to sift through the songs, and the first one plays with one more indulgent tap of the screen.

Why don’t you tell her? I think you should. You know how you’re feeling, you can’t fight the truth…

Google interrupts the soft voice with the indication of the next right. Seokjin eases on the gas pedal. You watch him nod his head to the softness of the stereo. “I can’t pay for your gas.”

“I know you can’t.”

“I can pay for your ramen,” you suggest. Seokjin makes a quiet noise, like he’s amused by your generosity, or maybe he just thinks you’re dumb. You think it’s the latter.

“I don’t want you to pay for my ramen.”

“Then what do you want?”

The lamp post light striking Seokjin’s face gives way to the harsh red of the stoplight. In the stillness, he sends you a hard look. It makes you feel weirdly vulnerable, like he’s stripped you bare.

To make things worse, Seokjin says:

“Nothing you don’t want to give me.”

He doesn’t heed your confusion because he presses on the gas, looks straight ahead. You do too, and you try not to contemplate the cool brevity of his attention you suddenly want back. You push your uncertainty aside.

(He has a handsome face, you think.)

Seokjin interrupts, “So why’d you wait till now to study?”

“You know me.” Procrastination. The complete and utter mistake of underestimating the allotted time needed to get a successful grasp of concepts for your midterm. In not so convoluted terms, this class sucks ass.

“Yeah but that was—a lot of notes.”

It was. You probably pushed five weeks of material in the span of three hours. You can feel the very tips of your nervous system frying up as you pass through gas station-lit intersections. But there’s a real answer to his question, and you have the intense need to curl in on yourself in this leather seat.

“Well I would have started yesterday, but I was busy,” you counter.

“With what?”

“So you know Hyukjae from Psych?”

Seokjin pauses to listen to Google’s instructions, and immediately makes a left onto another main intersection. “Sure.”

“We went out yesterday,” you admit.

He hums a tight sound, tapping on the wheel. “Hm. How’d it go?”

It wasn’t bad. You shared butter tarts and laughed at his anecdotes and Hyukjae-from-Psych paid for your Uber home. He gave you a very weak hug before you slipped into the car. It was in that seat you’d decided you wouldn’t be sending him an I had fun! text that night.

“It was okay. Like, nice to me and stuff. But nothing…”

“…Worth revisiting.”

“Sure,” you mimic, and you wonder why he’s right.

“The guy’s okay,” he says. Almost like it’s with relief. “It’s—not to sound rude, but. Uh. I think it’s, uh—good. That you weren’t… interested.”

You think he’s gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. “Why?”

“Can’t trust guys with bad handshakes.” Seokjin chances a glance at you, and laughs at the confused scrunch of your eyebrows. “I met him during that networking conference in third year. Limp-wristed me. Like a chump.”

“Ew.” You can’t say he’s wrong. That hug Hyukjae gave you really was weak. The dude has noodles for arms. “But yeah, I guess you’re right. Wasn’t really my type.”

“Hm,” is all Seokjin comes up with. You watch him pass right through the turn Google tells him to take. “Oh shit. Sorry. I’m just. Thinking. About… limp… men.”

You snort. “What?”

“Like a man. A limp man. Hyukjae. Not me,” he clarifies fast—proudly— “just. Anyway! Back to you saying what your type was.”

“I wasn’t,” you accuse.

“Yeah well now I’m asking because I don’t wanna think about limp men. Your type, please.”

He sounds weirdly inquisitive. Demanding, almost. You chalk it up to the near-delirium of being awake past 1AM.

“I—don’t know,” you start. Somehow you feel like you’re messing something up. “He was kind, I like… kind. And soft. Sweet. You know Kim Taehyung? From Neuro? Like, almost big shoulders but not really. I like big shoulders. Yeah. Guys like Kim Taehyung-ish.”

Seokjin just hums again. There’s another song playing, and you don’t know how many you’ve rotated through in this playlist. You didn’t think it’d take this long to get to the store.

Google says it’s just two minutes away now. Seokjin says, “Cool,” and then sings along to the stereo.

You got me losing sleep over you… I usually sit still but now I can’t help but move… When I see you, I don’t know what to do…

(ii)

“Spicy or not spicy?”

“Whatever keeps my stomach lining intact,” Seokjin says.

You don’t say anything more and grab two of whatever ramen packaging isn’t scarily red. The convenience store is void of any customers, and the cashier rings you up with a very sour face for interrupting the show he’s got playing on his phone. His face shrivels up even more because all you can pay with is coins. Seokjin laughs behind you when you apologize for clattering the dimes too harshly on the counter.

“Enjoy,” the cashier announces, and he doesn’t mean it one bit.

The hot water machine at the back is a very intimidating thing next to the tiny display of cookies. Too many buttons and knobs you don’t understand, so Seokjin takes on the chivalric role and prepares everything for you. He rips the plastic open with gentle hands. Dumps the powder with too much conviction.

You both watch the water stream hot into the noodles. “Do you like macadamia nuts in your cookies?”

“I guess,” you say.

“Wanna split a cookie?” He hands you chopsticks to stir the ramen with, gestures at the cookie display with a jut of his chin.

“Are you paying?”

“Can you imagine if I made you pay after I asked to split,” Seokjin spits at you. “Yes I’m paying.”

“Then I want chocolate chip.”

He freezes, then jabs smartly at his noodles for a tense ten seconds.

“You make me mad,” he finally answers. “Should we eat in the car?”

“The bowl is too hot to hold.”

The counter at the window it is. You’re sad that you didn’t buy pickled radish, but your coin purse has weeped all its coinage out. Seokjin leaves you as Noodle Guard, going off to pay for that bonus cookie with a crumpled five. In the next second you contemplate the evaporation of ramen soup, the cookie is duly dumped right next to you, and Seokjin takes a huge bite of what still appears to be extremely hot noodles.

He promptly chokes, and makes sputtering noises.

“Holy shit,” Seokjin cries.

You take a much, much slower bite. “You’ll be fine.”

“I thought I could be cool for you,” he cries some more.

“You don’t need to be cool for me. Who eats ramen in a cool way?”

Seokjin nods his approval, that tear of theatrics sliding down his cheekbone. He eats carefully. A noisy car roils on outside, and passes quickly outside your periphery.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you remember to say.

“I love standing at counters and eating things hot,” Seokjin retorts. He dodges the fist you aim at his abdomen with swift ease. “It’s no problem.”

“I—“ You don’t really know why but you need to talk. “You know—you’re really, um, kind.”

Foolery. Absolute foolery that sentence was, and the cashier probably heard that foolery, and Seokjin definitely heard that absolute foolery, and he’s laughing. Like really laughing, caught with the noodles dangling from in-between his teeth. That’s all you had to say? The guy drove you out to get cup noodles out of his own volition. That’s kindness maxed out, and he deserves better than you fumbling between your teeth. Your nerves have fried up so bad, you guess.

Seokjin’s giggles dwindle down. “Thanks,” he says, smiling small.

You blame the heat of your cheeks from the heat of your soup.

Neither of you are desperate to get to that last quarter of noodles to broth ratio. The knots of your shoulders loosen with the sound of your slurping combined, and silently you are reminded of Seokjin’s warmth, standing so close to you.

The easiest path to a nice ending involves a happy belly and Seokjin driving you home with nothing more than a goodbye and a thank-you as you slam the car door shut. This is not unknown to you, because you and Hyukjae-from-Psych took that easy path yesterday.

You just don’t do this often, contemplating all the routes of romance. When is it appropriate to laugh at a joke, to wipe your mouth on the napkin? To smile and peel at your heart and grant that person access to all your inner workings? You belatedly notice that Seokjin did not bring napkins.

(The moment in the car—nothing you don’t want to give me—you want to laugh at his jokes, and smile, peel and peel and peel at your heart, but slowly. Slowly, you put your chopsticks down.)

How funny it is to come to very sound conclusions within a split second, because all you know is that it feels good, being with him like this.

Seokjin, in your quiet realization, takes it upon himself to decide the cookie-eating rights.

“Want the first bite?” He asks, propping the chopsticks horizontally on his bowl.

You nod. Desperately you try not to look at him because you might make more realizations, and you don’t think you’re ready for any more unleashed and unknown emotions. “Please.”

He gives it to you. The right side decidedly has more chocolate chips, and it’s a very nice explosion on your tongue. So nice you groan into it. “Oh that’s really good.”

He snatches the cookie away before you can take another bite. “I get bigger bites because I paid for it.”

“That—? Uh, that’s not how sharing works.”

“Yes it does,” Seokjin argues. But he just takes as normal a bite as ever. You can’t say you don’t focus on his mouth for too long, though—

—And you immediately seize up at the thought. Horrified, you shriek: “Actually just—have the rest of it!”

He looks alarmed. “O…kay?”

“You’ve got a nice mouth,” you blurt out next.

An absolutely awful feeling settles heavy in your stomach. Because almost immediately you realize that this is a kind and soft boy with nice anecdotes that have yet to be uncovered this night (he likes telling you stories) and he’s got wider shoulders than Kim Taehyung and you’re not sharing butter tarts but you’re sharing a cookie with him.

Another realization: does Seokjin have limp arms?

He puts the cookie down. (His arm looks very strong, doing that.) “I—thanks?”

“I think I’m losing my mind,” you note.

He watches you slump over the counter. Purposefully burying your face in your elbows to muffle your betraying mouth. “It’s late,” is all he says.

“Did that make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all.” You don’t think you’re breathing. Your lungs have evaporated, like those steamy ramen noodles you just ate. Seokjin probably notices you’ve stopped moving, so he says, “Really.”

“Okay.”

“Did it—did it make you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all,” you say.

“Cool. Do you wanna go—“

You stand up straight, grab all your garbage before he finishes. You don’t look at him. “Yep, yep, please.”

(iii)

He puts the key in the ignition, and doesn’t budge.

“Somehow I feel like you wanna say something else,” Seokjin says.

You curl your hands into fists. “It’s late.”

“I’m aware.”

“I’m—I’m sorry.” You are acutely aware of how garbled you must sound. It’s starting to get on your nerves, how flimsy you’re being. “I’m not… thinking.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re being pretty articulate for someone with an empty brain.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Seokjin sighs.

The seat squeaks where you tense up. “I don’t want to think about your mouth.”

“Do you wanna know what I think?” You nod. Jesus. You’ll just let him do the talking from now on because your tongue can’t be trusted this early in delirium, late in the hour. “I—I…”

Seokjin struggles some more, then deflates. He starts laughing.

“I… don’t drive just anyone out to convenience stores at two in the morning for ramen. You have to know that.” He clears his throat. His eyes are shiny with the harsh glare of neon signs. “I guess I just—wanna know… what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking…” Your lips part. Searching for words feels like a physical thing—your stomach is swimming with what feels like a billion thoughts but nothing comes up for air. “I’m thinking I—don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Seokjin turns to look at you. “I won’t make fun,” he whispers.

“I think. I think, you look—um—really… Good. Um. R-Really… good, right now.”

“Thanks.” He looks up like he wants to say something but his eyes harden where he gazes, locking in on the dust motes of the windshield. Your lungs swell small in the quietude. “I think you really look good, too.”

