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handsomelyhiddleston · 3 years

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Stormy Sleepover - Tom Hiddleston x Reader

I haven’t written in like, years. I previously wrote for Colby Brock at @colbybrocksmolder and someone asked me to write for Tom so I figured I’d give it a shot.

I hope you enjoy!

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“Did you hear there was a storm coming?” one of your PA’s, Andi, asked you. You were in charge of making sure the cast all had assistants and that their life on set ran smoothly. You’d been working with these guys since the very first Thor movie.

“I got a notification on my phone a few hours ago, but this building is so big I doubt we’d know if it had actually hit yet.” You pulled up your weather app and clicked on the “!” checking to see what the “alert” was. “Oh god” you said, shocked to read that most of the county was already out of power.

“I told you, call me Chris.” Behind you, Hemsworth was chuckling leaning over to read what you were looking at on your phone.

“Ha, ha.” You laughed at his cheesy joke. “But seriously, has anyone been outside in the last few hours?”

Looking at your phone, Hemsworth shrugged and headed towards one of the truck bays.

In front of you, you watched Evans and Tom training with each other. There were various scenes in this movie involving water and a big thing the trainers had been working with them on was safely landing in water. It sounds funny, but you can break bones or knock yourself unconscious if you land wrong.

“Bad news” Hemsworth yelled out, getting everyone’s attention. “This building has been running on generators. There’s no power in the whole lot.” He dramatically shook his arms, flinging rain water on you and Andi.

“No wonder this water has gotten so cold” Evans added, shivering. “It’s usually warmed, but It’s ice right now.”

You sent a text to the director who was in a meeting with the writers. You received a text back fairly quickly. “Let everyone know we’ve got 6 more rooms at the Hyatt Hotel a few towns over for those who don’t have trailers on the lot. Tell everyone else that it looks like the power won’t be fixed until tomorrow afternoon. There’s a whole line of downed power lines that they can’t get to until the storm stops. The generators only run lights and a few outlets and it looks like they’re going to die soon too. The 16 seater van is outside with a driver to take people to the hotel.”

“Looks like we’re done for the day.” You said mostly to yourself, with Hemsworth and Andi hearing you.

“Everybody in.” Hemsworth hollered out so you wouldn’t have to yell.

“Thanks.” You shot him a smile.

“Any time” he replied, flinging his long wet hair towards you.

“I take it back.” You laughed, moving to stand on your chair.

“I know that not everyone has a trailer in the lot yet as we haven’t actually started filming, so for anyone that doesn’t have a home here there’s a van outside that will take to you the hotel that has power nearby. It’s already super chilly in here, so I imagine it’s freezing outside.” You spoke so everyone could hear you.

“Can confirm.” Hemsworth said, starting to shiver a bit.

“There’s umbrellas near the catering tables and there’s a bunch of old hoodies and jackets in the extras costume bay. Make sure you’re warm and dry before you head to the van.”

Everyone that didn’t have a trailer on set left once they had their instructions.

“As for the rest of us, we have to hunker down in our trailers until this passes. I have solar power and full solar batteries on my trailer so all of you are more than welcome to come crash with me if your trailer is too cold or you need electricity for anything.”

You, Hemsworth, Evans, Tom, and Scarlett were the only ones on set that had trailers so far.

“It can’t be THAT cold” Evans joked, grabbing his bag and heading towards the door.

“Scarlett went to her trailer a few hours ago” Tom shared. “I only got here last night so I don’t even have my trailer set up. Are you sure you’re okay if I go grab my bag and come steal some of your space?”

“Absolutely” you smiled at him. “And if I know Scarlett, she’s already in my trailer. I don’t think her trailer was even hooked up to power yet. Her’s was the newest one on the lot.”

“Thank you, darling. I’ll go grab my bag and check Scarlett’s trailer on my way to yours.” Tom replied and then jogged towards the door.

Andi left to catch the van once you passed your notes from the day on to her. “Be safe. Don’t worry about making it back tomorrow. I will email you any further updates I have for assignments.”

“I’m going to head back to my trailer and see if I have any cell services.” Hemsworth shared after everyone else had started leaving. “I know my wife probably has all of the weather and accident alerts on for the whole county and she’s probably worried.”

“Be safe.” You said, taking his offered hand so you could step off of your chair safely. “I’ll grab the satellite phone in the emergency kit and take it to my trailer just in case we need it.”

“It looks like you may have a full house tonight.” Hemsworth Joked.

“You’re welcome to join the insanity.” You teased, throwing your hoodie on and grabbing the satellite phone.

When you made it to your trailer, you were pretty soaked. Even with the umbrella, the rain was insane.

“Thank God you didn’t leave.” Scarlett startled you.

“I knew you’d already be in here.” You laughed. “Tom is on his way. His trailer is like yours. We didn’t even get a chance to get them hooked up before this crazy storm hit.”

“Oooo Lover boy is coming.” She teased.

“Oh, shut it. We’re friends, Scar. That’s it. We’ve never been more than friends.” You started stripping out of your wet clothes and slipped on a pair of soft black sweatpants and your favorite hoodie. It was dark green with “Mischief” written across the front. There were gold horns painted on the hood.

“I’ve known your friend almost as long as you have and the way he looks at you…I’m just saying. I think there’s something there.” She teased, gathering your wet clothes and putting them in a laundry bin that was tucked under one of the beds.

You both turned to the door hearing what sounded like a woman screaming bloody murder. “Let me in” Evans yelled, banging on the door.

Scarlett opened the door while you grabbed a towel. She laughed at him, seeing him drenched head to toe. “It was unlocked, tough guy.”

“You hit an octave I don’t think I can even reach, Cap” you teased, throwing him the towel and going back into your PJ drawer for an oversized t shirt and a baggy pair of sweats.

“I was wrong. I was so wrong. It’s fucking freezing in my trailer and I didn’t realize that the water would be cold because the power has been out for so long.” Evan’s teeth were chattering as he stripped out of his clothes, trying to dry off.

“I think I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve seen you naked, Evans.” Scarlett laughed, handing him the clothes you picked out for him.

“Thank god you aren’t seeing the front. It’s so cold I think my manhood has retreated fully into my body” Evans replied, throwing the clothes on and drying his hair with the towel.

Both of you laughed. You started brewing a pot of coffee and turned your water kettle on for tea. “Well, Scarlett already claimed the couch.” You mentioned. “Why don’t you take the regular bed so that if Hemsworth joins, you two can bunk together. It’s queen size so it should fit you both comfortably.”

Evans crawled into bed, wrapping himself in the blankets and trying to warm up. “Where will you sleep?”

“The dining room table and benches turn into a bed.” You replied. “It’s a full size, so almost as big as the one you’re in.”

“Did you hear that?” Evans perked up, trying to look out the tiny window he could still see through from the bed.

You and Scarlett quieted down. Getting louder you could hear Hemsworth yelling “NO, I AM THE GOD OF THUNDER!” every time lighting would strike and the sky would boom.

“Looks like it’s going to be a full house tonight.” Scarlett laughed, opening the door. “Get your godly ass in here, you crazy Australian.”

“He’s clearly the superior Chris” Evans joked. “Are you fucking crazy?” he asked as Hemsworth stepped into the trailer.

“Possibly. Probably.” Hemsworth laughed, trying not to get water all over the floor.

Scarlett grabbed the towel Evans had used to dry off and put it down on the floor by the door. “Here you go.”

“Much appreciated.” Hemsworth replied, dropping his duffle bag. “Can I change in your bathroom?”

“It’s all yours” you said. “Do you need clothes or did you bring some dry ones?”

“I brought some. I also brought some fun. I’ll show you after I get out of my sopping clothes.” He answered, leaving his shoes by the door and stepping into the bathroom.

When the bathroom door clicked, you heard a knock on the door. “Tom, come in” you hollered.

Tom was wearing a long poncho with an umbrella. He had a large bag with him and when he got inside he kicked his shoes off, putting them by Hemsworth’s shoes. You grabbed his bag from him, putting it by the second bed you had just finished setting up. He closed the umbrella and pulled his poncho off, his black sweatpants and black hoodie bone dry.

“You make the other two look like heathens.” Scarlett laughed. “They showed up soaking wet and screaming.”

“He is a gentleman.” You gave him a smirk, causing his cheeks to blush ever so slightly.

“Is there even room for all 5 of us?” he cleared his throat and laughed.

“Absolutely” you ushered him towards you. “Evans and Hemsworth are sharing that bed. Scarlett has the couch. I just set up the extra bed right here, for you.”

“For us” he replied with a stern look. “I know you too well, darling” he smirked. “You’re going to offer to sleep on the floor by the couch and I won’t have any of it.”

“Tom, it’s fine. I have a sleeping bag and…” You tried to ensure him you’d be okay, but he interrupted you.

“If you try to sleep on this floor I will walk back to my freezing trailer so you can have the bed to yourself.” The stern look softened as he pulled you into a tight hug. “You know you don’t always have to be the one to make the sacrifice. Plus, I promise I don’t talk in my sleep or have crazy dreams. I’ve even been told I’m quite comfy to cuddle with.” He dropped his eyes to yours, smirking.

“Oh, if I must.” You teased him, kissing his cheek as Hemsworth finally came out of the bathroom. “Scarlett knows where the laundry bin is.” You pointed him towards the hamper full of wet clothes.

“Do I smell coffee?” Evans sat up in bed, looking towards you. “Come cuddle, buddy” he laughed opening his arms for Hemsworth who let all of his body weight drop on Evans. “Jesus Christ, you’re a brick.”

You laughed, pulling down mugs from the cabinets and making everyone coffee. “Coffee or Tea, Tom?” you looked over at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed you two would share.

“Tea, my sweet. But let me help you.” He stood and started grabbing sugars for everyone’s coffee, asking how many they normally added.

“There’s pasta in the crock-pot as well if anyone is hungry.” You announced.

“Food?” Hemsworth’s head shot up and he crawled off of Evans.

“God, men are so simple.” Scarlett laughed, grabbing the coffee you handed her.

“You are not wrong.” Evans added, asking if he could help with anything now that he wasn’t freezing to death.

“I think we’re good.” You replied, dishing up some pasta for Hemsworth and Evans and passing them off to the boys. “Scarlett?” you offered her food, as well.

“Actually, I’m craving something sweet.” She answered.

“I’ve prepared for this one” Tom answered, going to the large bag he brought with him. “It took me so long to get here because I walked to the catering room to grab some snacks. I’ve got a whole tub of cookie dough that probably needs to go in the refrigerator soon, a tub of sour sweets, and what looks like a large cherry pie.”

“Pass the cookie dough this way” Scarlett answered. “This man has his priorities straight”, she laughed.

After everyone had sat back on their beds, dug into their food, and warmed up with their coffee or tea, Hemsworth remembered his bag. “Since we are most likely going to be stuck in this trailer until tomorrow afternoon, I brought a different kind of treat.” He picked up his bag and started pulling out bottles of alcohol and putting them on the counter. “Anyone opposed?” he asked.

“What a G!” Evans laughed, crawling out of the bed to help Hemsworth make drinks. “What kind of mixers do you have, Y/n?”

“There’s some cans of soda, some energy drinks…there’s some juice…and then we’ve got coffee for that Bailey’s I see” you answered.

Tom was smirking next to you as the Chrises started making a make-shift bar out of what they had available to them.

“We’ve got to get this started with a bang” Hemsworth said, handing everyone two shots each. “The first one is to us having a great night reunited with our make-shift family.” He smiled at everyone and downed the first shot, everyone else following suit.

Evans spoke up after. “The second one goes to our incredible, gracious, and always prepared host. To Y/n!” He downed the second shot, everyone following his lead. Except for Tom.

You shivered as the second shot went down your throat and looked over at Tom who was still holding his full shot glass, sitting next to you on the bed. He had a small smile, giving you a look you couldn’t place. Quietly he spoke to you “I’d like to add a few things to his toast, but I think it may take a few more drinks to find the right words.” He downed the shot and took a sip of his tea to wash it down.

“Who wants what?” Evans asked, making everyone a strong drink.

For the first few drinks, everyone just talked and caught up. It had been a while since the group had been on a press run or a film set together.

“Y/n!” Evans spoke up.

“Yes, Cap?” you answered, starting to feel the alcohol course through you.

“Truth or Dare?” He smirked. His eyebrow raised like he was challenging you.

“Truth.” You answered, staring him down.

“Hmmm…Have you dated anyone working on any of these movies? Cast or crew?” He asked, finishing off his drink and standing to make another.

“I haven’t” you answered truthfully.

“Wait, let’s not do truth or dare, lets do truth or shot.” Scarlett suggested, wanting to get a few answers out of you and Tom.

“I like it.” Evans said, grabbing everyone’s shot glasses back and filling them so he could hand them out as needed.