If baser compliments already have you burning then you don’t know what you’d do if he tried anything more romantically complex. Some people are meant for loud love stories and grand gestures and you—all you can do is think too much and you want to say more but Seokjin understands. He understands your silence, your ineptitude.

In a fit of controlled passion, you reach over the console, grasping at his knuckles till he flips his palm right into yours.

“Feels… ”

You wait for something to come to mind. A phrase, a proper thought to give utterance to, all the failures and successes of the night. Faithfully, nothing comes.

It just feels.

And Seokjin seems to agree. He holds tight between the grooves of your fingers.

“You’re very pretty and it hurts,” he says, and he doesn’t try to meet your gaze, and one feeling comes resolute: it feels right.

#bts scenarios #seokjin scenarios #jin scenarios #bts #jin #seokjin #ubemango fic #f: commissions

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new-sandrafilter · 5 years

Link

- full speech :

I’m here to give the award for Best Original Screenplay to the Safdie brothers and Ronnie Bronstein. It was challenging for me to write these remarks, not only because of the incredible and intimidating talent in this room tonight, but because what the Safdies do for me as filmmakers is so revolutionary, it’s hard to limit the remarks to just the screenplay. Also, because I’m a dumb 24-year-old actor, I’ve never written anything. I stand on a mark, I say what people tell me to say.

I don’t know what insight I have about screenwriting, but here’s my go. Trying to describe their approach to writing, it’s to know exactly what they want in a pre-production process going into filming, and then on the day, finding those jewels and gems in the rough of collaboration and the day to day adrenaline of filmmaking. A frenetic stylistic approach to filmmaking that can be interpreted as improvisational and unplanned, but make no mistake, with the Safdies and with Ronnie, it’s not. This task is made easier when the actors you’re working with are of the caliber of Adam Sandler, Lakeith Stanfield, and Keith Richard Williams. That’s not Keith Richards, that’s Keith Richard Williams. If you’ve never heard of him, that’s because the Safdies literally found him on the street in New York and cast him, like half of the characters in their movies, which sucks for actors like myself with résumés.

Their 2017 film Good Time was a straight shot about a bank robbery gone wrong, and a deranged young man’s relentless and untiring attempt to free his brother from custody. The movie follows Robert Pattinson’s descent into moral-less madness. If Good Time was a shot of tequila, then Uncut Gems plays like cocaine and mushrooms with a little sprinkle of Alka-Seltzer on top. Adam Sandler gives a truly awe-inspiring performance. It’s like Adam Sandler watched Punch-Drunk Love and was like ‘I’m going to do exactly that again, except the exact opposite.’ And Josh and Benny and Ronnie created a tornado of stress, swag, fucked-up intrigue and unapologetic, raw, truthful filmmaking. These are movies people my age can actually not get bored as fuck watching.

Let me end on this anecdote, and I apologize for personalizing it. About a month ago I texted the guy I look up the most to in the business, inviting him to a premiere. He said he couldn’t come, but he invited me to a dinner with Martin Scorsese that would be happening 30 minutes later that night. I was literally on the toilet when I got that text. So I did Google Maps check, I was uptown within 30 minutes. I hope not to embarrass you if you’re here tonight, but at the dinner I was shocked by Mr. Scorsese’s self-depreciation, his razor sharp wit, and his good humor. I was the young guy at the table but I was having trouble keeping up with the pace of conversation and the sophistication of movies being referenced.

I made a joke about how if The Irishman was successful, I’d never work again, because from now on I’d be auditioning against James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Charlie Chaplin. He very calmly and humbly said it was now time for a new generation of filmmakers to take over. He pointed out, for example, the Safdie brothers. I didn’t know in that moment, but he actually executive produced Uncut Gems. The comparisons are obvious: They’re both truly New York filmmakers in their blood, they both explore the psyche of devilish and morally ambiguous protagonists. In many ways, Adam Sandler Howard Ratner parallels Ray Liotta’s strung out Henry Hill in Goodfellas. This is high praise. I know it. Who am I to dole it out? And yet this is no longer the golden age of cinema. It’s no one’s fault — except maybe Ronald Reagan, no just kidding.

It seems every expression of art has its great moment in time. And yet this is why we need the Safdie brothers right now. This is why we need Barry Jenkins, and Greta Gerwig, and Mati Diop, and Ari Aster, Lulu Wang — not to reignite the golden age party that is definitively over. The world is on fire as we speak. [We need them] to make the art that is truthful to the times and a true mirror of our times. And, in the Safdies’ case, really unapologetic too. Maybe it won’t be as big of a party, but it will be unique as fuck.

#timothee chalamet #uncut gems #timmy #nbrawards

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fundielicious-simblr · 4 years

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wips!

Hey y’all, author here (still feels weird calling myself that ngl) I was inspired by @meetthefundies post about pose making from a while back and decided I’d take the dive and finally get into cc making for the sims 4. It’s always something that I’d thought about, and with corona basically shutting everything down I’ve had ample time to try and learn how to do things. The whole of last month was basically a bunch of trial and error, YouTube watching, and Tumblr scrolling (coupled with my parents asking why I have pictures of random white people saved onto my google drive almost every other night 😂💀)

In the middle of august my dad caught corona, and so the government isolated my whole family and I in the house (he’s all better now thankfully) for 2 weeks, meaning I had 14 uninterrupted days of just coming up with different designs and trying to make things work. So this post is to basically just put out there what I’ve been working on, a few have made it into my game to be play tested, but so far only one has actually left CAS 😂 I know these are definitely major works in progress, but my anxiety means that I’d keep redoing things over and over again in an attempt at perfection while the rational side of me tells me that everyone has a starting point - this one is just mine. Anyway, I’m rambling (as usual), so let me just post the damn picture so I can go back to actually working on these pieces 😂😂

I’ll start with the casual clothes,

This is what I’m working on right now, ironically it’s the easiest thing I’ve done so far. This is essentially one of those ‘Snoga’ sports skirt things that fundies wear, this is the second round because the first had annoying clipping that meant I had to go in and change the design. If this one turns out fine enough then I will make different skirt/legging length combinations, but for now I just need this to be usable enough in game to warrant making different styles.

Sleeveless frumper dress thing (I’ll sit down and come up with names for these later 😂)

This was inspired by Anna Marie Maxwell and her #fabulous frumpers as well as the frumpers the Maxwells used to wear in the 2000s, I stalked the Maxwell blog right back to the beginning and just started saving pictures 💀 This is so far the only thing that’s made it into an actual game save, and you’ll be seeing a sim or two wearing this in different swatches in around a month since my queue is now below one month long. This dress is probably between the 8th and 10th attempt at making a basic frumper as this is what I started trying to make as I was trying to learn everything I could about making cc.

Basic short sleeved cheap looking dress (like I said, official names will come later 😂)

This your basic average amazon dress that fundies love ( a la bates sisters boutique style) I’m at that point where my instagram explore page thinks I’m a 14 year old Apostolic girl or a baptist mother of 8 looking to change my style, so I have a wealth of inspiration to choose from 😂 This is something I made and forgot about because I got excited about the exercise skirt almost working in game, meaning that this hasn't even made it into blender yet.

Now we can move onto the formal stuff:

Ruffle mother of the bride/groom dress

This is my attempt on that blue ruffle dress that Kelly Jo Bates wore to Erin and Zach’s weddings. I initially tried to make it exactly like the dress she wore, but then I realised I was falling into the tendency of making things hard on myself unnecessarily 😂 This has made its way into CAS but there was some awkward clipping around the arms which I need to fix in blender, and will fix the textures before I can try and test it again.

Fishscale type dress

Yup, you guessed it, this is my take on that dress. This made it into blender, but seeing the uv_0 layout made me go “eek” and distract myself with something else 💀 I’m probably going to go in and change the design, take some creative license and change the ‘fishscales’ around because there's only so much space in the uv map.

Wedding Dress 1 aka the ‘Anna Marie’

I’ve highkey been calling this one the ‘Anna Marie’ in my folders because this wedding dress is directly inspired by hers (fyi: this link does take you directly to the Maxwell family blog, that web archive website is banned where I live and I’m not sure how to upload an archived link with my vpn on cause sometimes my laptop starts moving mad) This dress is one step away from being tested in game, and was so far the easiest dress to ‘design’ because there's literally nothing on it. I have been watching some more advanced texturing tutorials and want to try and make this look a bit better than it came out in my initial texturing attempts before I bring it I game to test.

Wedding Dress 2 aka the ‘Elissa’

This dress was inspired by Elissa Maxwell’s wedding dress, there's not many close up details of her dress so at some point I just got creative and probably the only thing I can really lend to her dress is the gathering on the side. The bolero came in as an idea after I had attempted doing these cute sleeves but was defeated after a while, so I changed things up so as not to frustrate myself 😂 This dress also has a bit more texturing needed before I can attempt to see how it looks in CAS, but I think I'll just see what happens with this one.

Wedding Dress 3 aka the EBP

In my head this dress was meant to resemble what Erin Bates Paine wore to her wedding, as in, a dress that is fine and would be considered modest (albeit a bit dated) but is chopped and skewed to make it EVEN MORE modest. The kind of changes that are obvious so the whole world knows you’re extra special and extra modest. This dress was an experiment as I played around and attempted to construct a corset back for this dress and the ruched tacked on sleeves, which turned out alright but it needs a bit of tweaking here and there, as well as an overhaul of the initial texture I'd tried out for this dress. In the notes app on my phone the initial look I was going for with this dress was “EBP overly frilly disaster” because that’s what I thought her wedding dress was like, but when I found pictures I decided I’d save the overly frilly disaster for when I was slightly better at the whole cc making thing.

Anyway, this is what I’ve got for now, I’ve got a swim dress thing next on my list which might be slightly easier to bring from start to finish? Not sure, at this point its hit and miss with how the weights transfer which affects the end result. I do have to say, seeing all these unfinished things laid out has sort of reinvigorated me to try and finish what I’ve already started before making something else, especially since a lot of them just require me to play around with the texture.

#wow this was a lot #but also fun to do #sims4cc #lets hope I can get more of these finished so I can model it in game and have nice pictures #ive scrolled my way through so many google pages #literally never reached page 4 on google before until I started learning how to make cc

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lovelybrittxo · 4 years

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where do I even start?

I’m literally only writing this for myself since typing a whole novel out on the computer is way easier than writing this in a physical journal which is what I normally do. I come to Tumblr though when I have way too much to say and don't know how to say it. I just need to get it off my chest before I blow up. so here it goes...

shall we start at the beginning? I grew up in a decently religious household. my mom, sister and I went to church almost every Sunday with all our aunts and uncles. don't get me wrong, I still believe in God and whatnot and I wouldn't change my upbringing in the church for anything. but it may have suppressed my views on the world. something my aunt said to me a few years ago has stuck to brain ever since and I can't seem to shake it. she told me that she actually believes that being gay is a sin and that you can love the sinner but not the sin. so like, she believes if you're gay, you can be gay but don't act upon it/the sin. she believes, for example, that being trans is a mental illness. like, I just can't wrap my head around that. and honestly, she spoke with so much conviction and “sense” that she actually had me fooled to think the same way for a hot second. and then to learn that my other “cool” aunt also believes this... kinda sad. both of those aunts have literally talked down upon family (and our family is very tight knit) and people they love... what would they do if they ever found out about me?

ive felt a lot of feelings ever since I was young. mostly towards males... but also towards females. I just thought the female part was me wanting to be like them or be their friend and just have them like me and accept me as a chill person to be around. but fast forward to a couple years ago. I was bombarded (in a good way) by social media flaunting (in a good way lol) different sexualities and things. its hard to describe but that “world” was just becoming more prominent to me I guess.