“I answered, so I’m in the clear. Hemsworth has a higher alcohol tolerance than we do so I need him to catch up. Who is an actor in the MCU you hope you never have to work with again?” You asked, hearing Tom chuckle next to you.

“I can’t answer that!” he laughed, taking the shot Evans handed him.

“That’s the point.” You laughed.

He laughed, handing the empty shot glass back to Evans. “Fine, fine. Tom. In our last interview panel together, they kept asking you if you were seeing someone and you answered no. You then said that you were interested in someone, but that you hadn’t done anything about it. Who is she?”

“Oh no.” Tom laughed, feeling the alcohol a bit himself. “I think I need to take a shot. Are all of these going to be so hard?” He grabbed the shot that Evans passed off to him.

“I think you guys just need to not be pussies and answer the damn questions” Scarlett laughed, shooting you a look.

“Right?” Evans laughed, taking the empty shot glass from Tom.

Tom scooted a bit closer to you when he handed off his shot glass. “Okay, Evans. If you had to marry one of your on screen romantic co-stars, who would it be?”

“Oh, come on! It’s gotta be Scar Jo! The one and only.” Evans laughed, putting his hands over his heart and giving Scarlett a loving look. “We’ve been in movies together damn near my whole career.”

“We would annoy the hell out of each other.” Scarlett laughed.

“It’s true. We’re practically siblings. Okay, Y/n” Evans rubbed his hands together like he was plotting. “Favorite actor you’ve been able to work with ever.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a very specific question you want to ask, but instead you’re asking questions trying to fluster me?” you shot him a look, trying not to blush.

“Hey, I’m just playing the game.” Evans laughed, picking up a shot to let me know I didn’t have to answer.

“Keep your shot. I’ll answer this one. It’s definitely Mr. Mischief himself over here.” You pointed your thumb to your side at Tom, trying not to blush.

“No, there has to be someone cooler than me.” Tom blushed, hiding his glee by taking a sip of his tea.

You looked at him, summoning the strength of the drinks you’ve been throwing back. “You should give yourself more credit. You’re amazing.”

You stayed in the moment for a few seconds, just smiling at each other. “I think it’s your turn”, Tom said, putting his arm around your shoulders.

You blushed, realizing you had just been staring at him. Leaning into his side, you asked “Okay, Evans. Have you slept with any of your MCU co-stars?”

“Oh shit!” Scarlett laughed, standing up and handing Evans one of the shots.

“Yeah, yeah.” He laughed, downing the shot. “I’ll pick on someone else this time.” He filled up everyone’s drinks while thinking of his next question. “Okay, Scar. Who is the most attractive man in the current MCU?”

“Oooh, good question.” Scarlett thought about it, going through the movies outside of the Avengers. “I have a few different answers.”

“Explain.” Hemsworth replied.

“Well, There are a few people I find attractive for different reasons, I guess.” She answered.

“How about you share this list and we decide if you still need to drink for not picking one person?” You laughed.

“Well, Hemsworth is an amazing dad. Like, you look your happiest when you’re in the messiest, most chaotic situations with your kids. Most dads are the opposite. They’re trying to escape that.” Scarlett explained her first answer.

“Valid points made so far” Evans agreed, leaning against the counter.

“Hiddleston is the fucking epitome of a gentleman. You’re literally everything women want.” Scarlett turned towards tom, making him blush.

You quietly spoke “She’s not wrong” in Tom’s ear, feeling him pull you tighter to his side in response.

“You’re too kind”, Tom answered to her, downing the rest of his drink.

Scarlett looked to Evans. “I think I have to go with…Idris Elba.”

“I want to be mad that I didn’t make your list, but that man is truly a god.” Evans responded.

The game started to wind down as it got later into the night. Seeing everyone kind of calm down and get settled, you walked around making sure everyone had what they needed.

“Anyone want water so you don’t wake up hungover?” you laughed, pulling some water out of the fridge.

“Here!” “Please!” you handed water bottles out to everyone.

“I’m not setting an alarm for the morning. It’s super late and I doubt anyone is going to be back on the lot before dinner time anyways.” You said, grabbing you and Tom each a water bottle before turning off the main light.

You turned on the small light above your bed so you could sort out your sleeping arrangements. You grabbed your toiletries bag and pulled out a make-up wipe, trying to clean your face since you didn’t really get to do your nightly routine.

“Can I use one of those?” Tom asked, realizing he hadn’t been able to wash his face either.

“Come here” you said, scooting against Tom so you could run the damp cloth over his face. He watched your gentle movements, feeling you run the cool cloth across his skin.

“Thank you” he said, kissing the back of your hand before scooting back in the bed and laying down.

You put your bag back and drank some of your water before crawling fully into the bed and turning off the light. “Are you good?” you asked, turning to face Tom in the dark. You could feel his hand reach out and settle on your arm.

“I am” he answered, running his hand down your arm, to rest on your hip. “I want to finish your toast” he whispered, scooting his pillow closer to yours. “What Evans said was true, but you’re so much more, y/n. You’re beautiful and incredibly intelligent and there is not a single person I look forward to seeing more than you.”

“I think you’re drunk” you replied, knowing that if the light was on your face would be bright red.

“I am” Tom chuckled. “I still stand by what I said.”

You reached forward and ran your hand up Tom’s chest until you felt your fingers graze the side of his face. “I’m going to have to thank Hemsworth for getting you tipsy” you laughed, teasing Tom. You scooted closer to him, feeling him wrap his arm around your back and hold you against him.

“I couldn’t have waited much longer to tell you anyways” Tom replied. “I was just nervous you didn’t feel the same. We’ve been such good friends for so long…”

You interrupted him, capturing his lips in a kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that for years” you said, connecting your lips in a second kiss.

“Oh, thank god.” Tom said, a little louder than intended. “Can I call you mine?”

You laughed, trying to stay quiet. “Please, do.” You answered reconnecting your lips.

Tom rolled to hover over you, deepening the kiss.

“Fucking finally!” you heard Scarlett call out, making Tom collapse on top of you in laughter.

“Right?” Evans added. “It’s been ages.”

“Fair warning, I am telling this story at your wedding” Hemsworth said.

“I think our friends are happy for us” Tom said in a much quieter voice, flipping the two of you so that you were laying against his chest.

“I mean, I’m pretty happy for us” you replied, snuggling into his warm chest.

“Me too, love. Get some sleep” he said, running his hand up and down your back as he felt your breaths even out.

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston Imagine #Tom Hiddleston Fic #Loki

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your-highnessmarvel · 3 years

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From Bleak to Bright - Part Eleven

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN: soooo um i think this may be a little tension relieving ;;;;)))

Warnings: angst, language, SMUT (18+ ONLY)

MASTERLIST - SERIES MASTERLIST

PART ELEVEN

** Two years later, Manhattan, New York **

You scrolled down on your phone, pretending to actually be doing something, while you waited for Natasha. A group of teenagers had come into the cafe, loud, laughing, challenging each other to some stupid fight. You rolled your eyes, chewing on some gum, making sure they kept their distance with you. Who knew what those kids had touched. Ew.

Nat texted you that she was around the corner, and to keep from staying a second longer with the obnoxiously loud teens, you all but ran out the cafe. You marched down the street, spring air brushing through your hair. There was a smell between a wood fire and flowers that drafted from God knows where. The sun was high up, the afternoon in Manhattan hot. Many people walked by wearing shorts or tank tops. Summer was approaching. It brought a smile to your face.

But that smile soon faded as you walked by the newspaper outlet and caught sight of the title.

TWO YEARS SINCE NEW YORK ATTACK

You gulped, biting on the inside of your cheek. It had already been two years since the last time you’d spoken to him? It seemed like way longer. It seemed as if you’d walked into a parallel universe. No one ever talked about him, least of all your friends and family. Least of all you.

You shook your head, brushing away the thoughts that brought you back to all those years ago. You shook away an image of a loft, of a coffee table full of leather-bound books, of hands on your body.

“Hey!”

You looked up, Natasha standing before you in a trendy outfit that made her look like a runway model. She had huge sunglasses perched on her nose, pink bubblegum in her mouth.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah!” you answered, trying to hide the newspapers with your body, but you saw how her chin dipped when you walked by. She would surely see the titles and tell your brother. Dammit. You’d been doing so well.

Technically, you’d been doing fine.

Ever since the Avengers had defeated Loki and Thor had brought him back to Asgard, you’d never seen or heard of him. You’d gone to a few rounds of therapy, mostly with psychologists who dealt in soulmates, and after a few months of isolation, Bruce had let you go. It had been a relief to have your phone back, your liberties, your God damn car.

When you’d gotten the keys to your apartment back, it had felt final. But as the last people invited to your “homecoming” celebration had dwindled out, you’d found yourself in a pit.

Everything was muted. Yes, you still saw colors, but without the person behind those colors, you just drifted. Yes, you were happy, somewhat, but whenever you saw couples together, something in your chest burned, like a slow leaking flame. You’d never be like them. Even though you’d heard stories about people marrying someone who wasn’t their soulmate, the simple thought of having another man - except Loki - in your life sent shivers down your spine.

“I heard they got free donuts,” Nat said, bending her head close to yours. You giggled, but there was no heart it in.

She was bringing you to a stupid singles night out. Even though she briefly skirted on the fact that you’d already found your soulmate, she said it was an opportunity “to get out there”.

Hell, maybe it would make you forget Loki, although you highly doubted.

The night went on in a sort of downward spiral. It started off really fast and funny, with music and drinks, and a lot of men fighting to come to talk to you and the hot redhead. But with every passing guy, the more they didn’t look like him, the more they said things that set your teeth on edge, the duller you felt.

Like being emptied slowly, hand by hand, touch by touch.

By the time Nat brought you back to your apartment, you could barely manage a smile.

You tried, once again, fixing your stupid leaking tap but decided against it and went straight to bed. Because of that stupid newspaper, you had nightmares, plagued by a dark-haired prince wearing green and gold armor.

In the morning, you ignored the tap and went to work. When you came back, the tap wasn’t leaking and you thanked your lucky guardian because if you had to hear one more drop, you’d lose it.

The next night, coming home after drinks with your brother, the windowpane was fixed.

You knew something was wrong when your squeaking front door slid on perfectly oiled hinges.

Someone had been in your apartment. Multiple times.

Stepping in your apartment that night, eight nights after the tap was “fixed”, you looked around in the darkness. The shadows seemed denser, more menacing, as if they hadn’t been standing there every night, ever.

You looked at your tiny kitchen. Nothing seemed amiss. You checked the lock, but it locked on its own with no problem. Even better than before.

You couldn’t actually complain about your little home invader because they had fixed all the problems that were slowly driving you to the brink. But you hadn’t said a word to anybody, not even Bruce, because deep down, you knew who’d be waiting for you one night, eventually.

The bathroom light had been changed. It used to flicker all the time, giving you the creeps while you took a shower. But now it opened wildly bright and stayed there.

There. That was the daily change.

You changed in the bathroom, taking a hot, quick shower, keeping the door firmly locked. You felt watched as you padded across your apartment in your jammy shorts and tank top, your hair a wet rope down your back.

The cabinet where you kept your mugs had a faulty knob that had cut you on more than one occasion. It was polished now.

Hands trembling, you pivoted in your kitchen, fingers white-knuckling the countertop.

“I know it’s you,” you murmured, feeling your heart throbbing in your throat. The shadows seemed to listen. “I know what you’ve been doing.”

You apartment seemed to breathe, swallowing your words, digesting them. But nothing came back to you. You kept expecting the shadows to linger, to move, to break away, but everything remained still, quiet.

Your heart plummeted.

You went to bed looking out the window, noticing just how clean it was for an apartment in downtown Manhattan.

You had dreams of him, vivid dreams. You swore you could feel fingers on your cheek the next morning.

It’s when you walked in to the scent of flowers and found a bouquet of your favorite in the kitchen that you truly lost it. It took everything in you not to pick it up and smash the glass vase against the wall. There was no note, but just the fact that now, he wasn’t being so subtle about him breaking and entering, made your heart bash wildly against your ribs.

But you knew what he was doing. He was trying to get to you without the others knowing. He’d surely scourged the place for microphones or cameras, just like you’d done two years ago, and found none. He knew the Avengers, or anybody watching, wouldn’t know he’d been here. And just the fact that you’d told no one about the mysterious repairs in your flat meant everything for him.

You turned, flowers at your back. The shadows seemed to be smiling. They knew he was here.

You were older now, wiser. You knew how to play his little games.

“I’m not afraid,” you said to the dark. The curtains had been drawn in the living room, you noticed, as you made your way there. He’d wanted this to be done in private.

“I know you’re here,” you continued, inching to the windows, intent on pulling them back to shed some moonlight in your apartment. “You can... you can talk to me,” you whispered, heart heavy and harsh in your ribs. Your hands had begun to shake the closer you got to the curtains.

When you wrenched them open, exposing the city beneath you, you could barely take your eyes off the horizon.

Because you saw it.

The flicker.

His face there and then not, your heart wrenching in your chest, causing an audible gasp from your lips to echo in the room.

You felt the heat of him at your back. “I thought you were unafraid?” he asked, his voice rumbling, something vicious seizing your insides with a hot grip.

Something akin to a puzzle piece clicked back into place at the sound of his voice. You could breathe lighter now, see colors more vividly, hear the world around you clearly. All this time, you’d suffocated, been drowning, and now you weren’t.

“I’m not,” you answered, but neither you nor he missed the way your voice trembled.

You felt the warmth of his hand on your hip, saw the reflection of him flicker in the window as he leaned closer, his lips brushing the space beneath your ear. Fire lit everywhere on your flesh as he brought himself flush with you.

He inhaled. “I’ve missed you,” he mumbled against your skin, the sound of it vibrating in your bones.

“Where...” you licked your lips and restarted. “Where have you been?”

His other hand braced just under your throat, long fingers seeping warmth through the fabric of your t-shirt.

“Away,” he mumbled. He slid his hand from your hip to the sliver of skin under the hem of your t-shirt and you hummed involuntarily. His touch was like no other’s. “You’re so soft,” he mumbled.

You tried not to forget that he’d left you there on the floor two years ago, but the way his body fit against yours made any logical thought seep from your brain.

“I’ve dreamt of you for so long,” he drawled, making it seem as if you’d been separated for an eternity. “I’ve dreamt of your eyes. Your voice. The way your body fits right onto mine.” He shifted slightly, pressing you harshly against him. “I’ve not the heart to take another woman to bed. I want it to be you.”

His words sent a strange heat dripping down into your belly, heavy and wanting. Your mouth parted, and the hand Loki had against your chest slipped up until his thumb pressed against your mouth. “How sweet of you,” you said against his thumb.

He chuckled lowly. “I can show you sweet,” he said.

“I rather you practice restraint,” you mumbled, even though deep down, you meant none of it.

He chuckled again, shaking his head, lowering his hand back so it lay lightly around your throat. Then his chuckle turned into a groan, his force deepening. “Y/n,” but now his voice was pleading, like a man who’d been deprived of everything. “Please. I’ve thought of you all this time. Don’t push me away. Not you.”

The last part made you frown, but you nonetheless pushed from him, turning to face him. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes, his face ashen as if he hadn’t slept in a millennia. His hair was slightly longer, curling along his jaw, hiding his ears. He wore a white t-shirt and black slacks, but he was cold as you pressed your fingers against his shoulders.

“Okay,” you whispered. You tried not to maintain eye contact because the haunted look in his green eyes made you sick.

He bent forward slightly, grasping your face between his huge, warm hands. The first brush of his lips was soft, sending butterflies scuttling across your belly. But then he gripped your face, bringing you to him, and kissed you like he was a starving man and you were his reprieve.

A strangled moan left his throat, his lips molding to yours, driving you backwards until your spine hit the window. One hand went to the glass to soften your fall, but he didn’t let up his rhythm. You could barely keep up anyway.

He kept kissing you so harshly, delving his tongue between your teeth, angling your head back to kiss you deeply, that every rational thought in you just went to dust.

You gripped his back, marveling at the strong muscle, bringing him flush against you. One hand went to his hair, knotting in the raven locks, tugging until you swore you’d hurt him. But he kept kissing you, hands venturing to your hips, sliding over your ass, gripping your thighs and hauling you up.

On instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his arousal just where you wanted him, and he spun you away from the window. How he moved with such eloquence as he devoured your mouth befuddled you, but when your ass found the countertop and Loki pressed himself between your legs, your brain fizzled. A whole jar of butterflies now flew in your belly.

He broke from the kiss momentarily to grasp your breasts, kneading them in his hands, marveling at the sight.

“Restraint, Loki,” you mumbled breathlessly, lips swollen.

One of his brows furrowed, but he went right back to kiss you, holding your tits in his hands, then moving to grip your thighs with such strength it should have hurt.

“I can’t stop,” he breathed between kisses, holding the back of your head. “I want you. I want you so fucking bad.”

You squeezed your eyes shut harshly, ignoring the red alarms in your head. Because it was him. Because it was him, always him, and now that he was here, touching you almost everywhere, his scent invading your senses, you never wanted him to go.

He pulled your head back and kissed down your neck, over the swell of your breast, taking one nipple lightly between his teeth. A gurgled moan left your throat, Loki holding your head back, exposing everything to him.

“No bra?” he grumbled against your skin, his tongue soothing the ache on your nipple.

You just breathed in response, your legs clenching against his arms.

He chuckled against your body. His left hand, the free one, slid down the length of your chest until he took one finger to lightly circle you through your pants.

You gasped, jolting in his grasp, his mouth possessively clamping shut on your nipple.

“Eager,” he hummed. He was so warm, smelled so fucking good, that the second time he applied pressure and circled his fingers, you all but moaned for everyone to hear. He teased you some more, licking and pleasing you all through your clothing.

Then his mouth left your hardened nipple and traveled up to your ear, where the warmth of his breath made you shiver. “If I can do this to you,” he whispered, circling your core through your pants. “Imagine how it’ll feel when I fuck you.”

His words made you want to clench your thighs together, to keep the heat and pressure there, but his body was still between your legs. He chuckled, biting your neck, hard, knowing it would leave a mark. He yanked your head forward until your eyes met his.

“I can feel just how much you want me,” he mumbled, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling. “I can smell it.”

You rocked once against his hand, eliciting a groan from him as your thigh briefly brushed him through his pants. He was hard. Wanting. The hand behind your hand squeezed until it hurt, but when he soothed his tongue against your neck, circling your clit, you lost yourself in him again.

“Y/N,” he murmured, chanting your name like a prayer. You were almost there and you couldn’t believe it. You rocked against his hand, biting your lip, and when he saw that, he brought your mouth into a breathtaking kiss. “Cum against me,” he said through each kiss. “Cum.” It was a command.

You squeezed your eyes, grinding against his circling hand, and when he licked your neck, you all but came apart with a moan. Loki quickly kissed you, swallowing your sounds of pleasure as he slowly, leisurely circled you through your pants. Your legs shaking, you trembled against him until his fingers stopped and he brought his forehead to yours.

“Run away with me,” he whispered. “Let me ravage you every night, y/n, please.”

Lost in the dizzying aftermath of your orgasm, all you could do was breathe, eyes closed. You fisted one hand in his shirt, feeling his heart beating savagely under his breastbone.

You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze.

“No,” you said.

AAAAHHHH omg i was so shy writing that little smutty part lmaooo BUT YES MORE TO COME OOOOHHHH (you will get a whole smut scene soon, let me get used to writing smut again hihihihi)

tags: @subtlemalice @yallgotkik @buckyandlokirunmylife @kaz11283 @legolas-bromance @shylittlemountain @tofeartheunknown @feelmyfckngsoul @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @caffiend-queen @tomhollandsslilslut @lady-loki-ren @nathan-no @rosaline-black @abundanceofcarolines @my-own-oracle @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @marvelouslovely @drbaureid @bored-as-hell-666 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @theinfinitenerd @toe-vind-ek-jou @ink-and-starlight @blank-bakabane @sunshineonloki @holaamishamigos @palegoopbearlight @heyarely16 @pleaseexecuteme @athalahild @help-i-need-a-social-life @tapismyforte @coloursforyourportrait @celestialstarshadow @fukyouthink @lust-for-pan @thic-thor @winchescumberholland

#loki #lokixyou #lokixyn #lokixreader #loki x you #loki x yn #loki x reader #smut #soulmate au #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #imagine loki #loki imagine #loki oneshot

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mendesficsxbombay · 4 years

Text

loving you is the antidote | s.m

A/N: I wrote most of this with two badly injured fingers, but when creativity strikes, it strikes! his name hasn't been mentioned in this fic... at all. hope you like it!

requested fluff from this prompt list

17: mmm… you’re warm

18: you’re so cute when you’re sleepy like this

19: I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a hot drink and someone to cuddle with

“And up next ladies and gentlemen is a very special guest, she’s starring in Golden - hailing from India and known over the world is a critically acclaimed actress with awards lining up longer than the line of fans waiting to see her, and let me just tell you that line wrapped around the block!” James Corden jokes. The audience goes wild as he announces her name and she walks out onstage, the cheers nearly deafening as she crosses the room, all smiles and poise in her red bottoms, taking a seat opposite the host’s desk.

“Can I just say something we start, you were the most requested guest on the show after BTS, and there was a damn near riot for the last two days for people who wanted to catch a seat here!” He exclaims motioning to the audience and a faint blush rises to your cheeks at the attention of the audience cheering and hooting for you again.

“Hey, can’t compete with BTS!” She grinned back at him, “I don’t know if everyone knew this already, but I love those guys! They’re taking over the world aren’t they? And, can I just say something, too? I’ve loved the Late Late Show since the first time One Direction were invited as guests and that was a long time ago…”

“Wow, a fan is amongst us, that’s so nice to know! But enough about bands, let’s talk acting,” He moves to hold up a poster of her upcoming film, the sole reason for her to be on the show, “Golden comes out in just a few weeks, and from what we’ve seen so far it’s going to be everyone’s new favourite romcom very soon! Tell us a bit about the film!”

“I’m so excited, I can’t put it into words - Golden was like, the movie of my dreams, it was a story that I always wanted to see on a screen but playing a part in a movie like that was really just unbelievable,” she dishes out, filled to the brim with love for her upcoming project, “It’s a story about new love, the whole process of falling for someone and the new feelings that come with it and how different people address it differently, I think there’s something everyone can take away something from it - there’s something for everyone.”

“You said it was your dream project! Really?”

“Yes it was! I think when it comes to love stories we tend to see most things in black and white, but it’s high time we told stories that address the grey areas, too, you know? Like there’s going to be insecurities, there’s going to be doubts and second thoughts but whoever you’re in love with, you need to fight through problems and you’ll only come out stronger. A great love story isn’t the one where things get hard and fall into place immediately after, it’s the one that’s seen it all, it’s the one that’s worn in and still stands as it was the day it started - so I think it was a really important project for all of us to be part of,” she replies sincerely, nothing but pure honesty and now a little coyness dripping from her words, “And I hope it’s an important film for you, too,” she shyly looks over to the audience, which, listening intently so far, now responds with more hooting and clapping.

“Is there anything from your personal life that made you feel closer to your character? I mean we all do have doubts here and there but I don’t think someone as like you would have to go through that” He adds, and while she knows this is just to butter her up the crowd’s reactions are varying affirmatives. When James sees her shake her head in disagreement he quickly speaks up, “It’s literally impossible, I mean, you’ve been titled most desirable woman in Europe and you’re not even European!” He’s exasperated in a way she’s seen before, but only through her television screen. A light spark is felt in her chest when she realises that this may only be one late night show of many, but she’s finally ticking off her childhood dreams.

“Alright I’m gonna be honest, I’ve never really had very serious long term relationships before so I thought I was pretty much immune to these feelings but there was this one incident that really stood out for me - and even if it did or didn’t help me while filming it taught me an important lesson so - would you guys wanna know? I don’t wanna bore you or anything…” she baited the audience, her eyes glinting with mischief. She didn’t plan on giving out any details if she were being honest, they’d been so good so far but this seemed appropriate. She found it to the correct time to show off how mature and amazing and sensitive he is, and how lucky she was to have fallen in love with him.

“Ah! Do tell!” The host leans forward, propping his chin on his hands as he was ready for story time.

“Well, this was in London last year. We had basically set up camp in the city for the movie for about… 7 months, I think. I had a few days off between schedules, but there was this one day that went really bad.”

She’d slipped and hurt her ankle right before leaving her apartment that morning. Her favourite jacket was nowhere to be found and she’d had a fight with her agent by mid day. The last few days of filming before she got a break were taxing, mentally and physically, but the exhaustion was now catching up to her. Whether she liked it or not, her day was nowhere near good and she hated to have to whine about it to anyone.

“This boy I really, really liked was also in London at the time, and he - well he,” is a multi platinum selling artist that tours the world and plays shows for tens of thousands of people every night, “travels a lot for his job and that would’ve been the last day I would have a chance to meet him. And our relationship was still fairly new, it was just the beginning and I mean - you know what it’s like at the start - you never want this person to see you in your worst condition, I knew he wanted to see me, but I told him I wasn’t really in the mood for it and there was no option but to put this off for another time.”