I started to try and put my religious upbringing in the background so I could focus on trying to figure out who I really was. ive been doing this for at least a couple years now. and although im still trying to really figure it out, right now half way through 2020, I think im getting closer to an answer. and guess what has helped me the most? tiktok lmao! no but for real, the internet is an amazing place for discovery in any form. after I started to get into real communities online (like kpop and penpaling) i’ve never felt more connected to the internet and it allowed me to try and find real personal help... if that makes any sense. i’ve just tried to put myself out there and not just google my feelings but piece together a map from asking real people over the Internet here and there to try and figure out who I am.

sometime last year (or maybe earlier) I found a YouTube video of a popular creator retelling her coming out story. I just randomly commented on the video about how I had been feeling, not to get a reply but just to comment. but then I actually got a real reply (not from the creator but still a nice person). they said something along the lines of me basically being bicurious. I had never in my life heard of such a word and I had thought that this person was just making it up. one google search later I found out it was a real thing. although at the time of first looking it up I was still very confused about the word... still kinda am? lol. however, just a couple weeks ago I had seen a post somewhere (an ad I think selling pride flags) saying there was an official bicurious flag. I was in shock. I thought it was a scam, but its not, it’s real (I just don't think it’s talked about very often cause it doesn't seem like a solid sexuality that you can claim your entire life). but anyway.

now what i’m gonna say next I don't want to come off in the wrong way (you nonexistent person reading this lol), but I feel like dating a trans person brought me into that “world” a bit more. like, i had literally never met anyone who was trans before him or anyone who was gay or used a they/them pronoun... never. but in his world, all of that was common and normal. and this is where I don't want to come off wrongly... I don't wanna make it seem like because I dated a trans person i’m qualified to be included in the LGBT community now or to talk about LGBT stuff or whatever. I just think because I dated him, it opened up my shallow world a bit. especially because he’s open about it (on a side note I always loved looking at his huge trans flag above his bed. that was the first flag I had really ever memorized because of him. besides the rainbow one obviously lol). like, his best friend uses they/them pronouns, and although i’ve always been aware of that, i’ve only ever seen things about it through YouTube videos and whatnot. I had never had to actually use those pronouns for anyone I knew in real life until I met his best friend. like, everything I knew about that “world” had only been through online researching/consuming. i’d never experienced it in real life before.

I remember one night we talked about it a little. I knew he was bisexual and so I asked him if he’d ever dated a guy. he asked me if I would ever date a girl and i just said that I had always thought about it and that my tinder profile was set to find both genders. then we talked about pride since it was at the beginning of quarantine and we didn't know if parades were still gonna happen or not yet. he said I could always go as an ally because I told him I felt ashamed and like I shouldn't be allowed to attend a pride parade. (of course he reassured me I can go and he wasn't shocked about me liking both genders at all...he just said ‘nice’ lol)

I still have a little inkling in the back of my mind that I still shouldn't be able to attend though. honestly because I don't know what I would be attending as. I feel like an imposter. I don't want people thinking that im doing all this for attention or just because I dated one person in the LGBT community. i’ve been struggling with this for so long... but it just so happens that now at 27 years old im coming to terms with who I am. I just feel like because I didn't figure it out earlier that I’m not “worthy” of being included. I feel like such an outsider because no one’s “invited” me in yet lol because im still trying to figure it out.

and on the same note, I don't feel like i’m worthy because I still really don't have a solid answer. at the moment I just use bicurious because ive never dated a girl before. the trans guy ive been talking about has been the only person i’ve ever been romantically involved with. im serious. I made it 26 years without being with anyone in any type of way. I feel like I don't have the right to call myself bisexual. however, I feel a tiny bit more confident in using that label maybe after I do end up dating a girl in the future and not feel guilty about using it because that same guy calls himself bisexual but told me right out one day that he’s way more attracted to girls than guys and im in the same situation but opposite. the only difference at this point in time is that he’s dated both and I haven't. but thennnn on the other hand, do I even need to label myself at all right now??

even if I did wanna come out, I don't wanna do it until I really have a solid answer about my identity. i just feel like such a fraud or something because im trying to figure it out so late. and like, im going so over the top with my support this year because I feel like I should fit in and maybe im trying too hard? again, I just don't want people thinking its because I dated one trans guy and all of a sudden im huge into the LGBT community. it’s not like that. all of this is just helping me bring out my true self. ugh this is the part where it gets confusing to put into words. i’m aware and I have pure intentions. im just trying to figure out myself after a long time of trying to figure out myself lol

some days the research is overwhelming. there's so many facts and opinions and different people’s stories and labels. as crazy as it sounds I just want someone who’s been gay their whole life to come up and tell me “yup, your bisexual no doubt” lol or something like that. I guess I just want to be validated in my exploration. and i’ve seen random tiktok comments saying stuff like that, that validates me, but the difference is that their comments aren’t directed specifically to me. they don't know me personally. it’s hard to have a random social media comment resonate with me. honestly, and this may sound selfish and not right, but when I was talking to the guy I was seeing, I almost wish he just told me straight out what I was that day. but instead he said I could go to Pride as an ally. and that was probably just him being respectful and not forcing me to be anything, but it almost had the opposite effect on me. by saying I was an ally it felt like he was giving me that permanent label even after telling him I like guys and girls.... ya know?

something recently happened to me that really stuck with me and I was so happy. I have a penpal who is very southern Texas raised religious. she knows the Bible better than I do. I had posted a Pride doodle I did on my Instagram at the beginning of this month and she was the only one who personally responded with an encouraging and supportive dm. if she can support whole heartedly the LGBT community and still love God, then why can't I?? and that's when I trulyyyy knew that I was right and my aunt’s were wrong and I wasn't going insane lol

I wanted to buy a bicurious or pride flag recently. but then was torn when I saw the ally flag (which I also didn't know existed until recently) and the bisexual flag. I know they're just flags but it feels so solid?? like you buy one when you know what you are.... and I don't yet. so I ended up not buying one at all :/

again, there was no purpose to this post because I know no one is going to read it but I just had to type it out into the world so I didn't have to bottle it up anymore.

#lgbt #pride #pride 2020 #lgbt community #bisexual #bi curious #trans #transgender #questioning #sexuality #coming out #me #personal

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fairyjeff · 5 years

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Lost In The Woods || Lydia, Remmy, Dewey, Mercy, Jeff

Not all who wander are lost.... Except they’re seriously lost. Super fucking lost.

@inspirationdivine, @whatsin-yourhead, @deweythedew, @cryxmercy

Jeff was certain he’d gone this way before. All he wanted to do was toss his fucking coin in the river and go for a walk in the woods to clear his head before his shift… Except, he was still on the walk, and his shift had started a half hour ago. He checked his phone again, once again trying to load google maps to try and get him back to his car. The fucking stump he kept passing somehow was starting to piss him off. He even walked straight away from it at least twice. Maybe once. Actually, he didn’t really know where he was going. He had just tried to call his boss (of course, no fucking service), when he heard others and he swore on relief. “Fucking finally. You guys know how to get back to the road? I’m fuckin’ lost here.”

Lydia hadn’t had much of a plan for the evening other than a quiet stroll and a conversation with some pixies, but it hadn’t been long before she’d spotted a familiar figure - Remmy the zombie. “Remmy! How are you doing?” She asked, waltzing over, footsteps silent on the gravel of the path. But moments later, another approached them, callous and swearing and - oh, no, this was that fae Deirdre had told her about. She recognised him from his profile pictures. “Yes, of course, it’s this way…”

After the third time meeting the same stump, Mercy realized something was going on. The fact that it had taken three passes for her to realize it was only mildly less irritating than the stump itself. Her first thought was that this rang of fairy bullshit. There was no use in going around again. It would just bring her back here. So Mercy found a different stump and sat down. Someone else would be along eventually.

Remmy was just out on their usual route with Moose, taking him for his evening walk. They’d wandered a bit off the path this time, enjoying the nice night. A familiar voice reached their ears and they perked up, glancing around. One squint through the darkness later and they spotted Lydia approaching them. “Lydia!” They waved, glancing around. “What’re you doing out here--” they started, but someone else’s voice interrupted them. A man, huffing about being lost. “Oh, yeah, we just came from--” they turned to point the path out, but then realized the path was….not there anymore. Instead, it was a different path, and a different stump. Moose whined. “Um….Lydia?” They looked at her. “Where’d the path go?”

An evening stroll was rather typical for one of Dewey’s days off. It offered at least a momentary break from the weekly monotony, and he generally enjoyed the time to himself. What he didn’t enjoy, however, was losing his bearings. He had lived in White Crest long enough to know which paths led where, what areas he frequented often and those which were new. But that stump - hadn’t he passed it at least twice now? And then he picked up on a sudden chatter ahead of him, slowly approaching the small group with a level of caution, listening. “Seems we’re all in a bit of misplacement,”

“Out for a wander, to meet some friends,” Lydia replied with a mildly concerned smile. However, as she turned, she realised Remmy was right. The path wasn’t there anymore. As someone else approached her eyes narrowed at him, although he looked cautious as well. “Indeed. Honeyblossom!” She turned and called into the night sky. “Honeyblossom, I know your pranks. You’ve had your fun now. Stop this at once!” Honeyblossom, however, didn’t reply That wasn’t too surprising - this didn’t feel like fae magic, least of all that of the pixies she’d come to see. Instead, her eyes settled on a figure watching them from afar. “Is this your doing?” She called out to Mercy.

The Fury had sat on her log, watching the others as they had accumulated in a small, slightly uncertain-looking group. She vaguely recognized a few of them from around town, but didn’t know their names. She wondered just how many of them whatever was messing around out here would need for… whatever it was doing. Apparently this was her answer. A motley looking group, but she’d seen worse. When one of the group noticed her and called out, Mercy tossed aside the stick she’d been holding and stood. She moved closer, still eyeing the small group curiously before her eyes settled on the one who’d called out to her. “If it was my doing you wouldn’t know I was here. But no. I don’t have this kind of magic.”

“But the fuckin’ path wasn’t there, it was - oh. Hey!” Jeff made a face where he pointed to where his path was supposed to be. Something about the woman with Remmy felt weird, but he stopped focusing on that the second he saw the dog. “Oh! I know that dog!” Jeff said, pointing at Moose, before looking at Remmy. “We talked online, I have a dog too. Remmy, right? My dog is Lett-” Jeff didn’t get a chance to continue telling Remmy about Lettie, because things were happening. People were here. And they were talking about fucking honeypots and and magic. Jeff looked between all of them a moment. “Hold on one fuckin’ second,” he said, holding his hands up, confused. “Why’re we talking about magic?” He looked at Remmy, as if they would know. “Does this have anything to do with fuckin’ fairies?”