A meeting with her team had confirmed that she would be working on her birthday this year. There was a photoshoot with British Vogue lined up the same day that could not be moved to another date, and she had fought tooth and nail to free up the date, so far as requesting for them to just free up those 24 hours and she was willing to put in double the work through that week, but they wouldn’t budge. To anyone else this would look and feel like a diva meltdown, and she felt guilty, too. It’s just that - her birthday was always spent with her family. Every year without fail. Her family would free up their schedules to spend a good day together, and she already saw very less of them since her career had taken off, this just felt like she didn’t hold the reigns to her life anymore.

Getting out of the meeting, she texted him for a rain check. The words felt heavy to even type out, this really was the last chance they’d have of seeing each other for another two months until his Europe tour ended and she wrapped up her film. But there was no way she could let him see her in this condition. She needed to go home and curl up in a ball and cry a bit to just have an outlet - but she also needed him, his body pressed against hers and his strong arms wrapping her in, making her feel safe. Her fingers flew over the keypad for a second, pursing her lips to try and think of what could possibly soften the blow, not only for him but also herself.

hi my love, I hope you’re having a good day so far. I know we planned on you coming over today but I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a hot drink and someone to cuddle with, and I think I’m in love with y- she tutted at herself, pull it together. She hit backspace, wiping out the text and typing again. hi my love, I hope you’re having a good day so far. I know we planned on you coming over today but I’ve had a rough day and I think it’s best if I spend some time alone, I’m really sorry for cancelling

“So you blew him off so you could go home and cry? That was your big plan?” James asked, clearly amused and you could only laugh at how silly it all was.

“Absolutely! That’s exactly what it was! I wanted to go home and wallow in peace. When I cry it’s not pretty at all and I didn’t want him to see that but he ruined all my great plans!”

She could see that he had opened the text within five minutes of her sending it, and didn’t reply. Was he mad at her? She would understand if he was. With the way the past few days had tested her emotions, this was the one thing she could take full responsibility for. She reached home soon after, washing herself up and changing into the fluffiest pair of pajamas she could find. She fixed her hair into a loose bun, scrubbed her face free of makeup and took her contact lens out to wear glasses. She’d given up on the week and now she looked like it, too.

She had only just found herself comfortable in front of the large flatscreen in her living room when she heard three sharp raps on her front door. Great. Now she would have to tell off the poor person who chose to come her way today of all days. When she swung the door open, her jaw fell open, too.

There was the boy who took up space in all her daydreams lately, with two big bags of what looked like food, dressed down in a baby pink hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Grey sweatpants.

Seeing her unmoving for a few moments he welcomed himself in, and shut the door behind himself. He took off his sliders by the door, a habit he learned from her, and walked further into her apartment. He stopped for a second, only to place a soft kiss to the side of her head. He rounded off into her open plan kitchen, unpacking the two bags. He pulled out two large pizzas, and a crate of what looked like Nesquik chocolate milk.

“What, um, babe what are you doing here?”

He turned around, as if he was surprised she was talking to him, even with the two of them being alone in her apartment. “Hmm? Oh, don’t mind me, just dropping off some food for you, I’ll be out in a second.”

“Why?”

It’s his turn to stay quiet.

“You said… you said you didn’t have a good day, and I didn’t want you to be alone,” his voice was soft, keeping in mind the energy of the space between them. If she wanted she could just reach out and touch him, make herself believe he wasn’t a figment of her imagination, but not just yet. “I don’t really know what happened… and I don’t want you to tell me unless you feel comfortable and uh,” he ran a hand down his neck, slowly looking back up at her, “I got you your favourite food… it won’t make things better but… you can have it if you need. Got the toppings right as well.”

He opened the lid of the pizza box and slid it over to her on the counter. A large veggie supreme with no corn, extra olives and jalapeños. Just how she liked. The longer she looked between him and the food the longer he felt like he messed up.

“I - I just wanted to drop all this off and be on my way, sorry for bothering you I just needed you to know it’s okay to have bad days and I know you wanted to be alone but I jus-“

“Stay.”

His eyes snapped back up to read her face, catch any signs of discomfort or annoyance or anything that would let him know she didn’t actually want him to stay.

“Really?”

“Please stay,” she whispered, overwhelmed. She rounded around the kitchen island, pausing just for a moment to take a good look at his face and then pushing onto her tiptoes to hug him as tight as she could. If he felt the stray tears on his neck, he didn’t say anything.

She’d planned on camping out in her living room and binge Brooklyn 99 ’til she eventually passed out but now that he was here, she wanted nothing but him. Turns out he did, in fact, think she would ask him to stay, and the second pizza he got was for himself. Sneaky bastard. Also a really lovely, thoughtful bastard, she thought.

“And then we spent the rest of the evening just catching up, I drank like, four gallons of Nesquik, so I think I got high on that. But the one thing he taught me that day was that some things just aren’t in our control, and it’s not correct to punish ourselves for what could have been, y’all know what I mean?” She saw a few heads nodding in the crowd, proud of herself for sharing this story. “I think we’re all willing to forgive others no matter what, but we should learn forgiving ourselves, too. Also - crying is the best form of therapy - always!”

“And - so how did this night end?” James batted his lashes at her, causing her cheeks to flush even though there was nothing of the sort that he was implying.

“Nothing that you think - I ended up falling asleep before midnight and he had to leave soon because he was supposed to catch a flight the next day. That’s it! That’s my great story!”

“mmm… you’re warm,” she mumbled into his shoulder as he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. Her voice was scratchy and worn out, she did cry a good amount, after all, and then they’d eaten, finished half the crate of the chocolate milk he brought after which she’d snuggled up to him, and slowly drifted to sleep. He’d made her comfortable on the couch while he cleaned up after them, deciding to tuck her in before he had to return to his hotel. “I’ll really miss you when you’re gone, you know that, don’t you?” She continued mumbling things into his neck that he couldn’t quite understand, and then pulled away.

Slowly blinking up at him, she bit her lips, hissing at how sore they felt because she’d forgotten how he had kissed her, slow and deep, after their meal. No wandering hands, no further moves. Just them, just kissing, as the 99th precinct continued to save the day in the background. This had quickly become her favourite day they had spent together and she was clutching onto the last fleeting moments.

“And I’ll miss you just as much,” he replied, laying her on the mattress, moving away to turn on her night lights, the room now lit in hazy gold from one corner. “You’re so cute when you’re sleepy like this.”

Her eyes followed him around the room, biting the inside of her cheek to keep any second thoughts at bay. “Can you keep a secret?” She whispered, mind suddenly more conscious than it had been all evening. What could she say, being this close to him caused cross connections sometimes.

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, taking her hand in his again. “Of course.”

“I think I’m in love with you, and it scared me to let you leave without you knowing.”

The biggest smile she had seen all day slowly broke out on his face, bringing their entwined hands up to his lips so he could kiss the back of her hand. “Can you keep my secret?”

When she hummed, he sighed out dreamily. “I know I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

Tears gathered in her eyes for the third time that night, and soon he was gone.

“So this boy you say you liked, what’s he like? Do we know him? Does anyone here know him?” James perks up cheekily, and she knows exactly what and who he was aiming at. She can feel her cheeks heat up under the makeup, thank god for full coverage foundation.

“I think he might get by… maybe you know him, maybe you don’t…” she trails off but she knows James would want more. She knows most people who consider themselves her fans must’ve seen the few times she was spotted with him over the last year. There was a grainy video of the two of them standing very close at a small pub in Toronto, a few photos of the two of them walking hand in hand in Hyde Park while she was still filming in London, the one 35mm photo he posted of himself by the fireplace in her house, the same house that was the backdrop of many of her own photos. She knew they knew. But the two of them had never confirmed or denied anything, keep ‘em guessing and all. The sneaking around was half the fun. The other half was not having the media and the general public up their asses for every minuscule detail of their private lives.

“So it probably wouldn’t be someone we’ve seen before right? You don’t happen to know this devilishly handsome Canadian singer - his face looks like it was carved from marble - has the voice of an angel?”

She tapped her fingers on her chin as if in deep thought, “Nope, sorry doesn’t ring a bell. But it sounds like you do know someone like that,” she smirks back at him, “What say, James, wanna set me up?”

“An opportunity to set up an Oscar winning actress? I wouldn’t dare pass up on that!” He seemed delighted, fully aware that his show was the first and only one to have had her spill any details about her personal life at all.

Soon, he thanked her for being on the show, reminding the viewers to grab tickets to her upcoming film before announcing the next guest. She was brought backstage to pack up and head home, but not before she had her promotional photos taken with James, and in their signature photobooth. By an absolute coincidence she pinned her photo next to her love’s, smiling at how pathetic and mushy it was.

Later that night as she got ready for bed, she saw herself tagged in a video by the Late Late Show’s Instagram account. It was the one of her talking about how “the boy she liked” taught her a life lesson and how she asked James to set her up with interested suitors.

She found herself smiling at the video, when she felt his presence behind her, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into him. She let out a blissed sigh, and felt him nosing at her neck, dropping stray kisses as he liked. He cleared his throat lightly, sending chills down her spine due to the proximity.

“Heard you’re looking for handsome Canadian singers to be set up with, where do I apply, Miss Golden?”

taglist: @shawnwyr @mendesstories @lanallaa @sleepybesson @rulerofnocountry @luvluvxx @wholesomemendes

dm to be added or removed ♥️

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r-ahh-mi · 5 years

Text

Nice To Meet You

Pairing: (sorta) Dom!Rami Malek x fem!Reader

Warnings: Sexual content (slight sub/dom references and masturbation) & swearing.

A/N: Had to google what omegele was but heeyyyyy (for those of you who also don’t know what it is, based on my google skills I think it’s like a chatroom, but with webcams???). Hope you enjoy xx

Permanent Tag List: @lovelymalekk @mezzomercury @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash@amcquivey @malek-lover @rogers-wristbands @deacytits

Being a stylist for the wealthy was a job you adored both because of the pay and because of all the clients you have got to work with thus far. On the other hand when the down time came about that’s when you really felt the quiet and stillness. For a portion of your day you were able to listen in on these conversations about lives that were much more elaborate and more noteworthy than your own; it was easy for you to lose yourself in the client's lives. That is until you headed home to your modest one bedroom apartment filled with silence which really only served as a bitter reminder of how different you would like your life to be.

It wasn’t that you were a total recluse, it was merely a matter of you and your friends being in different stages in your individual lives. Of course, now that you and your friends were in the age group of everyone getting married and starting families, it was difficult to pick up the phone and have a spontaneous night out with a friend, especially when those friends were busy with children and romantic partners... Thankfully, a few years ago you remembered hearing about this website that one of your college roommates would frequent when they were seeking some entertainment so you decided to give it a try. Fast forward to today, this website has become your Sunday night ritual as you comfortably situated yourself on your couch with a glass of white wine and your body covered up with a soft throw blanket. You were only slightly embarrassed that you had resorted to a webcam chatroom as a way to seek out some sort of socialization, but at least it was an outlet for you to not feel the loneliness at such a high intensity, plus, you would much rather be spending your time like this than at some sleazy bar filled with rowdy people.

After a couple (failed) attempts at conversation with a random stranger, your finger anxiously tapped on the side of your laptop as the website prompted you that it would shortly be connecting you with another random user. In the meantime, you worked to fix up your appearance as you tried to maintain some stability out of your messy, tangled hair and face that was only adorned in a coat of mascara. However, before you could finish your primping, a tan face that was mainly covered up by shadows looked back at you from the screen. You realized you’d been caught fixing yourself up as the stranger gently chuckled a light hearted laugh, instantly making your cheeks grow a rosier shade.

For a minute you both just looked at your screens, studying the other and the background of whatever room or location either of you had set ourselves up in. Your eyes moved with the stranger as he moved to flick on a nearby lamp, instantly illuminating his face as you took in the beautiful man in front of you..well virtually in front of you. You were self conscious, so terribly self conscious and hoping that this man wanted nothing more than to hit the ‘end chat’ button so you wouldn’t have to revel in the embarrassment with this gorgeous creature.

“So I guess i’m going to get the first word in, huh?”

His voice was much deeper than you had imagined, but seeing as you had only known the guy for ten seconds, you weren’t even able to make a proper judgement of him, or at least not a fair one. Nevertheless, his voice only added to the natural smolder of his eyes and defined bones set in his cheeks - Who is this guy? He can’t be real.

“Not much of a talker? This may not be a good way for you to meet people then.” You thought his voice was deep, but the chuckle he added on to his last sentence was much, much deeper, but there wasn’t much time to analyze the depth of his vocal chords. You needed to severely get on top of scolding yourself for simply staring and thinking of him rather than actually speaking words to him and getting to know the friendly stranger who was clearly much better than you when it came to talking to people.

“Sorry..” Your voice drifted and you knew you sounded like a timid child which was odd for you. You weren’t the most confident person, but usually you had no issues talking to people, but there was just something about this man. Maybe it was his unexpected good looks; who knows.

“You’re fine. I can ask some questions if that’ll make you feel more comfortable.” You paired a nod with a friendly smile as you attempted to try to save this conversation that was already going down hill before it ever really began.

“Alright”, the stranger started, “What do you do for a living? Oh! and if anything is too personal, feel free to decline or leave the conversation all together. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You nodded and smiled again, even though you were sure words would’ve done much, much better, but your tongue seemed to forget it’s muscular purpose at that very moment.

“I’m a stylist.” Your voice was croaked as you cleared your throat in a nervous fashion.

“She speaks!”

He was funny; of fucking course he was funny. Does anyone need to be that equally good looking and funny? Seems so unnecessary, but maybe you’re just bitter to be meeting such a rare creature, like himself, while, in your mind, you looked like a two on a one to ten scale

“So a stylist, yeah? Who do you dress..like celebrities?”

“Exactly”, you nodded. “I dress all the rich people on TV.”

He nodded and smiled with the smallest bit of hesitancy. “Who's the best and worst clients you’ve ever worked with?”

Of course you could list the two people off the top of your head, but this job was much too high profile for you to be throwing names around and not expect to end up in you losing a client, or worse, your job.

“Now I would tell you..”

“Yes, yes. Go on”, He was anxiously awaiting my answer in a very boyish manor - god he’s cute.

“...but if I did, then I could be out of a job so that will have to stay with me.”

He quirked his eyebrow, “I guess that’s fair.”

“Your turn!” you said almost sporadically, surprising even yourself at your moment of sheer boldness. This stranger was barely working to make me feel comfortable and here you were feeling, ashamedly, very comfy and willing to socialize with this person.

“My turn?”

“Yeah, your turn. Tell me what you do for a living.”

His rather large eyes seemed to bug out even more as he nervously licked his lips before tucking the bottom pout behind his teeth.

“Uhm..”

“Oh, don’t tell me. You’re a porn star aren’t you?”

He clasped his hands together as he threw his head back in a massive fit of laughter. “How’d you know?!”

You shrugged, “I'm an A+ guesser.”

“Are you now? Actually, you’re not too far off-”

“Oh god. You ARE a porn star aren’t you?”

The stranger was mid sip of water as he waved his hand in front of the camera, “No, no - I'm an actor and before you ask, not an adult film star, just your regular, average, plain, old actor.”

“Damn it. I was really hoping you were a porn star.” Although your tone was joking, you were extremely intrigued by this man's career choice and couldn’t help but want to hear more about it. However, the stranger interrupted your train of thought before you could ask any serious questions about his line of work.

“Why do you say that?”

“Say what?”

“Why do you wish I was a porn star? Are you like everyone else on this site?”

You couldn’t help but attempt to hide the blush of your cheeks behind your palms as you pressed them firmly against the skin of your face. “You mean a horn ball dying to get off? Sadly, it’s only partially true.”

“Partially?” He quirked his eyebrow in a very playful yet curious expression.

“Oh please.” You teased as you took a quick sip of your wine, almost knocking it over as you sat it back down onto the coffee table.

“Playing shy now?”

You shrugged your shoulders shyly, moving your eyes away from the screen as they now rested on your hands that were sat relaxed on top of the keyboard.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“I don’t know, can you?” You pressed further, loving the way his facial features contorted just as he was about to break out into soft laughter.

“May I?”

“May you what?”

He huffed, this time breaking out into a tiny fit of giggles as he let the palms of his hands run down his cheeks until they landed in front of him, one crossing over the other as he rested his chin on his arms.

“Alright, alright. Ask me whatever you want.”

“Thank you,'' he replied softly as he brought his head back up again so he sat with proper posture.

“So, what brings you here tonight?”

You nibbled your lip nervously, “I suppose I just needed something to fill the void.”

You knew your eyes had drifted away from the screen and flown to the nearest item you could let your focus remain on, a nervous habit that has always stuck with you in situations that tested your comfort zone.

“I’m going to assume you are here for the same reason?”

He bounced his eyes back and forth to match his moving head as his tousle of curls followed his movements. “Something like that.”

You paused and looked at him quizzically. His words were mysterious, yet obviously hinting that he wasn’t here simply to just chat, but then what was he here to do?

“Can I be honest with you?”

You nearly jumped out of your comfy pajamas at his shift in tone of voice which was much more serious now. “Of course you can. I’m--uh--all ears.”

His eyes remained glued to yours as if there wasn’t a laptop computer and who even knows how many miles stood between the both of you. The eeriest part was his stare. It wasn’t much like the ones you had both exchanged before. This one was much darker; there was something there that you couldn’t quite pinpoint no matter how much you squint your own eyes to attempt to figure that out.

“I came here looking for someone to have some... fun with.”

Your lungs felt as though they plummeted towards your stomach as you tried to take in one full breath, but the sound of his words were making that part a little difficult. You couldn’t help but question his words.

“...and by fun you mean?”

He smiled hesitantly then sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, “I think you know what I'm talking about.”

You did. You one-hundred percent, very well knew exactly what he was hinting at..just like anyone else on this sight, he wasn’t merely looking for someone to chat with, he was looking for something that was a little less innocent than that.

“So..what does that have to do with me then?”

He shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes, “I mean I would like your consent to...”, his mouth formed into a cocky smile as the tip of his tongue poked through his cheek, “...have fun with you. If that sounds like something you’d be in to.”

His words hit you like a strong gust of wind, nearly knocking the wind out of you as you sat there, mouth agape with both amusing and confusing thoughts running through your head. You were finding it hard to believe that someone like him was really interested in doing what you were sure he was talking about, but you also didn’t want to assume that he wanted to well, to put it bluntly, fuck over webcam

“Of course I would be!” You voice was exuding over excitement, making you slightly cower back.

He chuckled a few minutes before his hands reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it effortlessly over his head as he now sat with his tan chest naked for your eyes to devour. You couldn’t help but wonder how he would feel underneath your palms as you racked them up and down the smooth indents from his pectoral muscles. How he’d flinch as your hands dragged lower and lower until they were at the top of his jeans.

“Your turn.”

You were nervous as you began to lift your shirt over my head, hesitating slightly as you began to second guess yourself. Your body was less than colossal and you didn’t want to disappoint this person who was very, very attractive and clearly worthy of seeing a body that was up to his level of “hotness”. As if reading your mind, he moved his face closer to his computer, propping his chin up on his knuckles as he watched you in an almost hypnotic state.

“Let me see you sweetheart.” His voice was husky and smooth as he encouraged you to lift the fabric up and over my head.

Your hair seemed to get messy from the movements as you attempted to smooth the hairs back down, causing the handsome stranger to laugh slightly, but still keep his eyes focused on you.

“Is it okay if I tell you what to do?”

You couldn’t nod fast enough, which caused him to grin yet again with those pearly whites as he nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Show me those panties.”

You felt your stomach flex solely from his words as you quickly stood up from your seated position, leaving your waist completely at his eye level. You pulled the thin shorts down your legs, making the stranger let out a faint ‘mmm’ of a hum as he took in the newly visible red lace that covered your pubic area, leaving just enough to the imagination for the stranger to take in and appreciate.

“Turn around for me sweetie.” His voice was much deeper as he started leaning his entire body backwards into the chair while I slowly began spinning my body around until I was no longer facing him.

“Fuck, you have a beautiful ass.”

I turned back around, checking that this in fact was not a dream or some sort of sick joke and the eyeful I got was enough to confirm to me that he was indeed completely serious and deeply aroused by me. The stranger had moved his palm to his groin area as he gently palmed his visible bulge all the while keeping his eyes on me.

“Tell me if I make you uncomfortable okay? I want you to enjoy this just as much as me.”

“Trust me”, I paused briefly to admire the way he was pleasuring himself, “I’m comfortable with a lot of things.”

He smirked, watching me as I turned back around so I was facing him, letting my elbows rest near where my laptop was resting, giving the stranger a good eyeful of my cleavage which I may or may not have done purposefully.

“Good...now, take off that bra of yours please.”

I blushed as I smiled timidly while lifting my hands slowly to my back until they came in contact with the cold metal as. Quickly. My fingers worked to unhook the hooks as I felt the material that was previously wrapped snugly around my chest begin to loosen, but not totally fall from my body just yet.

“Are we being shy?” I shrugged teasingly, keeping my eyes away from my computer screen as one of my bra straps started to drift further and further down my arm, unbeknownst to me, showing off the very top of my breast.

“Or are we being a tease?” His eyes were squinted with arousal as I answered him with yet another shrug while his hand subtly slipped underneath the fabric of his boxer briefs.

I watched on as he began slowly toying with himself, making my mouth naturally fall slightly open as I watched him, quite entranced.

“I can be a bit of a tease sometimes.” My tone of voice had shifted completely, making me slightly shocked how my body naturally went from it’s normal tone to one that was higher pitched and almost sounding like the soft, but erotic voices of those female actresses from old movies.

“I do like a good tease, but right now I want to see those tits baby.”

Without hesitation, I let my arms fall to my sides, allowing the straps to completely fall off of my arms and down onto the floor as I let my bare chest hit the cold air of my apartment.

The stranger licked his lips as his eyes glanced down to my chest. “Can you touch them for me?”

I allowed my palm to fully grasp my breasts in each of my hands as I began kneading them gently, making my head roll back and my eyes close as I began to indulge in the pleasure I was bringing upon myself.

“If I were with you right now, I’d have my mouth all over them. Licking, sucking, biting, making your body wiggle with pleasure. Would you like that?”

My headed nodded quickly as I let out a small whine while I continued massaging my chest until eventually my fingers grazed down to pinch one of my nipples, making me bite my lip and exhale loudly through my nose.

“Does that feel good?”

I nodded, but that reply didn’t seem good enough for him.

“Use your words dear. Tell me, does that feel good?”

I began to nod again, just before catching myself. “Yes, yes that feels really good.”

The stranger chuckled, “You catch on quick just like the good girl I knew you were.”

Suddenly, I became aware of just how aroused I was as the wetness between my legs began to seep through my panties, making me physically feel my arousal as it kissed my thighs.

“Do I get to see more of you?”

The stranger immediately ceased his hand movement as he pulled his veiny looking arm away from underneath the black material of his briefs. “Is that what you want?”

“Of course it’s what I want, that’s why I asked.”

He pursed his lips, “Sassy, huh?”

“My reply wouldn’t have to be sassy if you wouldn’t ask such stupid questions.”

Suddenly his face began to shift as his cheeks began to heat up to a reddish hue and his nostrils flaring ever so slightly as he huffed deep breaths. “Fine, I'll get my cock out, just like my little slut wants.”

A shiver passed through my body at his harsh and much less friendly tone as I watched him stand up to, letting me fully be able to appreciate his shirtless physique as my eyes traced down the veins and marks and muscles and the v shaped indents of his hip bones; god I could go on and bore you with copious more details.

My attention drew back to his hands as he hooked his thick thumbs under the waistband of his underwear, moving the fabric down until his hard, thick cock sprung out from under the draped material. My mouth watered just thinking of how beautiful his shaft looked as it swelled with arousal as drops of precum made his tip especially shiny looking.

“Is this what you want?,” He smirked, noticing my loss for words as my mind wandered to how good he would taste was I able to properly please him with my mouth.

I playfully shrugged, “Not bad.”

“Not bad? That’s it?”

I giggled, noticing how much he genuinely took my teasing words to heart. “You’re gorgeous, now calm down Mr. big shot actor.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” The stranger took a seat back in his chair, legs spread, cock still glistening with his own arousal, and a smirk on his face. He looked terribly cocky like he knew exactly how much I wanted him right now and how appetizing I truly thought he was.

“Now I showed you what I look like naked..think it’s only fair if I get to see you now, don’t you think?”

My mind fell into a slight panic for a reason I wasn’t too sure of. I’d already stripped myself down to just my knickers, why should I be afraid to discard the last remaining piece of thin material from my body? This stranger was kind enough and was clearly aroused by what he had seen so far, plus, it wasn’t as if he was being a total creep, in fact he was being anything but.

To assist me in my moment of courage, I took the last sip of my glass of wine, earning a small laugh from the other end of my computer. “You’re beautiful, please don’t be nervous.”

The reassuring words from the stranger definitely eased my nerves, and made me blush profusely as I gave him a weak smile and moved the lace fabric down my hips until they reached my ankles where I kicked them to who knows where.

“Jesus.” His words came out breathless as he watched my every move as I teetered my body weight, shifting nervously from my left to my right.

“Now what?”

“Eager are we? I just got you naked and you’re already eager to move on; let me enjoy the sight of you for a second please.”