Honeypot? Remmy blinked, looking from Lydia, to the guy walking up, to the woman far away. Moose was still calm by their legs, so there was no reason to panic, but there were more people here than Remmy was really comfortable being around, especially since they didn’t know too many of them. Only Lydia. Shrinking behind her slightly, Remmy glance at the even newer, new comer, a pale, tall man, who looked just as confused as they did. “Oh, umm-- I, I don’t think you’re supposed to call them that,” they pointed out to Jeff, wincing at the word ‘fairy’. “Wait, magic? Like curse magic? Like, the chest and the-the beach stuff?”

And just before Dewey could bring up a reasoning for their sudden topographic confusion, an explanation - a rather… far reaching one - was brought up, and he immediately felt his jaw tighten. Magic, curses, true he believed in all of it, but even in a town like White Crest, those weren’t always the reasons for something a bit odd happening. “Now, perhaps we shouldn’t jump to any conclusions before we’ve assessed the situation,” He interjected, keeping his tone even and calm. For now the group seemed to have their heads, but that could change in the blink of an eye. “Perhaps there’s been some… newer trails added in the last few weeks? It isn’t unheard of for such changes to take place. Or, one of us might be lost, while the other could be on the right path?”

Lydia had to freeze her face in place to not glare literal daggers into Jeff’s back. Human raised gancanagh or not, there was no excuse for that behaviour. Not the priority, Lydia, not the priority. The woman who had lingered had some kind of magic, but she was right - Lydia’s skin didn’t ring like bell chimes to look at her, not the way Jeff did. She stood with Remmy, comfortable to let the more nervous zombie hide behind her. But it was the other man who spoke sense. “I’d agree, if there was any path. But we won’t find our way standing here. We’re to the west of the town, we can just about see Polaris there,” she pointed to the north star in the sky, “So if we keep it to our left we’ll find the path quickly enough. As we’re all walking together, I’m Lydia.” She introduced herself, and promptly began walking.

Mercy raised an eyebrow at the flippant use of the word ‘fairy.’ She hadn’t known that many fae over her lifetime, but the few she had known would’ve rankled. Thankfully, someone else pointed it out. Mercy didn’t know their name, but she spoke to them anyway, glancing at the first man who’d spoken as well. “Not necessarily,” she said of the magic being a curse. Or it being magic at all. The other man spoke after that, and Mercy crossed her arms, listening to what he had to say. It was logical enough, and she told him so. But she also agreed with the woman that called herself Lydia. There was no path. So they would have to make their own it seemed. Mercy glanced up at the sky as Lydia started walking, gesturing that the others should go ahead of her if they wished. “I’m Mercy. I’ll bring up the rear.”

“Fuck,” Jeff said, “I forgot again.” Deirdre wasn’t going to be happy with him, but at least there was no one here that cared that he said fairy. “Faerie. Fae. My bad, my fucking bad, I know - wait, hold on, I’m confused,” Jeff said, following after Lydia. “There was a path, all I was doing was throwing my coin in some water like I was told, and then going for a walk. Oh. I’m Jeff, by the way,” he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “I’ve been out here for over a fuckin’ hour, and I’m late to work because every fucking time I end up back at that stupid fucking stump. I’m still on the magic thing - are we all the same fucking page with that bullshit?”

Remmy didn’t like anything going on, and Moose could tell. He whined softly and pressed his body against their legs, letting them know he was there for support. Remmy held his lead tightly, moving quickly when Lydia started to head off. Who were all these people? “Jeff? Oh, yeah--” they started, stumbling in the dark a little, “that’s why you know Moose. I’m Remmy.” They looked back at the other two, Mercy and whoever that other guy was. He seemed like a reasonable man. “Okay, but like...I walk this path almost every morning with Moose. Or, um-- I walk the path I came in on. Since we’re not on that path anymore…” they looked down as they walked, as if staring into the dirt would give them the answer, before looking back up. “If it isn’t magic, what is it?”

Dewey wasn’t quite sure if his hypothesis was entirely correct, or even viable at this point. But it felt better to know that they would at least start moving again - hopefully towards a solution, and not unintentionally losing themselves further into the wood. “Dewey Foster,” He added after everyone else had introduced themselves, idly shoving a hand inside of his pocket. He sighed, a bit of frustration etching into his thoughtful features. “I certainly don’t… completely rule out the possibility of something otherworldly. But I truly don’t believe that’s what we’re dealing with. Ah, Jeff, was it?” He motioned towards the blonde, “You said you’ve been walking for about an hour now. Perhaps it really is just a case of being lost? It’s not unheard of for people to wind up running into others with the same predicament. It could be a simple case of misdirection,” En masse. Mm.

“I’d only been in the park a few minutes before we wandered astray, we can’t be that far from the town.” Lydia was confident in this, at least. But the woods weren’t always kind. Lydia knew by heart many of the kinds of tricksters that lived here at night, and while she could exclude some - this was no Wisp - others she was less sure about. But she kept her eyes on Polaris as they walked, ensuring it kept them all in line, walking in the right direction. She could almost hear the town in the distance. They were so clo- Lydia yelped as she tripped and began to fall, catching herself on a tree branch at the last second. “Wha-” It was the stump. The same stump, Lydia was sure of it. Her eyes flashed up to Polaris again, and it hadn’t moved. It was still on her left. But behind her was the stump, and to the right the branch her and Remmy had been stood under just as Dewey had joined them. There, a little further, where Mercy had been watching them from afar. “How on earth are we back here?”

“I am,” Mercy said to Jeff as they walked. About being on the same page in regards to magic. “Have you seen anything else? Besides the stump and all of us?” She glanced at the woman walking the dog - Remmy, she noted to herself - and wondered if perhaps the canine could sense something none of them could. Animals were clever like that. A way out of all this perhaps? But it - Moose, that is - stayed closed to Remmy, and didn’t look like he was going anywhere anytime soon. And Remmy looked nervous, so Mercy didn’t even bring the suggestion up. She was a fan of turmoil, but even she had her limits. “It could be something completely benign-” Not that she really believed that. “- as Mr. Foster suggested.” But when they came full circle, quite literally, again… and Mercy looked up into the sky just as Lydia did, to see Polaris as it had always been… unease crept along her spine. She left her spot at the back of the line and moved to stand beside Lydia. Mercy never took her eyes from the sky. “The stars don’t lie,” she murmured pointedly to the other woman. Not because she was trying to be secretive, but simply because it felt dangerous to speak too loudly.

Remmy reached out quickly to try and help Lydia when she stumbled, but the woman caught herself with ease. Moose seemed more tense now, as well, and Remmy moved to the opposite side of Lydia that the woman who said her name was Mercy came up to, unintentionally shielding themself. Another low whine from Moose and Remmy reached down to pat him. “I don’t wanna like...interrupt or anything, but I’ve got a really bad feeling about all of this.” And Remmy’s feelings were usually right, especially when coupled with the way Moose was acting. They looked over at Lydia then back to Jeff and the other man-- Dewey-- before joining their gaze at the stars. “Maybe...it’s like...not there? Or, um...we were going the wrong way. I-I don’t really know how magic works. If that’s even...if this is even…” But what else could it be?

“The stars don’t lie, but those may not be stars,” Lydia replied. She turned and looked sympathetically at Remmy and Moose. “I do too, darling. It might be magic, which works in many ways. I’m not sure.” But as she followed their gaze, she heard something behind them, rustling in the bushes. “Did anyone hear that? I can’t see far in the dark.”

“I’m with the dog,” Jeff said flatly, nodding to Moose as he whined. He “I don’t like this at fuckin’ all. That’s the same fucking stump I’ve been seeing this entire fucking time.” Jeff said, exasperated. “No matter what I do, I end back here. It’s not - See what now?” Jeff asked, finally paying attention to Lydia. He looked back over at the rustling bushes, pushed his sleeves up and stepped forward. If this were Boston, it was probably some drunk idiot. “Hey!” He snapped. “If anyone’s in there, you come out right now! Don’t make me fucking come back there!” He forgot, for a moment, that this wasn’t Boston.

For a brief moment, Dewey had thought they might be able to escape whatever this predicament was by banding together. Five brains versus one sounded like far better odds. Although, there could be potential downsides - he didn’t want to delve into them, however. No, he remained cautiously optimistic. Up until the very moment Lydia took a tumble, immediately stepping a bit closer. When he noticed the stump, he had to stifle a huff of frustration, fingers running through his hair anxiously. “This doesn’t make any sense,” He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. Well, if they weren’t stars, then what exactly were they? Though he indeed heard the rustling, head twitching towards the area it originated from. Seeing Jeff seemingly preparing himself for a rumble, the doctor reached out and pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder. “Not just yet. We don’t want to potentially aggravate whoever… or whatever it is,” His voice lowered, eyes narrowing as he peered into the darkness, searching for something, anything identifiable. He really didn’t like the idea of fighting something they may know nothing about - but if worse came to worse, he would do what was necessary.

“So do I,” Mercy agreed with Remmy. She continued to look at the sky, willing whatever was at work to show itself. She vaguely registered that Lydia stumbled, but the other woman righted herself on her own, so Mercy didn’t react. It wasn’t until Remmy said something else - that maybe the star wasn’t really there - and Lydia followed up with the idea that maybe it wasn’t a star at all, that Mercy finally glanced back at the group. She was about to ask a question when she heard the noise too, and turned towards the trees. But the guy named Jeff was already rolling up his sleeves. Shit. “I wouldn’t do that-” Mercy said, glancing between Jeff and the rustling. Dewey spoke up after that, and while Mercy heard him, and wholeheartedly agreed, she was far too concentrated on the rising sense of foreboding that crept over her skin. This felt achingly familiar. More familiar than the stump that they were being led to over and over and ove- OH. Oh no. “It’s a trap.” The words came softly, but with a tone that suggested she wasn’t playing around. “We’re being led into a trap.”

Remmy stuck close by Lydia, unhooking Moose’s lead in case they needed to bolt. Neither of them would do any good chained together. The rustling was getting closer, and it rang louder in Remmy’s ears than they were sure was normal. Senses suddenly heightened and tense as Jeff started yelling, and Dewey was whispering and Lydia was squinting into the darkness. And now Mercy was speaking-- a trap. It was a trap. Hair on the back of Remmy’s neck bristled. Their whole body went taught. It was happening again. They’d walked into a trap. It happened in an instance. They blinked and they were back in that bunker. Voices outside. Gunshots. Remmy’s whole face went pale and Moose began whining again. Remmy lunged, reached out for Jeff-- Anderson-- Jeff? Hand pulling back on him. “Don’t go out there!” they cried out in a hushed whisper. “Don’t go out there!”

Jeff’s eyes rolled into the back of his head when Dewey put his hand on his shoulder, looking back at him. “I’m not about to let some fuckin’ asshole hide in the bushes and watch us. Fucking creepy, especially if it’s a fucking trap. Fuck that,” Jeff said, shaking him off. He went to go forward again until Remmy the Dog Friend lunged for him, yanking him back. Remmy was surprisingly stronger than they looked. Jeff’s eyes widened and he turned to look at them, “Hey! Don’t tug, Remmy - oh. Hey. Are you okay?” Jeff forgot about attacking the increasingly rustling bush, looking down at Remmy. He lowered his voice, leaning down slightly. “Do you know what’s in the bush? Why are we whispering?”