He smirked as he rested his hands on the tops of his thighs, his cock had deflated ever so slightly, but it was still visible that he was turned on. “How about you touch yourself for me.”

Quickly, I let my hand fall to my thighs as I slowly started parting them.

“You really are eager aren’t you?”

“Huh?” I asked, stopping my hands movements.

“How about you tease yourself first. Think you can do that for me?”

I moved my hands back so they rested on either side of my body, feeling the soft material of the couch on my fingertips. “I can definitely do that.”

He smirked, “Close your eyes and listen to my words, okay?”

“Okay”, I nodded.

The stranger took a deep breath as he gave his first round of instructions. “Start with your hands caressing your collarbones. Gently gliding those fingertips over the skin, feeling the softness as you slowly move your fingers down towards your breasts. Touch them, I know you want to.”

I obeyed his every word, moving my hands from my collar to my bare breasts, feeling my skin tingle with every word and movement he told me to make. With my eyes shut, I could almost picture it was his larger hands giving me such intimate touches and caresses, making goosebumps appear all over my arms as my hands began once again kneading at each of my breasts.

“Does that feel nice?”

I hummed a ‘mmhmm’ as my eyes instinctively closed while I allowed the pleasure to fully take over my actions.

The slickness between my legs was growing by the minute (or rather by each word he spoke) as my fingers danced there way to each of my breasts, letting the much stronger electric feeling take over my body in complete pleasure as I let my fingers pinch at my nipples, giving the pink velvety soft knubs twist and turns that made me writhe and moan.

“That’s it, just like that--how about you move your hand down towards your stomach now.”

Keeping my eyes closed, I obeyed him immediately as my fingers waltzed down my ribs until they reached my belly button. Soon his soothing yet stern voice was in my ear again.

“Imagine my hands are on you, moving along the curve of your body and gently squeezing your middle--fuck, you have no idea how much I wish I was touching you right now.”

I peered my eyes open as my hands loved on my curves, catching a glimpse of the lustful eyes of the man opposite me on my laptop screen as he kept his hands on either side of him, gripping the leather fabric of the chair tightly as if he was holding himself back from touching himself. He smiled so slightly as his eyes moved away from my direct contact so he could, I assume, continue watching my hands as they moved across my naked body for him.

“Now, move down to your thighs. Let’s do the tops of them first; squeeze them in your hands roughly, but not too rough for me baby.”

I don’t hesitate or second guess, in fact i’m more so overjoyed that I'm finally getting some friction in the general area of where I want it the most. Slightly, I spread my legs apart which draws a deep moan from the stranger on the other end of my laptop, I smile as I am very, very aware of why that noise must’ve come out of his lips as I dip my hands down my body to my thighs, giving one of them a gentle squeeze while I caress the other gently.

“Wish I could taste you right now.” The strangers voice was just barely over a whisper.

“Do you now... and what do you think I taste like.”

I watched as the man's hands twitched beside him just before he rested his palm on his lower stomach where i’m sure it was waiting in agony to give in and touch the skin of his flaming red tip that was standing at complete attention.

“Sweet, so fucking sweet like a freshly picked fruit.” My hands continued loving on the dainty skin of my thighs as the stranger hummed a few more ‘mmm’ sounds while I smiled and reveled in the confidence he was making me gain.

“You’re making me so wet,” I boldly whined out while giving my inner thighs a squeeze--true, I hadn’t been told yet to touch myself there, but with a mouth like him full of vulgar words and phrases, I don’t think the aching in my belly would allow me to not seek out some sort of friction or relief.

“Show me.”

Suddenly my prior bashful ways were beginning to disintegrate with every reaction the stranger gave me anytime I touched myself or said anything remotely provocative and, in a moment of confidence, in the most unladylike way possible, I parted my legs fully and gave him the view he requested.

He sucked in a loud harsh breathe and he bit down incredibly hard onto his blood, surely tasting the small amount of blood that he had drawn in the process. “God damn you’re soaked.”

“Told you so.” I bit my lip and rested the back of my neck against the couch, still keeping up the raking of my fingernails against my thighs.

“Can I touch myself yet?”

The man smirked, “Eager?”

“Of course I am. You’ve been making me tease myself for forever.”

He let out a chuckle as his eyes seemed to zone out for a millisecond as he thought about my request.

“Think you deserve it?” He raised his eyebrow in a cocky manor as his jaw seemed to tense up, making his bone structure that much more prominent.

“Of course I do; I've been obeying your every word haven’t I? Besides, I know you want to watch me do it.” I gave one last squeeze to my thighs before I boldly moved my hand to the lower lips set between my legs, letting my pointer finger trace my slit as my arousal began to coat my finger as I begged the man. “Please.”

He remained silent, switching glances between my hand movements and my eyes as I continued to coax him. “I’m sure the aching in your cock could use some tending to as well. I just want to help you with it.”

He scoffed, “Oh, is that all you want? Could’ve fooled me. You seem like a girl who's just dying to get herself off in front of me.”

“So what if I am?,” I shrugged, allowing my finger to dip slightly between my folds, making me draw in a sharp hissing breath as I watched the stranger mumble some incoherent words under his breath.

“Fine,” he groaned, his eyes now completely trained on the still hand rested between my legs.

Not a second after I was granted permission, I fully plunged my finger between my folds, allowing my eyes to close and feeling how truly wet I was for the first time.

“Don’t touch your clit--not yet.”

I whined, but obeyed him as I dragged my finger down to my opening, allowing one of my fingers to sink into me as a loud moan rolled off my tongue. I heard the stranger groan, making me open my eyes to see him slowly moving his hand around his shaft which looked hot to the touch. His eyes bore eagerly into mine.

“Feel good?,” I questioned even though just by the look of him I knew he was already feeling better than good.

“Mmm--mhm,” he mumbled as I smiled, letting the confidence fill me up knowing that I was making him feel so good just by pleasuring myself.

“Can I add ano--another finger?”

He nodded and I didn’t skip a beat before plunging the two digits inside of myself, letting out a low groan in the process as my hips rolled into my touch.

“You like that huh? Your two fingers buried deep inside you as you think about me.”

I nodded eagerly, but before I could agree too much the stranger began to further assault me with his words.

“My cock would feel so much better baby--filling you up and stretching that tight pussy out. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” His teeth were harshly biting down against his top and bottom row as he began taking long strokes of his cock, but making sure not to pump too quickly in fear that he’d cum much too soon.

My hand soon found one of my breasts as I began to squeeze it while still moving my fingers inside of myself at a nice rhythm. The stranger seemed to match my pace as he began stroking his cock at the same speed. I could almost feel his hot shaft in me as my fingers curled upwards while my thumb came to my clit, putting just enough pressure on it for my legs to jolt slightly from the sensitive nerves being stimulated.

“Think you can do one more finger for me?” The strangers request was breathy and nearly moaned out as I plunged another digit inside of me, feeling the stretch and pleasure in my walls.

“Now fuck yourself for me babe. Show me how bad you want my cock.” As he clenched out the words from between his lips, his hand began pumping his cock at a faster rate and he never took his eyes off of me. I matched his pace again and stared as he began to give into the pleasure; his facial expressions making that clear while his brow furrowed and the pigment on his face becoming increasingly more red tinted.

I switched between imagining that his hand was my hand pumping his girth up and down and occasionally swirling my tongue around his tip so I could taste him properly. On the other hand, I was also imagining that my fingers were his cock that was slicking out of me and then slamming right back in. My hand would be reaching up to the headboard to steady my body as he fucked me relentlessly with one of my legs thrown over his shoulder. His eyes would be boring into mine with intensity, just as he was doing on my computer screen right now.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about”

“I’m thinking about you--you inside m--me.” At this point I could feel the bubbling in my belly as the pleasure was beginning to become stronger and stronger.

“Mhmm, and how does it feel baby?”

“Good--mmmm--so fucking good. Fuck, i’m close.”

My words were soft and whiny as the stranger let out a throaty moan, “Yeah baby, cum for me. Pretend i’m fucking you just as fast as those pretty fingers are pumping inside of you.”

It didn’t take long for my orgasm to rush over me, making my pulse thump roughly throughout my entire body as the massive wave of pleasure coursed through me like an electric shock. Just as I was beginning to come down from my high, I heard the strangled moans of the stranger on the screen opposite me as he pumped his cock as fast as he could while small spurts of cum splashed onto his happy trail. Just the sight of it could make me want to go for another round as I watched him till his hand stilled and he let out a loud, happy sigh as his body relaxed completely back into the chair he was sitting in.

I laughed and stuck my three fingers in my mouth, swirling my tongue around them and being sure to clean them off completely.

He laughed as he ran a hand through his hair with his eyes watching me intently. “God, that’s enough to get me hard again.”

“I mean I'm up for it if you are,” I joked as we both started laughing together as the silence began to creep into our conversation.

I knew that this was usually the part when people said their goodbyes, but for some reason I didn’t want to and I was dreading for him to say his parting words. Although we hadn’t known each other for more than an hour, he was comforting and he made me feel good, not just physically, but mentally. He made me feel beautiful.

Just then the man let out a loud yawn as he moved his hand in front of his mouth.

“As much as I don’t want to let you go,” He let out another yawn mixed with a laugh, “I think I should probably head to bed. I have a busy day tomorrow.”

I nodded solemnly as I glanced at the clock, now seeing that we had been talking to each other for around three hours now which meant it was far, far into the evening, or technically the wee hours of the morning.

“Thank you for the good time. I really enjoyed talking to you.”

“Oh just the talking part right? I’m sure that was your favorite,” I joked as the stranger broke out into a tired, small laugh just before pursing his lips into a genuine and content smile.

“Yeah seeing you naked was an exceptional bonus, but I still genuinely loved getting to meet you.”

“I did too,'' I said quietly, resting my chin on my knuckles as I watched his tired, puppy dog eyes blink slowly.

“Goodnight, uh…”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. I like that,” his speech was beginning to get raspier and raspier as the exhaustion from his day began taking a toll on him.

“Goodnight..”

“Rami.”

“Rami. Goodnight Rami.”

And just before our computer screens went black, the stranger waved a small hand at me as he whispered ‘goodnight’ yet again. I could still feel the heat from my cheeks as I scampered off to bed that night with my body sprawled out along the covers.

“Your client will be in shortly Y/N.”

I nodded slowly out of pure annoyance. Not that it was irregular for my clients to show up late, it was just that I was incredibly exhausted from last night's “activities” with a handsome stranger that had kept me up for far too long, so any little thing was setting off my less than patient attitude today.

Only a few minutes later and I could hear a couple voices as they instructed someone on the agenda and why exactly they were here today. I could only assume it was my client and their entourage.

Quickly, I began to wrap up the email I was typing out on my phone just before a deep voice cleared their throat, making me look up at them and insist they give me a short minute or two to finish a work email. However, the figure I saw standing before me was enough to make me drop my phone out of my hands.

It was him. The guy from last night who was previously only an image on my computer screen and now here he was, in the flesh, standing a couple feet away from me.

He had a confident smirk on his face while I, on the other hand, probably had a jaw dropping to the floor as I grazed my eyes over this human being that was somehow even more attractive in person.

“Hi, I’m Rami”, the stranger--er Rami-- extended their hand out for me to shake which I took willingly.

Our hands stay clenched together for a few seconds longer than what would've been normal for me and a new client to engage in, however this wasn’t just any client. He did say he was an actor, but I had just assumed he was an ‘actor in progress’ and working his way up, not that he was an actor who I was preparing to dress for the Academy Awards.

“Nice to meet you Rami.”

#rami malek #ramimalek #rami malek smut #smut #borhap #the pacific #mr robot #rami malek fic #rami malek fan fic #rami malek fan ficition #fan fiction #rami malek imagine #rami malek hc #rami malek x reader

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hopefulfestivaltastemaker · 4 years

Text

September 13, 2020

My weekly roundup of things I am working on. Topics include wildfires, exotic energy sources, speculative energy sources, the Biden housing plan, and creative outlets.

Wildfires in Oregon

Oregon, along with the rest of the West Coast, has been in the news for devastating wildfires that are still ongoing. This is certainly the worst I have experienced, much worse that the 2017 fires in California. Both Oregon and California are having their worst seasons on record.

In Oregon, it started last Monday, when a strong (and unseasonably early) east wind came over an already dry state, drying the air further and spreading fires rapidly. The Portland metro area experienced sporadic bad air quality on Monday and Tuesday, and it has been consistently bad since Wednesday. Today is no noticeable improvement. The weather forecast is for clouds on Monday and some rain on Tuesday, which should finally bring about some improvement.

So far there have been dozens of deaths in the West and several dozen more people unaccounted for and significant property damage. My guess is that most of the damage will be harder to see: the impact of the poor air quality on people who are already vulnerable. These events bring about yet more disruption in a region that has already been reeling from the pandemic, economic hardship, and civil unrest.