A trap? Dewey’s already present frown only deepened at the claim Mercy made, gaze never leaving the spot where he could have sworn he’d seen something. Though his mounting nerves weren’t the only ones of the group, and he could already see the situation devolving into panic rather quickly. And as fortified as Jeff appeared, he assumed the other was still prone to injury just as easily as any other human. With nothing else to go on concerning the other three, and Remmy obviously startled by something in particular, he glanced back at the group before beginning to step forward. “Everyone just stay together, I’m checking this out for myself,” Despite the unknowns and potential for something supernaturally dangerous, he felt more assured in his own strength than leaving anyone else to deal head-on with… whatever this was. And though his anxiety pulsed, rising gravely similar to a quickening heartbeat, he didn’t hesitate.

Mercy wasn’t sure what this was, but she certainly didn’t think this was just some creeper watching them from the bushes. Thankfully, Remmy stepped forwards and kept Jeff from doing anything foolish. The Fury had no idea what the others were, but it seemed they were all aware of the existence of magic and the supernatural. In an umbrella sense at least. She listened aside as Jeff asked if Remmy knew what was out there, but didn’t hear if they answered as Dewey stepped forwards. Mercy knew that whatever was out there was unlikely to harm her enough to actually kill her, but that didn’t mean there was no danger. She could still be injured. As could the others. She glanced again at the others before raising a hand that suggested staying put for the moment, and moved after Dewey. “I hope you’re something that doesn’t die easily…” Mercy said quietly as they slowly walked towards the treeline. “Truly.”

Lydia was, true to the stereotype, a lover, not a fighter. She owned a small pistol she carried only for hunters, not for whatever being was responsible for this. She hovered by Remmy, watching them carefully. “Remmy. Remington. Stay with us. Those two will sort whatever this is.” Although Lydia’s voice was high pitched, her wings thrumming under her glamour. The air was beginning to taste like cigars and burning hair. It crouched, watching as the group splintered. Rubbing its ears with its knees, it bared its teeth as the two approached. Standing, it’s joints clicked and cracked, before it charged. These woods belonged to it, and it would protect the woods.

Mercy had seen many creatures that existed outside the scope of most human knowledge. Creatures that were harmless as well as those that were not. She’d seen creatures older than herself, creatures as ancient as the myths that told their stories and then turned them into fairytales. The Fury had even hunted some of them for awhile, ages ago. So this horror was not entirely unfamiliar, it’s appearance buzzing at the edge of her memory, but still unnameable. Was it what had been leading them in circles? Was it the cause of the illusions? Whatever it was, and whatever power it had, right now it was focused on running her and Dewey down. It’s long, bony limbs stretched out over the grassy space between the forests edge and the spot where the two of them stood. Impossibly fast, impossibly long, impossibly horrible as flat white teeth bared in a scream of rage that was both wholly monstrous and yet still vaguely human. Mercy barely had time to duck as a thick, skeletal limb tried to stomp her into the ground. But where the front one missed, the back one clipped the Valkyrie, and she was knocked to the ground. The hoof found a violent purchase against her back, and she grunted in pain as she felt something snap in her rib cage. But the creature was still moving, reaching and screaming for its next victims. “MOVE!” Mercy wheezed at the others, grimacing at the pain in her side as she stumbled to her feet.

It was happening all over again. Remmy wanted to hang on to the present moment, but they just couldn’t. They were all in danger. Alarms blared in their head. Get out, get out, get out. Remmy heard screams and tore past Jeff, away from Lydia. They couldn’t let them die again. Not again. They plowed through bushes, brush, a tree, something pulling in them, heightened senses alert, eyes narrowing in on whatever was moving towards them. The group. Their friends. The forest before them turned into rubble. Into decrepit houses. Into a battlefield. They looked down and saw boots, uniformed pants. Their rifle, dangling by their side as someone dragged them along. We have to get inside! No, not inside. “No! Not inside! We have to keep going! They’ll trap us! It’s an ambush!” They couldn’t let it happen again. Remmy’s hand found someone on the ground, hoisting them up with a strength unfound in humans or other. Eyes flashing red, angry. Shoving themself between the figure in front of them and the fallen soldier. Fists flying. Something connected, cracked-- not their fist, never their fist, bones bending instead. A heavy weight pressed against their chest, launching them back. The rubbled flickered for a moment back to the woods. “We have to…” they stood up, a concave hole in their chest. No pain registered across their face. “Keep moving.”

A horse. That was the first thought that flickered into Dewey’s mind when the creature had first emerged. A feral, nightmarish amalgamation of horse and… a faint semblance of human, yet something entirely not. Though he wasn’t breathing hard, or at all, he felt his chest tighten with a stifled gasp as it charged towards them. The fight-or-flight response had urged him to dart out of it’s path, just barely managing to escape the brute force of a hoof to the chest. He was immediately fixated on Mercy, just barely able to make it upright. And then, of all people he hadn’t expected, Remmy flinging themselves into the foray. Right, no use just standing there. Rearing back a few steps, he took a running start before slamming his body into the creature, attempting to knock it off balance - and he did at least manage that. At the very least when it staggered back onto it’s feet, it would hopefully go for him in it’s tunnel vision rage. “Over here!” He baited it, crouched in wait as he tried to detect the horrors next move.

It did not go for Dewey, Lydia realised with the slow horror of someone who was fit, but wasn’t a runner. Her toned muscle was aesthetically pleasing, not functional. When it, with teeth like daggers and eyes flashing in the dark, turned its wild eyes to her, Lydia knew it was troubled. Screaming, with no grace whatsoever, Lydia turned and ran, but it was on her leg, its teeth scraping through her jeans and skin. Lydia screamed, the glamour dropping from her firebug wings, which spread and beat to drag its grip off her. Eventually it released, turning its wild eyes to a new target, as Lydia hovered, grimacing as her blood trickled down her leg. “How do we kill it?” She yelled - but by we, she mean anyone but her.

Things happened really quickly. One second he was leaning down to ask Remmy if they were okay and the next everyone and their fucking mother was trying to attack the ugly beast. “Jesus fucking Christ, can we -” Jeff never got to finish his sentence, becasue Dewey’s bait went straight for the woman that made him fee tingly - in a flash Lydia’s glamour dropped. Holy fucking shit, she had fucking wings - holy shit, Lydia was a fucking fairy!! Fae. Oh shit. Jeff cursed loudly as the stipid thing came charging after him. Jeff went charging right back. Except, as he got closer, the thing reared back, a horrible noise coming from it. “Get fucking back here you piece of shit -” Jeff swore at it, before getting close enough to smash his fist into it’s face. The beast scrambled and Jeff chased after it, not ready for the fight to be over yet. However, the stupid thing ended up faster than him, and as he stopped panting, he realized two things. “I found the fucking path!” Jeff shouted over his shoulder to the others. The second thing was that he’d put his fucking shirt on inside out. Fucking whoops. Jeff turned back, jogging back towards the injured Lydia, “Hey, you alright? Is everyone alright? I found the path!”

Mercy didn’t know what the hell had just happened. One second she was being trampled, and the next she was being snatched bodily to her feet and another figure - Remmy, she noted - was putting themselves between the Valkyrie and the raging onslaught of teeth and hooves. “Holy shit, are you-” out of your mind, Mercy tried to ask as she pulled in a painful breath against her busted rib. But she never got the chance. A powerful hoof connected with Remmy’s chest - a wet crunching sound accompanying it - and they went flying backwards. Mercy reached out reflexively to try and snag them, but it was too late. Or… holy shit. Mercy watched Remmy get to their feet, the indention in their chest one that should’ve been fatal. But they didn’t even seem to notice. They just… got right back up. But there was little time to think on it as Dewey started to yell at the creature, and even tried to knock it off it’s feet. But it wasn’t deterred. It turned for the others. For Lydia the star-reader, and Jeff. Mercy looked around for anything she could use as a weapon, unable to answer Lydia’s question, but there was nothing. Not even a pointy stick. But as she was about to turn and simply throw herself back into the fray, Jeff started yelling… and then he… he punched it in the face. It made a horrible sound before turning tail and fleeing back towards the forest. Good fucking riddance, she thought, raising a hand to let Jeff know that she was alright before looking to the others.

When the thing charged for Mulberry-- Lydia?-- Remmy staggered after it, their head spinning. Someone was shouting, fists flying. This wasn’t right. As Remmy took another step, missing the root on the ground, they tumbled forward and the dessert gave way to jungle again. Ears ringing, Remmy looked up. Blood. Lydia was bleeding. It smelled funny. Remmy’s nose crinkled as they pushed themself back up, stumbling over to her. “Are you--” okay? No, she was bleeding. Jeff was yelling and chasing something. Footsteps. Remmy, dizzy, turned quickly. But it was just Jeff again. Somehow winded, Remmy collapsed next to Lydia. The others started showing up. Remmy looked up at Jeff, squinting through the darkness. “The path? You found it? We can leave?” Thank god, because Remmy had no idea what had just happened. And, somehow, their head was killing them.

“I just need to get home and rest,” Lydia replied, using her wings and good leg to hop through the woods. Jeff had chased it away. How had Jeff chased it away? Lydia wined as her hurt leg brushed against the undergrowth. Soon she’d hide her wings again, but the damage was already done. “We can leave.” Lydia looked to Remmy, and softly murmured, “Make sure you eat when you get home.” Lydia needed to as well. She looked around at the ragtag group of survivors. There was no doubt in her mind that fate had thrown them together, and would again some other time.

#para #para lydia #para remmy #para dewey #para mercy #lydia #remmy #dewey #mercy #lost in the woods #that was a time lmfaooo #panic attack tw

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years

Text

Remnants, Part IV

This chapter is another build--there’s going to be a little more action in the next.

Summary: You are in the midst of formulating your dissertation, but you’ve hit a wall. Your doting aunt, Rebecca, has a solution that brings you face to face with Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. As the connection between you and Ahkmenrah grows, and as the secrets of his ancient tablet unlock, the once-king will find himself faced with a difficult choice.

Thanks so much to @kitkatcronch @kpopperotp12 @seafrost-fangirl @sassystrawberryk and @perfect-rami for reading : ) If anyone else wants added to the taglist, let me know. I’ve greatly appreciated all of the feedback!

Warnings: Another wee, mild reference to sex. Ahk is a solid 20 years of age to be certain to avoid any squick factor.

* * * * *

You couldn’t stop thinking about Ahkmenrah’s long-returned-to-dust bedtime garment. Of course, you couldn’t stop picturing him in it and chastised yourself for that, but as his friend, you also longed to help him combat some of that nostalgia. You were really beginning to create a vortex of chaos when it came to your thoughts about the once-pharaoh. You saw him as a person now, a complex, oddity of a person who loved the thing you loved the most, too. The distance you told yourself to keep was now more of a suggestion than a rule.

You sighed, frowning and mentally swearing to recement your own rule. It was for Ahkmenrah’s safety as much as it was for yours. You two couldn’t have a life together without you sacrificing everything, and you couldn’t bear the thought of having to break his heart if the two of you got in too deep. The true problem was that it was very easy to reestablish a solid boundary when you weren’t looking into his beautiful, intense eyes.

Oh! Senet! Yes! You thought to yourself, remembering the board game that the ancient Egyptians played. While the rules had never really been discovered, you were sure Ahk would know exactly what it was. There was an antiquities store in Greenwich Village that specialized in recreating ancient artifacts. There was a niggling remnant of a memory in the back of your mind of you gliding your hand across the smooth top of the board, wondering what it would have been like to sit on a rooftop with a fire and the night sky providing just enough light as you played, the burbling of the Nile in the background, its din a sweet music to your ears.

Yes. Senet would make the perfect gift for Ahkmenrah.

As you packed up your bookbag after a long day at school, you mentally mapped out your late afternoon. You had just enough time to journey into the Village to try to find the game for Ahk before you needed to begin the first chapter of your dissertation. Today had been a great day as you met with the three professors who would be serving as the chairs for your dissertation. Out of the three, there was only one who intimidated you. She was known for being tough, but you weren’t about to let something as little as criticism get in the way of your dream.

You were just about to step out when your phone buzzed.

“Done. Give it a look?”

Your thumbs hovered over the letters as you decided when to meet Ryan.

“Busy tonight. Tomorrow?”

“Brunch. North Square on Waverly?”

“Perfect :)”

A small part of you longed to tell Ryan about the museum; he would love it, and you knew he would keep it a secret. However, you also knew it just wasn’t worth the risk. You considered Ryan your closest friend, but Rebecca was family, and she had risked everything by telling you about the museum’s secret. You also remembered Larry’s torturous induction; Ryan’s dissertation would be finished by the time Larry actually let him meet an important display.

You shoved your phone into your bag and headed for the Village, picturing the delight on Ahk’s face when you surprised him tonight.

* * * * *

Even though you had to explain some of the newer pieces, like dice, Ahk was impressed with how close the reconstruction was. He immediately went over the rules and you then spent the better part of the night losing to him again and again. He was so happy that you didn’t mind at all. And when you finally won a single game, you were highly suspect that he had let you win.

“May I ask you something?” you questioned as you moved your piece to yet another square of bad fortune, falling further behind Ahk’s own seemingly blessed by the gods gamepiece.

Ahkmenrah rested his chin on his hand, a look of concentration on his face as he stared at the Senet board.

“You may ask me anything.”

“What was it like for you at Cambridge?”

Ahk furrowed his brows and looked up, disregarding the dice as he explained, “Well, when I arrived at Cambridge, it was the first time that I had awoken since my entombment. According to Jack, he was the scholar assigned to examine the findings from my tomb and he later became my close friend, the tablet was stolen right before my tomb was sealed. During the excavation of the pyramids, it was actually discovered sealed up beneath a statue of Anubis. For years, people thought it was cursed. Jack, he was such a clever man, pieced together that it was the Tablet of Ahkmenrah, although he got quite a shock when he reunited me with it.”

The game lay forgotten between the two of you as you listened to Ahkmenrah’s story. He had a strange look in his eyes, as if remembering something bittersweet that he had tried very hard to forget.

“You don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want to.”

“No, Y/N. I swore to always tell you the truth. It is painful to remember, but I suppose it’s a good kind of pain. It means I’m still human, still alive.”

Yes, you thought, it most certainly did.

Your mouth formed a small o of horror as you realized, “So you came to life, literally thousands of years later. That had to have been a shock!”

Ahkmenrah barked out a sharp laugh.

“To put it mildly, yes. If it weren’t for Jack, I think I would have lost my mind. He was so patient, obviously eager to learn, like you, but he really took time to explain everything to me. He would sneak me out to take me to all of Cambridge’s museums, and he even took me to the Museum of Natural History. He helped me understand where I was, what life was like now—well, then. He taught me the history of my empire, and more importantly, empathized with me as I grieved for the loss of everything my people had worked to build.”

“Oh, Ahk, do you still feel that way? Like your Egypt has been lost?”

“In some ways, yes, because it certainly has. That way of life, my way of life, is gone. But Jack showed me many of the things that my people have given to this world and that brought comfort.”

“And that was in the 1940s? 50s? We now know even more about the advancements that are credited to the Egyptians, probably because of the work of people like Jack.”

And then it dawned on you: “Wait a minute. Jack. As in Jack Cecil Evans?”

“Yes. Do you know of him?”

You reached into your backpack and pulled out your laptop. Ahkmenrah moved to stand behind you, watching your fingers dash over the keys. Google retrieved several images of Jack, along with the many articles he published on the subject of the Tomb of Ahkmenrah. Ahk was Jack’s life work.

Ahkmenrah reached out a shaky finger and traced it over the image of Jack on your screen.

You quietly asked, “What happened to Jack?”

Ahkmenrah took a deep breath and returned to his seat across from you, his eyes glistening in the light.

“He died a few years before my exhibit was moved to the United States. I suppose that is when I really began to understand loneliness. Jack knew he didn’t have much time left, so he ensured that I would be safe, able to get out and to move. It wasn’t long, though, before the allure of my tablet attracted those awful men who moved me here and locked me up.”

Silence settled between the two of you, Ahkmenrah lost in his memories, you lost in making sense of the layers of pain that Ahkmenrah hid beneath his cheerful demeanor.

“Ahkmenrah, if there’s one thing I could do for you, what would it be?”

“You have given more already than I could have ever hoped. You are proving to be as good of a friend as Jack, except, you’re a bit younger and much prettier.”

Your soft laughter pulled a smile from Ahkmenrah.

“I’m being serious, though. What do you want or wish you could do?”

Ahkmenrah’s face transformed as it filled with a childish excitement, making him look much younger than his 20 years.

He spoke softly, as if afraid someone might overhear: “I want to see the city, really see it. I want to know life as a normal, modern man.”

Once again, you found yourself forsaking your rule, and you broke out into a grin because Ahkmenrah’s excitement was contagious.

“Ahk, that’s a pretty simple request.”

“Is it? You go and ask Larry. I’ll wait here and listen for his bellow.”

“Larry doesn’t own you. You were a king, Ahk.”

“Perhaps Larry needn’t know?”

“No, he needn’t,” you said slowly, returning Ahkmenrah’s sly grin.

You began to chew on your bottom lip, thinking deeply about what you would need to do to take Ahk out for a night. Clothes and shoes, maybe practice with those, figure out places to go, you didn’t want to wander around in the city and overwhelm him, and—

“Care to share?”

“I think we need a night to plan. I can pick up some clothes tomorrow morning and tomorrow night we will make sure they fit. Then we need to plan out where you want to go.”

Ahkmenrah, his voice filled with anticipation, asked, “May I offer some suggestions of places I have been most curious to explore?”

“Of course! It’s your night!”

“There was a photography exhibit a few months ago that showed the view from the Empire State Building. I am curious to see just how high this building is.”

“Done. I’ve got a friend who can get us tickets. What else?”

“Music—some of my favorite nights during my youth were sneaking into my parents’ parties and listening to the music, watching the dancing and revelry. I miss. . .people.”

You smiled, sadness tugging at your heart, but knew this wish was an easy one to fulfill, too.

“Also as good as done. I know the perfect place in the Village, and it’s near my apartment.”

Ahkmenrah’s face threatened to split into two as his grin widened even further.

“Jack told me about life and he explained it well, but he never let me live it. When I was locked in my sarcophagus, I spent most nights worrying that I would never get the chance to live. And you know how Egyptians felt about the gift of life.”

Indeed, you did. Well, so much for your rule—you’d have to once again reconcile that what you were doing for Ahk was more meaningful than maintaining a boundary. Besides, just because you were giving Ahkmenrah a taste of life didn’t mean that you were in love with him; you were being a good friend.

“I’m going to duck out a little early tonight to get some sleep. I’m meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow, before work, so I’ll need to run the errands first.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I am forever indebted to you for your kindness.”

“Uh, remember those 4,000-year-old papyruses you gifted me with to allow me to finish my dissertation proposal? I’d say we are barely scratching even.”

Ahkmenrah couldn’t stop smiling and you elbowed him in the ribs as he walked you to the front desk to say goodbye to Larry.

“Stop smiling,” you hissed. “You’re terrible at being discreet.”

Ahk composed himself for all of 10 seconds.

“Fun night?” Larry asked, raising his brow and taking in Ahkmenrah’s unabashed happiness.

“Y/N brought me a game that we used to play in my time. It was a real. . . blast from the past.”

Larry laughed and you chuckled, too.

“You’re really catching onto the slang, Ahk,” Larry said.

“I’ve always been a quick study.”

“Goodnight, boys. I’ll see you tomorrow!” you called, waving as you dashed out.

* * * * *

Shopping had been a success, although you were now ten minutes late for your brunch with Ry, which was highly uncharacteristic for you.

“I was about to call the coppers.”

“Sorry—had to run some errands. I’m starving, though!”

You picked up your menu and scanned for what you wanted. Ryan knew you well enough to know that you couldn’t focus on anything he said until you determined what you were ordering. Once the waiter returned and the two of you placed your orders, you turned your full attention to him.

You asked him how he thought his proposal turned out, and he explained what he wanted you to look for during your proof. He knew your time was limited, but you assured him that you didn’t mind.

Conversation flowed without effort and you found yourself smiling, falling into the charm that was Ryan. Things were so easy with him, so easy in the bright light of the sun that streamed through the window of the café.

“Our mates are all headed out tomorrow night. Any chance I can convince you to meet up?”

“Tomorrow, huh? I’ve—”

“You’ve got plans,” Ryan said, his smile faltering a bit. “Any chance you wanna tell me what’s got you so busy all of a sudden?”

“The same thing that’s going to have you so busy soon enough. I thought you and I didn’t do the whole jealousy bit?”

“I’m not jealous—just curious.”

“Mmm. You forget that I know you better than that.”

“I don’t want you working too hard. You know how you get, Y/N. Your passion for your research is enviable. Is it wrong to wish that maybe you were that passion about something else? To keep a little hope that maybe it could be me?”

“If you recall, I showed up at the airport and begged you to take me to Australia with you for the summer after the first year of our ‘friendship.’ God, I’m still not over that embarrassment.”

Ryan laughed, the sparkle returning to his eyes.

“What happened to that girl?”

“She’s still here, just a little preoccupied.”

“Well, I’ll text you, just in case you change your mind about Saturday.”

Ryan held the door open for you as you exited the café. He pulled you into a tight hug, and asked, “Going my way?”

“You know I am,” you replied and linked your fingers with his proffered hand.

You and Ryan walked to NYU, hand in hand, the sun warming your skin and wrapping you up in his radiant energy.

* * * * *

You had bought two sizes of everything, planning on returning what didn’t fit to the store tomorrow. It had been a long time since you had a boyfriend to dress up, so you were really loving the idea of seeing what Ahk looked like in your purchases. You also brought along some product to attempt to tame his curls.