I made a facetious remark on Twitter about solar radiation management, but I really have been struck at how much the weather has cooled down. The temperature is at least 20 degrees (F) cooler than it should have been, due to soot particles reflecting sunlight. In my neighborhood, the light-sensitive streetlights are on during the day. I can look directly at the Sun without hurting my eyes. Needless to say, I will need to be convinced that any solar radiation management scheme will not significantly harm air quality before I will believe it’s a good idea.

If anyone is actually reading this, I would implore you not to use the fires merely as a talking point for your pet climate policy. This is something that irritates me greatly. In the immediate term, we need relief and a stronger firefighting force. In the medium term, we need better forest management practices. Greenhouse gas mitigation helps only marginally in the long term. Don’t try to tell me that building a bike lane in New York City is the solution we in the West are looking for. Once the fires are extinguished, most climate activists will lose interest in our land use needs and move on to the next disaster.

Exotic Energy Sources

This week I added an Exotic Energy section to Urban Cruise Ship. I had been considering this for a long time, and I went ahead and did it mainly because I have been stuck on some harder projects and wanted to do something relatively easy. There are no graphics planned, as I don’t see the topic as important enough to justify assigning more work to our graphics guy, but there are a few interesting things.

One recurring scheme is various ways to capture piezoelectricity, which is generated through pressure on a surface, such as when people walk over a plate or cars drive over it. One study in Australia found that with more advanced generators, an educational building at Macquarie University might recover 0.5% of its electricity usage by installing generators at high traffic points. With technology that was current at the time of the study, it’s probably more like 0.06%.

As for roadways, I cited several studies that report levelized costs of electricity in the range of multiple dollars per kilowatt-hour (wholesale prices tend to be in the range of 3-6 cents/kWh and retail on the order of 10 cents). The exception was a California study that reported 8-20 cents/kWh, which as far as I can tell is just an uncritical repetition of claims from the vendor. Also not discussed is the fact the source of energy is kinetic energy from cars, so unless the car is braking, the generators are stealing energy from motorists. We might as well be using diesel generators then.

If I were to make a guess, the pilot project is little more than California burning several million dollars on a patently unworkable scheme because of some marketing by a shady vendor. I’m all for trying bold ideas that are not guaranteed to succeed, but one must draw the line at ideas that clearly won’t succeed or where basic feasibility questions haven’t even been asked.

Biomechanical energy harvesting is an idea that got a bit of hype a few years ago, but now few people seem to still be interested. Making some extremely generous assumptions, I estimated that it would have a theoretical of about 1 exajoule per year, or about 0.2% of primary energy supply. More medium-case assumptions would cut that by at least a factor of five. Plus that doesn’t account for extra exertion required by the person or embodied energy in the devices.

There are probably some niche use cases for piezoelectric generators and biomechanical systems, such as low power distributed sensors and personal electronics respectively.

I even commented on the power from rainfall paper earlier in the year, an idea too silly to take seriously.

Speculative Energy Sources

But even with the above we’re not done. I decided to venture into the realm of speculative physics.

In quantum physics, even a system with zero temperature must have some latent energy due to the Heisenberg uncertainty principle. This has been termed the zero point. So naturally that leads people to speculate that zero point energy could be harvested for useful purposes. The near-consensus seems to be that this is impossible, that it must violate thermodynamics somehow, though I found it surprisingly difficult to find a rigorous explanation of why this is the case. This paper from 2019 is all I found, and even then, it only rules out two of three proposed ZPE extraction methods based on thermodynamic principles. Incidentally, the authors hold a patent on the third method and claim there is inconclusive evidence that it works.

Additionally, there is the NASA Eagleworks project to use the quantum vacuum to develop a spacecraft that can operate without onboard propellant.

There is a lot of interesting physics here that I don’t understand. I was expecting to write a short, dismissive comment for the website, but it would seem that ZPE is a legitimate area of scientific research. Maybe this will actually work for energy production someday. But there is no solid evidence yet, and any claims of a currently working ZPE device can be safely rejected.

Some other ideas that pop up, based in speculative physics, including hydrinos, neutrinos, quark fusion, and the ever popular perpetual motion machine. At least neutrinos and quark fusion are legitimate physics, but as far as useful energy production goes, these are all pathological ideas. I’ll add more as I see them. I briefly covered cold fusion a while ago on the Fusion page.

I expect that when the site is finally done, of the many things people could fairly accuse me of, not being comprehensive will not be one of them.

The Biden Housing Plan

Evidently I am a few weeks late, but the Biden-Harris campaign has a housing plan. The tl;dr is that there might be a few good things here, but I’m not too impressed.

When it comes to housing affordability, the principle I’ve tried to reiterate over and over again is that it comes down to supply. If there are 1,000,000 people who want to live in a city with a zoned capacity for 800,000, then 200,000 people will not be able to live there. It doesn’t matter if you impose rent control, eviction moratoria, inclusionary zoning rules, offer Section 8 or other subsidies, or whatever. As long as the supply is fixed, all these do is change the rationing mechanism from price to something else. Which, it must be acknowledged, is often the intent.

Traditionally, the federal government has a limited role in zoning. That could change of course; the federal government today has major roles in many areas where it previously had a limited or no role. As it is now, I see two plausible hooks for federal involvement in the near term. The first is the Fair Housing Act, where it can be argued fairly convincingly that zoning rules have disparate impact on protected groups, and in some cases intentional impact; and the second is to tie zoning reform to federal Community Development Block Grants or transportation funding, where reform is a matter of insuring that federal spending is actually used effectively.

The Biden plan calls for reinstatement of the Affirmatively Furthering Fair Housing rule, which while imperfect, I think is better than what the Trump Administration decided to go with, which is nothing. As for the second, I momentarily got my hopes up when I saw that they were promoting legislation to do just that. But upon reading the details of the HOME Act (which was introduced last year but I was unfamiliar with until now), I see that the list of measures the bill calls for to promote “inclusive land use” are wide-ranging, and only some of them can reasonably be expected to increase the housing supply. It could be a good piece of legislation, but much rides on the implementation. Zoning reform advocates at the state level routinely underestimate the creativity that municipalities will show in evading the intent of their laws.

Anyway, there is a lot of other stuff here on racial discrimination, energy efficiency, and the Davis-Bacon Act (which probably makes housing less affordable by running up construction costs), but I won’t belabor the issues. All in all, it’s a plan that reflects the set Democratic interests pretty well, has a lot of stuff in it, and would do little to achieve broad-based housing affordability.

Creative Outlets

Like many people, I have been continuing to struggle with a variety of stressful circumstances. I took more time than usual this week on some creative projects, which has helped.

The newest one I am calling Project Epsilon, which for now is a maze generator. I’ve long had a fascination with generative content, and I would like to see how far the concept can be taken, but for now it is really just for fun. It is not deployed, but someone knowledgeable with Python and Flask in particular can download and run it fairly easily. Not that there is much to see yet. All it does it let the user input a few parameters and make a maze.

The other is Repair the Cosmos, which is deployed but hasn’t been updated publicly in a long time, despite considerable local activity. This is an incremental game that is meant to tell the story of humanity from the Paleolithic to the far future. I started it in January and have been working very intermittently since then, but I finally have a burst of creativity going for the first time in months. I still expect at least a few weeks before the next update, and I can only go for so long before I start feeling guilty about not doing real work.

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incarnateirony · 6 years

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Tell me again anti arguments aren’t seated in deeply entrenched homophobia.

So I just found a post.

Like the flaming type of douchebag it takes to make this kind of post, not only do they make it in a critical tag that will turn it up -- without a protective cut or warning -- in a main tag but they explicitly choose to stir the shit by planting it in the main ship tag.

But wait, there’s more!

This person is legitimately out here spontaneously arguing with canon about it because, oh no, Claire might be gay. But how could she possibly be gay? In her few adult episodes she didn’t spontaneously start humping girls. We like, saw her fighting stuff. Obviously that means she must be straight. Why would she happen to get a crush on THIS girl? It makes no sense!! Don’t lesbians have to like, want to scissor any woman that crosses their path? The math doesn’t add up, Carl!

But it gets better. They’ve been compulsively reblogging DreamHunter posts to shit in them, but have some key highlights on their logic.

Check out the anti arguments here.

DreamHunter can’t possibly be canon because if DreamHunter is canon that would make Destiel canon and we just can’t stand for that!!

Ironically they have a “Destiel” tag in their bio but the funniest shit is this leading in with, you know, cramming LGBT down people’s throats, with a whole three boldly confirmed characters in the show. Or, perhaps, either 1 (Charlie) or 5 (+Cas and Dean) by their polar logic.

Funny how that works.

*looks back to Bobo’s book review circa 2003*

“But it never occurs to Goldstein that there is a deeper social problem at work if heterosexual liberals are craving outlets for sublimated homophobia …”

“Again, we have a righteous injunction to all heterosexuals to ’fess up to their homophobia and to get to work and fix it, divorced from any realistic awareness of how much time heterosexuals will ever be willing to devote to such a project;” -- Bobo Berens, Dissent Magazine, 2003.

Given, of course, Bobo modernly clarified that he by no means was intending to give a pass for that sort of behavior or narrative when he wrote it -- simply the awareness that there are those people, so immersed in it, that they are unable to be aware of much less atone for their bitterly phobic narratives.

As above.

So yeah, folks. I echo back to my The Problem With Dreamhunter post, but ironically, find that we did, finally, find one oddball out that’s explicitly arguing with Jody’s First Love comment. They were just great gal pals, guys. No big. Don’t shove the gay down everyone’s throats, duh!

Above receipts minded, it’s totally unsurprising that, with my linked post considered and pointing out the authorial parallels of one ship to the other, that they decided to throw Destiel under the bus to argue too, while unwittingly elevating it.

Huh.

Yeah, fam. Those stupid gay authors in the writing room gaying up our show and shoving it down everybody’s throats but it’s not canon cuz I said so. But I’m not a homophobe! I have a gay friend. I call him Sparkles.

Fucking gag me with a spoon.

Do you guys see the true issue here yet?

These people don’t even see how they’re being problematic.

Let’s argue devil’s advocate. “If DreamHunter is canon so is Destiel,” okay, that’s 5 main-ish queer characters. Will they accept Crowley as canon queer or is that “not canon” to them either? 6? (reaches, wiggles fingertips out of reach) NYYEEHHH! So... close!

How many recognizeable (not one-off, side screen, lol oh look a bartender roles) have existed in this show? 50? You know, counting recurrings like Benny and Bela and whoever. (If we stretch it to include things like “Vince’s Band Mates” which is technically recurring, there’s about 176.) (this smaller, less updated wiki misses some early characters beyond Amara, doesn’t even have the S11-14 characters, and still says 91, but also doesn’t flood out like “Bart’s Assistant”)

Do people realize that the modern CW target demo of 18-34 varies from lower end identifying 52% queer and older end identifying 34% queer?

That means one in every 2 or 3 people in the target, modern, not primeval generation ping somewhere on the Kinsey scale. Having 1-in-15 (and that’s being generous -- do we get to include Crowley?) isn’t exactly shoving anything down anybody’s throats. It’s admitting we exist a little bit.

And again, spare me like “But there were those gay bartenders cupid shot” or “there was the hunter husband episode” that never got touched on again. Again, one off characters and/or the equivalent of greyface NPCs - if we have thousands of those, if you’re pulling on maybe like, 10, you should already realize you’re spraining something from the reach.

Chill. Nobody’s shoving anything down your throat. Queer people do exist. We exist a lot more than Straighties want to believe. But your heterosexuality isn’t being attacked just because maybe 1-in-15ish people might ping queer as actual faces on a show.

(*1-in-15ish comes from the 91 number. It becomes 1-in-23ish if we use the 176)

In other news, this is a clearly straight-identifying person (they pulled “I have gay friends” and not “But I’m gay too”), but let us never forget the above cited quotes from Berens are discussing what Goldstien politically addressed as “the attack queers,” a conservative-leaning demographic often coded to internally phobic narratives which -- while allowing them greater ability to communicate to the phobic edge of the straight audience and open that venue -- he realized he almost sounded like he was defending.

He is aware, for example, of how to deal with this conservative audience, and how to use their method to gain “disproportionate presence in the media” above more liberal methods he personally agrees with the narrative of but to the resistant audience comes across as a “litany of scolding and sermonizing,” but at the same time doesn’t condone the actual narratives --

In fact the very ability to be aware of this lets us know that Berens, above many others, is wholly aware of internalized homophobia on top of politically sublimated homophobia from the hetero community and what measures make progress for them to “accept” things gradually, even if they’re not at all concessions we want to make, which he addressed as a “valuable service,” even if, again, he by no means agrees with the actual crude bullshit that comes out of their mouth.