You crammed all of your purchases into your backpack, while simultaneously cramming down any thoughts about what you were doing. Brunch with Ryan had reminded you of exactly why you shouldn’t be getting so close to Ahkmenrah. The two of you would never stroll hand in hand through the New York streets in the sunlight. You could never wake up in Ahk’s arms, and the thought of exactly what would happened if you did should have been enough to scare you straight.

Should have been.

Except, once again, there he was, and he was barely able to keep from bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet the instant he saw you.

Ahkmenrah swept forward, his cape billowing behind him, as he grabbed your hand.

“Come on—I know where we can go to avoid detection.”

You followed Ahk through the museum and into an old, clearly forgotten storage area. Stacks of boxes lined the walls, overflowing from the shelves that also had boxes and items of antiquity stacked to the ceiling. The room was about the size of a modest living room and was cast in a greenish hue from the single, fluorescent overhead light.

Ahkmenrah locked the door, stating that as far as he knew, no one at night had a key.

He started shedding his garments, faster than you could register and when he pulled his belt off, you said, “Whoa. I know nakedness isn’t, like, a thing for Egyptians, but it is for me, well, us, you know what I mean. . .”

“My apologies. I am just so eager!”

You laughed shaking your head and pulling the clothes from your bag.

Ahkmenrah stood patiently now, and it occurred to you that he seemed to be more presence than actual personhood. He was fit, gorgeously proportioned, but he wasn’t a big guy. You sifted through your purchases and selected the smaller sizes.

You pulled out a package of boxer-briefs and explained to Ahkmenrah that he should put these on before his pants.

He examined the underwear closely, his nose scrunching up at the idea of being constrained, then proceeded to ask no less than ten questions. You considered yourself a patient person, but finally just exclaimed, “Ahk! Try them on!”

He hooked his thumb into the tie of his shendyt and pulled, and you whirled around to give him the privacy that he clearly wasn’t concerned about.

You listened to his shuffling and when he stilled, you asked, “Are they on?”

“Yes.”

You turned around and drank in the sight of the once-king in nothing but a snug pair of white boxer-briefs. The white complemented the darkness of his skin, even under the subpar lighting, and for the first time, you noticed the faint trail of dark hair that led beneath the waistband of his newly donned garment. His legs, just as perfectly proportioned as the rest of him, were muscular, strong, and you found yourself wondering if you could make the muscles of those thighs twitch if you were on your knees—

“Does this look suitable?”

You swallowed as you attempted to appear perfectly in control of your body’s reaction and nodded.

“What’s next?” Ahkmenrah asked, still barely containing his excitement.

You grinned, “Pants.”

“Damn.”

“Come on. Don’t discount them before you’ve even tried them.”

You had chosen a pair of tight-fitting tan pants made of a soft, stretchy fabric. You were a little worried about his reaction to them, so you had also bought a pair of looser fitting jeans as a backup.

You handed the pants to Ahkmenrah and he put them on slowly; you couldn’t hold in your giggles at the faces he made as he pulled them up his legs and over his hips. It was like you’d made him try on pants made of fire and barbed wire instead of cotton.

Then, he puzzled over the hook-snap and the zipper for a moment before declaring he was afraid of getting something important caught if he were to zip up the pants. You laughed and told him to tuck himself in while you grabbed the two sides of his open pants. You assured him that everything would stay safe as you zipped up the zipper. Ahkmenrah sucked in a breath, clearly terrified. You showed him how the snap worked, and once he released the breath he was holding, you stepped back to look at him.

The pants were certainly snug, but they fit him well. He was standing with his legs comically spread a part, clearly unsure about being this confined.

“And this was why I wanted to practice,” you said as you pulled a shirt out of your backpack.

“Alright, last piece before shoes. I think you’ll like this one.”

You pulled out a thin, black, long-sleeve shirt. You figured it would be the perfect balance for a New York summer night that was muggy, but sure to cool as the night wore on.

“This is nice,” Ahkmenrah said as he ran his hands over his arms and smoothed out the material.

“I thought so—it’s primarily a linen blend, something not too far removed from your clothing. And now for shoes.”

You pulled out a pair of black, high-top tennis shoes that looked like a more expensive version of Converses. Ahkmenrah’s feet ended up being a little bigger than you thought, so you’d have to exchange for a size up, even though he didn’t want to admit that his toes were flush against the shoe.

“I promise it’s not a big deal. I’ll bring the right size tomorrow. Our night won’t be delayed. You wouldn’t even believe how easy it is to just get another pair of shoes.”

“I believe it if you say it is true, but it is still difficult to imagine.”

“If we have time, we’ll walk by a shoe store so you can see just how many pairs are readily available.”

“Do I look acceptable?” Ahk asked, biting his lower lip, his eyes shining with worry.

You smiled as you took in Ahk’s appearance before nodding your affirmation.

“But let’s get to work on that hair.”

#Ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah fanfiction #ahkmenrah imagine #ahkmenrah x reader #natm ahkmenrah #NATM #rami malek imagine #rami malek

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weekleegeography · 4 years

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What To Prepare to China?

China, the most populous country in the world at 1.436 billion people (approximately 44 times of Malaysia’s population of 32.15 million people) and also the third or fourth largest country in the world (approximately 29 times the size of Malaysia). We have definitely heard a thing or two about China, with most notable “Made in China” in majority of your items. Production cost is one of the lowest in the world, hence why it is known as the world’s factory.

You might be planning to go to China, and so happened to stumble upon this blog as you are finding for some information on what to prepare before heading there. Otherwise, you could be my friend who read this because you saw me posting, or you just happened to see this for whatever reason. Not to worry. For my first ever travel blog, I will be sharing based on my experience on what you should prepare before heading to China and some things to keep in mind. I will be writing this from a Malaysian’s perspective (I’m a proud Malaysian), but I will try my utmost best to be as international-friendly as possible. Ya know… need to reach out to more readers! Anyways, hope you enjoy!

1) Let’s talk Visa.

No, I’m not talking about the credit card Visa. I’m talking about your permission to travel into the country visa. As of 26 December 2019, all Malaysians are required to apply for a visa before entering into the People’s Republic of China. You may use Passport Index to check if your passport requires a visa before entering to China. The link is right here!

https://www.passportindex.org/

However, the process of applying a visa is incredibly simple. All you need to do is to go to this website. shown below!

https://www.visaforchina.org/web/guidance/StepByStep_questions.action?visacenterCode=KUL&request_locale=en_US&site_alias=KUL_EN

Just follow the process. It’s a very quick process and shouldn’t take more than a week. However, it’s always good to apply at least one month before your trip.

2) Cashless Society Is Real

You might or might not heard about it, but China is currently in a transition to a cashless society. By “transition” I meant like it’s probably 95% complete. You can literally pay anything and everything with the two e-wallets in China, which is WeChat Pay and Alipay. Even small shops, roadside vendors, and markets have their own QR codes which you can scan and pay. There is a higher chance that you are not able to pay with cash than e-wallet.

WeChat Pay

As of 23 December 2019, a foreigner is still unable to use WeChat Pay in China as WeChat Pay in Mainland China requires you to have a local phone number and a Chinese bank account to be able to use. Well, no cashless society for foreigners then.

BUT WAIT.

Alipay

Alipay has just very recently launched a Tour Pass which enables foreigners to join in the cool Chinese gang and pay with your mobile phone. Just download the Alipay app, register yourself as an international user, follow the steps to register and you will be able to use Alipay e-wallet in China for 90 days. How it works is that you will receive a virtual prepaid card issued by the Bank of Shanghai. Don’t worry at all, any remaining balance in the wallet will be refunded back to your registered card once the 90 days has ended. Alexander Wong from Soya Cincau wrote a simple article on this. Tap this link below to read more about it.

https://www.soyacincau.com/2019/11/06/alipay-ewallet-tour-pass-for-tourists/

In a nutshell, as foreigners, just set up Alipay and you will be able to pay with your phone everywhere.

Malaysians, if you have not gotten BigPay, you are missing out big times. BigPay is basically a credit/debit card based on a Mastercard prepaid introduced by AirAsia. You can use it to make payments at over 30 million Mastercard merchants worldwide as it functions like a normal credit/debit card that is managed by the BigPay app. Just install the app, sign up, top up some cash into it and you are ready to use the card. While there are countless of benefits on using BigPay, I will highlight two big reasons to get this card.

i) BigPay offers the best exchange rate when you purchase an item with BigPay card when you travel overseas. In other words, by using BigPay and purchase items using the BigPay card in another country, BigPay offers the best rate and pays to the merchant at the current exchange rate. To elaborate further, the money that you change at your local money changer will have a higher rate due to many hidden fees, but BigPay does not have any hidden fees.

ii) If you are a frequent AirAsia flyer, use BigPay and enjoy zero processing fee while buying any flight tickets from AirAsia. Not only that, spend with BigPay and you can collect BIG points which can be used to redeem flight tickets.

**I am not promoting BigPay but it’ll be good if they can pay me for writing about them. It’s a real life saver for travels.

***But if you are going to get BigPay, why not use my referral code to sign up? You get RM10, I get RM10. It’s a win-win. My referral code is ZW1PKS7ATN.

So what is the bottom line from this long segment? I’ve topped up the Alipay app using the BigPay card, which I get the best rates while able to use Alipay to make purchase in China conveniently.

3) The Great Firewall of China

Took a nice photo and wanted to post it on Instagram? How about posting a status about how you are having a good time so far on Facebook? Want to make a video call with your friend using WhatsApp? Sorry, you can’t do it in China.

Yes, if you still do not know about this, China bans many, many websites that we access on a daily basis. Some top notable sites are:

Social Media platforms such as Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Reddit

Messaging apps such as WhatsApp, Telegram, and Line

Anything from Google, including your Gmail, YouTube, and even Google Play Store

For a more complete list, I have attached a website here which you can take a look.

https://www.vpnmentor.com/blog/the-complete-list-of-blocked-websites-in-china-how-to-access-them/

Unless you are fine with WeChat, which is the only messaging app I can think of that is able to use in China, you will need a Virtual Private Network (VPN) to bypass the firewall.

My own experience to get by this problem is by getting a portable WiFi from Klook to bring over to China. Be sure to read the reviews stating that it can access the firewall. I got it from this website below!

https://www.klook.com/en-MY/activity/18737-3g-4g-wifi-mainland-china/?krt=s20&krid=3c37b711-5b56-4331-6e62-5a33130b4b6a

I also downloaded at least 3 to 4 of free VPNs from Google Play Store before heading to China with hopes that some of them work. China has been actively cracking down these VPNs, so not all VPN works. If you are able to afford a proper VPN, you can subscribe to a legitimate VPN service which will be much better. I have not subscribed to a VPN service before this trip, but now I have.

I personally subscribed to Nord VPN about a week ago and it is working charms so far. I managed to get a great deal of only paying RM230 for a 3-year subscription! PM me to know how or wait a while as I will post a new blog on how I got such a good deal!

Be sure to download and prepare the VPNs before heading to China as you won’t be able to access to the Google Play Store once you are using China’s internet.

So with so many apps unable to be used, what do you use? That brings me to my next point.

4) Baidu Maps, WeChat, and Didi as your replacement

If you are able to read Chinese, then Baidu Maps is your alternative to Google Maps. It is basically China version Google Maps. Baidu is basically China’s Google.

Baidu Maps helped me to determine if it was worth walking, taking the public transport or driving to a destination. For public transport, it showed me the exact route to take, the exact bus number or train line to take, and even the total fare of the trip. As there is no access to Google in China, it is quite unreliable to use Google Maps in China even with VPN access as it does not tell you as much as Baidu Maps does. However, do take note again that it is only in Chinese, so for my fellow friends who can’t read Chinese, you can still download and try to work your way around the app.

WeChat is your replacement for WhatsApp, and why I would suggest to get a WeChat account is so that you can communicate should you need to communicate urgently. There was once that I was separated from my group, and thankfully I was able to find a café with WiFi and used WeChat to communicate. Sometimes, VPN can fail you, so it’s always better to get an app that allows direct communication.

Didi is your replacement for Uber. Sometimes, you need a taxi ride but perhaps you are too used to the e-hailing lifestyle. Didi is the app for you. Works just like Uber, except it is China version.

5) Bicycle apps

Now this was one of the things that I regretted not doing on my previous trip to China. The city of Chengdu has an excellent bicycle rental service and it’s literally so easy to cycle around the city. Sometimes, cycling is the fastest way to get to one point to another, and the rental is cheap.

The most notable bike sharing application that I’ve observed in Chengdu are OFO and Mobike. I did not do this process, but my guess it that the steps are:

1) Set up your Alipay account and top in money as told in the previous point. Make sure you sign up under the tour pass.

2) Download OFO or Mobike or both and complete the set up. Use the Alipay account to link it together.

3) Fly to China and enjoy using the service.

Again, make sure to do any downloading and signing up BEFORE heading to China.

6) Bin your toilet papers

Malaysia is blessed with an awesome sewage system, at least awesome enough that we can flush our soiled toilet papers into the toilet bowl and flush everything away. However, not everywhere is like this, and China is one of the countries that bins their soiled toilet papers instead of flushing it down. As habits are hard to break so soon, we might sometimes throw into the toilet bowl by accident or intentionally because it might be too unacceptable to bin it as it might smell or it is just pure disgusting thinking about it.

I’ve learned this the hard way in my trip, as one of my travel mate forgotten to bin his used toilet paper, and the result was that the whole toilet was clogged. By the time we managed to clear the clog, half of our day was gone and we had to throw some of our plans away due to a lack of time.

It’s real guys, you just got to bin it. It’s much more disgusting to see a clogged toilet bowl than a soiled toilet paper. Speaking about toilets.

7) Yeah, it’s paper.

China has no bidets. So for #TeamWater, you can either shower in your accommodation, or bring wet tissue out in case the production happens outside.

8) Plug outlet

It’s different. Malaysia uses the Type G as we were once under British influence.

[Type G plug used in Malaysia]

China uses the Type A plug, so be sure to bring a universal adapter to the trip. My little hack is that I also bring an extension wire along to plug into the universal adapter so that I can have more plugs to charge more devices.

[Type A plug used in China]

Be sure to always check for the plug outlet before visiting any countries. It’s a good investment to get a universal adapter.

9) Mala (麻辣) everywhere

At least for Chongqing and Chengdu, they take their mala very seriously. It’s hard to run away from their distinct mala taste in most of the food there. They even placed the Sichuan pepper into their stir-fried vegetables.

So if you are not a fan of mala or the numbing sensation from the mala, try to

bring some local food

from your country to compensate. Hard for me to suggest, as I’m usually very curious about the cuisines of each countries and will just try no matter how weird it is.

In a nutshell:

I hope that some of these tips can help you to prepare before heading to China. I hope that you enjoyed my blog, and do share it with those who might need it. It is a big country with too many things to offer, but some fundamental preparation will be great. I am sure after visiting ones, you will know better on some hacks. Do share it with me too! I would love to hear them!

Pack your bags, and let’s get travelling!

Just kidding, not now. Stay at home now as we are in a middle of Covid-19 pandemic.

#china #prepare #travel #hacks #travelhacks

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blackuigryphonvr · 5 years

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#PokemonGo #Niantic #Wayfarer #Abuse #CyberBullying I’m currently suspending ALL of my nominations for PokéStops in South Field, and my local area due to a pattern of very bad abusive behaviors collectively done towards me from a group of local individuals whom I’ve actually never ever done anything, but are trashing me behind my back.

I DO NOT APPRECIATE players ganging up on my nominations and ABUSING Niantic’s system to accuse me of being a Nazi and committing a crime! How dare u! It’s like I’m having my own version of the Warren/Sanders back-stab!

WHO in their right mind would ACTUALLY BELIEVE that I’m a Nazi?! WHO would ACTUALLY believe that I would ABUSE Niantic’s system to harm others in my community?

This has been a constant pattern of behaviors of a number of things dating back to June, and this confirms a lot of things I was already catching onto, and suspecting. This also strongly confirms my #1 suspect, and I already suspect up to 9 other persons as well as alt accounts.

Do u have any idea how much research I put into this spot since 2018? I didn’t just pull this out of my ass. It’s not only historical but prehistoric. There is NOTHING DIFFERENT about THIS SUBMISSION than all of my others that went through.

But I’ve noticed that whenever I publicly divulge where and when I’m submitting nominations and mention it publicly on social media, or the local Discord thread, those locations get rejected for reasons that make no sense at all.... but, the ones that did make it through were ones I never told anyone I was doing.

Before Wayfarer even went live, I had reservations about sharing my intel, which I’d been gathering since 2018 hoping to turn into a PokéStop eventually... but, I decided it was better to let go of it, so that others could do it. I gladly, And freely gave out my details, added info to Google & Yelp and even went to long lengths of so much research to share which maps to check, which historical archives to use.

I noticed that much of the ones I openly shared with others often got stupid reasons for rejections. So, we had to come up with better methods to submit nominations with less room for potential rejections like having cultural n historical information or good photography exposures. But, when they didn’t tell others they resubmitted, it got accepted.

Also, I was very vocal about my plans and wishes for which locations I’d been scouting out the best locations for Community Days, especially Public Parks! As a Mom I care about a safe place to play, free parking, and safe access.

I recall feeding my intel to others, publicly, and being told by a head person (whom I trust) that my info was being shared with someone whom wanted to do those locations. Specifically, South Field And Stella Tirrell Park.

I wanted those spots to become high quality places to play Community Day, but I HAD A STRONG INKLING that these places could become a PokéGym since there was an older PokéStop there. I told people this. Yet, no one bothered. Months blew by, and nothing...

Well, I finally hit Level 40 at the end of 2019 so I hustled to get my submissions done. It took days for me to plan out which ones I wanted, and which ones would be more likely than others to go through. But my Stella Tirrell submissions were screwed. I thought it was very strange.... but I still had 1 that go frozen in the cue. That one didn’t even go into voting until last week. And because no one was actively trying to screw me, it went through and now Stella Tirrell has a PokéGym.

But, also, I turned the Jet into a PokéGym in South Field. I did the work. And it paid off.

But I never told anyone that I was doing those.

Well, someone assumed it was another player. So I asked who they thought did it.... and THAT was the person at the top of my list as a suspect. This person also is very well liked and many people believe this person to be a nice person.... I know this because I also fell for the “nice guy” act until their behavior shifted by June. This person was also the very first local player I ever met at a Raid, and used to say hi to me driving around at night in places I was playing the game. This person has been so overtly passive aggressive towards me, and also tries to play it off at other times like it’s fine. But the cold shoulder treatment is so overt when they show up to Raids. Acting nonchalant but also actually repulsed by me, or that I don’t exist. Or: sure! I’ll help you.... sorry, I have to leave. Over and over!

Well, after mentioning a number of things recently ( if u scroll through my posts) u can see what I had to say about my recent successes getting 2 new PokeGyms myself that were MAJOR. Stella Tirrell and South Field. Any of these local players could’ve submitted any of those nominations but never bothered to BECAUSE the intel came from me.

So, when that nomination FINALLY wet into the VOTING on Thursday Night, by the morning it was screwed.

When I checked the email and saw the reasons why, I WAS FLOORED!

This was NOT just some instance of a lazy person reviewing and just picking any reason. It says “the Niantic Community of Players” decided this.

Think about that.

Multiple people went looking to find ANYTHING matching the locations where they knew I wanted PokéStops and meticulously went through ALL of the rejection reasons and SPECIFICALLY picked to accuse me of committing a crime!

Not claiming my photos were bad.

No. They accused me of abusing Niantic’s system to commit a crime to harm people in my community.

Well, I let others know in my community, and on social media.

I find it to be very strange than within a few hours a different PokéStop nomination went through in South Field. It’s just so strange!

Dude! Just play fair!

Even if I didn’t like someone, Or didn’t approve of them, I WOULD NEVER EVER ABUSE NIANTIC’S system to hurt Another player, or try to destroy their credibility to submit a PokéStop nomination. I would NEVER stoop so low as to lower my self worth enough to be THAT MALICIOUS! I have self respect. And a person that has self respect is respectful to others, and treats others with dignity.

I also wouldn’t go out of my way to try and kick people out of the game, or stop them from ever playing the game again, or stop having access to the Discord server.

There’s definitely been some very bad things done to me that qualify as bullying. I don’t like it. But, I don’t want to kick them out of the game permanently, or have them banned from the Discord server. I’m not evil like u are. I also know that some of these people are kids. But, it’s pretty messed up when it’s adult men. U literally shame yourselves.

Just because I’m getting old, don’t have my own car, am jobless & live in poverty, and I can’t memorize every name of every single Pokémon ever, or can’t memorize every single PVP Combo or Raid Couter doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I’m not a male player, and I can’t change my gender because I’m a woman -an aging woman! I’m not young. I’m not sexy. And u hate me for some unknown reason. But u really need to check YOURSELF !

This was TOO FAR!

There was NOTHING wrong with my nomination. I looked up so much information about South Field Naval Airbase from multiple sources. I have read through so much archival data. I’m so much more informed about this area than anyone else. But anyone could do this if they just bothered to! Like, JUST READ! I’ve been working on this since 2018! It mattered to me. But also, other people were HAPPY and THANKFUL for the work I did. But I can’t write an encyclopedia as a nomination.

I did a Good thing.

Nobody likes BAD DEEDS nor those whom do them.

If u think that those of u whom all actively decided to attack me using Niantic’s system are people that u could trust, or whether they trust u, think again. They will ALWAYS remember that u all got together to attack my reputation, and it will always be in the back of their mind. Eventually, someone will always either screw u, or it will backfire in some way. Their is no honor among criminals, thieves, gangsters. If they can do it together with you against me, what makes u think at some point they might not do it to you the moment it suits them? Or, they will always assume u did these kinds of things.

Just don’t do it.

You know it’s wrong.

Just stop it, and move on.

You really need to think about what kind of person you really are, what your values are, and what kind of person you are vs what kind of person you SHOULD be.

If u have been putting up a front of who u want people to think u are, and I know you are, then u need to get to the root of why that is.

#niantic wayfarer #wayfarer #pokemon go #bullying #cyberbullying #abuse

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