Both things can be true. People who think they’re being supportive can actually be problematic, but severely problematic people may actually be able to reached by middle ground problematic people in a gradually diminishing scale of problematic, rather than feeling preached at.

And then there’s those, like our OP, who even if they get the gentlest, most easily accepted (WLW is more culturally saturated than MLM and thus welcome [we can breakout-discuss fetishization vs representation another time]), most “inoffensive” to the delicate (because if they HAD kissed, they’d be yelling that the gays were ruining things again by kissing [and of course, without the fetishization, however will the people who want to whap to it feel it was complete?]), simply have no intention of releasing their homophobia, falling back to his quote.

What we have is, beyond the reach of even attempted moderate media initiation via Sullivan and Paglia standard, the OP these screenshots are from, representing this quote. Right here.

Also: We can’t even remotely pretend like it’s just the oppressive straighties. You, me, all of us -- Berens included -- know sometimes this even spawns from within the LGBT community -- such as addressed by Goldstein involving Paglia and Sullivan.

Same shit different verse every time, though.

And

But hey, OP? If you ever read this, (and I definitely left you chance to with my reblog of one of your posts with a link to this) which I kind of doubt you’ll ever get this far even if you find it -- because somewhere between being called out on your blatant phobia and me putting my gay all over your feed --

Before you ever try to tell anyone what is or isn’t canon, most explicitly an author that already told us before the fated line that it’s what he wanted us to see (ironically by using his and Dabb as his co author’s previously penned moments for the other LGBT ship you tried to throw under the bus as direct mirrors), you might want to do a quick tap in and make sure that author didn’t psychically write an article 15 years prior pointing out how your opinion makes you a raging douchebag that has proven to be intentionally non negotiable.

Ja?

Ja.

Because you don’t realize it but you guys are literally all the same from literally something being diagnosed as problematic no matter how people try to reach out to you fifteen years ago. And that guy is in our author room. Penning both the Destiel elements you tried to bus, DreamHunter, and confirming his intentions.

#supernatural #destiel #dreamhunter #anti antis #lgbt #coded phobia

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cloudynames · 5 years

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Locker Rooms

hello everyone!! how are you all doing?? im so glad to be updating after such a stressful week aha~ i hope i can get out another update quicker than this one. thank you all for waiting. this is my very very late present since it was johnny birthday a few days ago!! johnctzens how yall feelin?? hehe

Word Count: 6,492

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Swearing

lets get it

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N City High, one of the most respectable schools in all of Seoul, was adorned in the middle of the bustling city. With daughters and sons of millionaires attending the pristine, three story building, all eyes from every social media outlet were focused on the high school. The most brilliant and athletic prodigies were born from this school, some people even being scouted for colleges before eleventh grade. To attend this school meant your future was secured. Everyone was rich and fell on different ends of the spectrum. Either people cared way too much or didn’t give a shit. Of course, why worry during in school when you’ll inherit your father’s business?

Unlike your counterparts, you cared about the mark you would leave upon the school. Perhaps you cared a bit too much. A bit detrimental to your health even. Your grades were spectacular, a child genius. However, with one blessing means one affliction.

You were dirt poor.

Yes, you were the poor kid at school and were the highlight of whispers. Tattered uniform and scuffed shoes screamed that you weren’t wealthy. People didn’t outwardly mock you but boy, did they stare. You could guess that you weren’t going to inherit your father’s business due to the fact that there was no business.

The principal noticed this with the unpaid bills and your parents rejecting each call from the security. He didn’t think you would become a problem child but as you didn’t turn in any checks to the front office, he become a bit troubled. With a bit of of devising, he formulated a plan to be replenished from all the missing dollars.

One rainy afternoon, a messenger knocked on the doorframe of your boisterous classroom, everyone watching as she handed the note to your teacher.

“(Y/N)! Main office, please.” Your teacher commanded without a second though, returning to play games on his laptop.

Dragging yourself up from your seat and making your way down to the front office, your mind scrambled for anything that could’ve happened. If they tell you one more time that you haven’t been paying the tuition, you were going to be pissed. It wasn’t news that you were struggling with tuition but the staff needed to bring that up to your parents, not yourself, a child. Hopefully they wouldn’t punish you like last time when they locked up your grades from being viewed and you had no clue as to what your grade was in each class. That would truly fuck up both your parents and yourself.

Plastering a fake smile on your face, you buzzed the front office to let your principal know you were waiting. A click sounds and the huge, wooden doors swing open.

“Hi, Mr. Kim.” You say sweetly, taking the seat with the least amount of rips from aggravated students beforehand. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello, (y/n)! I’m so glad you could come down right away. Let’s get straight down to business. Your tuition—“

Here we go.

Ears burning red, you glare into his eyes and reply in a snobby voice, “I cannot do anything about the tuition. I am a child who does not pay the bill. Please email or call my parents.” You’ve been preparing this response since you were called to the voice.

He returns the scowl with the same icy tone as yours. “Well, maybe if your parents would pick up the damn phone for once. Then, maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation?”

Your hands gripped onto the chair handles tightly, knuckles turning white. How dare he offend your parents? This was escalating rapidly and you weren’t sure if you were going to leave the room still attending N City High.

“So what’s the point in requesting my presence? To mock me?” You bite back. There was no way you were going down without a fight. You’re not all bark.

His expression softens and he places a hand on his table, trying to give himself a calmer appearance. Having been in here so many times, by the furrow of his eyebrows showed his true emotions. He was furious.

“I have a compromise. We want to raise more school spirit and want a bigger crowd showing up at sporting events. The committee and I thought the best option would be a mascot. We would take off a large chunk of your tuition if you would accept this offer.”

Was he a fool? Sacrifice your integrity for a few dollars off of your tuition? Naive and stupid was this man. On the other hand, a few dollars off would make a grand difference to your family. Maybe your parents wouldn’t have to work overtime so often…

“How much is ‘a large chunk’?” If you play your cards right, you might be able to bargain off a larger amount. It was a dangerous game but a risk worth taking.

He rubs the back of his neck, not expecting this question. A pauses for a second then resumes, “All of it.”

Sacrificing your integrity was worth it.

Thus, you became the mascot for the school. Practice wasn’t surprisingly difficult. Working with the gymnastics coach soon got you to be pretty flexible and cheerful, even without showing your face to the crowd.

The mascot was an ugly, green monster looking-parrot. Being the first ever mascot of N City High meant it had only been used by you and you only, but it got disgusting real fast. Inside of the costume felt like it was a desert and you wouldn’t dare to take off the head during a game so instead you suffered immensely. From all the games built up, it soon smelled like sweat and a bad perfume you tried to use to mask the musk. Dreadful was the most appropriate word to describe your feelings but it was all to help your parents in the end.

Not exactly a perfect high school fairytale, huh? With grades and an abundant amount of time dedicated to cheering at sporting events, life became a drag and tiresome.

High school would be hell if it weren’t for Seo Johnny, a sweet, brown-eyed boy who was about as tall as a cyclops. He was the only thing you enjoyed about the hellhole. If he didn’t talk to you that day on a dare, who knows where either of you would be?

One afternoon during break during ninth year, a boy walked over to you and slammed a chocolate milk on your desk. Dazed, you looked up and saw Johnny glancing down at you, clearly embarrassed. Slowly, you grab the milk and puncturing a hole at the top, you ask, “Why did you give me a chocolate milk?”

He stares at you for for a few seconds and then whips his head around to the door. A group of boys were gathered, giggling and cracking jokes at seeing Johnny be so nervous. He glares daggers at them, making the group hide once more behind the wall. Sighing, he sits in the desk in front of you.

“My friends wanted me to talk to a girl on a dare. I’m sorry but I hope you take the chocolate milk as compensation. It’s really stupid, I know.” He confesses, playing with the ends of his blazer. Now that he’s up close, you notice more of his features. His hair was a deep, brown color but you could tell by scanning the roots that it was dyed. Johnny was the student who was always making jokes during class and him being so awkward had you giggling under your breath.

He raises his eyebrow, perplexed. Had he done something unintentionally funny?

“Well, I won’t take it as an insult since I know you’re a friendly guy. Just letting you know, I like strawberry milk better than chocolate.”

Once the next day rolled over, a strawberry milk was placed on your desk and from that moment, Johnny and you had been inseparable. History had been made and the future shined bright for the both of you.

You witnessed Johnny through all his trials in life. Dreadfully, you were there when he got his first girlfriend and comforted him throughout the night when she broke up with him. When Johnny had his first alcoholic drink ever, you drove him home while he threw up in your car. Cleaning up the mess was not how you wanted to spend your Friday night but since it was for Johnny, it had been worth it.

Flash forward to present time, you listened to Johnny whine while shoving the school’s newspaper in your face.

“(Y/N)! I’m just so curious. Who do you think they are?”

Rolling your eyes, you played with your pen, dissembling it and then fixing it. A downfall to being Johnny’s favorite friend was that you were the one taking the brunt force of his unhealthy obsession with the mascot. Johnny would spend more time creating theories for the mascot rather than study, much to your dismay. But, you didn’t mind too much. The way his eyes lit up while talking about something he liked ignited a flame of passion in your stomach. You would never tell him, but Johnny is really cute.

“Johnny, I really don’t know and I can’t force myself to care about.”

He pouts and huffs dramatically, wishing to receive a different answer from you. “Well, I think it’s Lucas. That kid has so much energy so embodying the mascot would fit him!”

Laughing nervously, you reply, “Have you seen how tall Lucas is? Definitely not. Our mascot is shorter.”

He smirks and teases lightly, “Oh, so now you want to contribute to the conversation?”

“Theory-crafting, actually. A conversation has more meat to it.” You fire back, pointing the pen at Johnny.

Johnny sighs, a sign of him giving up. “Hey, are you gonna go to the first volleyball game? I’ll be playing!”

You shoot him a sad grin and lie through your teeth, “I’m sorry, you know I need to study. And you know how strict my parents are.”

As a matter of fact, you needed to be at their first game tonight. The latter, however, was a lie. It was rare if you could catch any game without being in that stupid costume. Johnny would have to choke it out of you for a confession about your double identity. Seeing Johnny’s sorrowful expression, however, rips apart your heart. It sucked. You never had time off from being the mascot and never have time to cheer on Johnny as yourself, not the mascot.

“You never even study though!” He complains, flailing his hands and legs around dangerously. Johnny seriously has to consider how big he is in retrospect of the world. He might hit you one of these days and he would have to experience true pain from you.

“Oh yeah? Who set up the principle foundation of atoms in Ancient Greek?”

Johnny remains silent until he finally answers, “Hades?”

“Oh my god.” You mutter, rubbing your temples. “You’re mixing up physics and literature!”

Johnny laughs and soon has you laughing as well.

As long as Johnny never finds out your dirty, this friendship will last even with all the tribulations.

Later that night, you hyped yourself up behind the bleachers while avoiding the moldy food and pair of panties the janitor hasn’t cleaned up yet. Despite cheering for three years, every game worried you. People paid attention, too much attention, to you. It’ll be plastered all over social media if it seemed like everyone’s favorite, lovable mascot was feeling less energetic than usual. Anything could happen, even if you’re one of the best schools. A reverse sweep might ensure and you’ll need to be ready to boost the crowd’s morality. To be prepared for anything gives your school the upperhand. Keeping a steady flow of your tuition being paid was also a plus.

The obnoxious buzzer rings and you take one final, deep breath before running onto the court. You waved wildly at your school’s crowd, sending kisses and hearts to everyone. A few of the girls mocked you, fanning themselves off. You shrugged off the mockery, not insulted at all. As long as they were enjoying the show then they’ll be cheering the entire night. Getting into position, you started your signature dance. Rallies grew in volume as you ended perfectly and skipped back to the sidelines, watching the volleyball game start. Huffing laboriously in your suit, your eyes scanned for Johnny.

Adorned in his neon green jersey and shorts, he displayed his number to the referee. While turned around, he glanced at you, giving you a quick wink before groaning loudly. Seems like they lost the coin flip.

Still, that little shit winked at you!

The referee blows the whistle and the opposing team lobs over the volleyball, a float serve. Fortunately, your setter dives just in time to launch the ball into the air..

“Setter out!” He yells, backing away to let his team handle the ball.

Their middle back steps to the ball and numerous voices yell out different numbers. He ends up setting the ball to the middle of the net, position four. Johnny, their ace and middle blocker, starts his approach and slams the ball, a loud smack following the ball as it slammed onto the floor.

From the sidelines, you jump up and rile the crowd. If Johnny can keep this up, the team would win in no time.

The opposing team never got past ten points causing your team’s supporters to mock and provoke their supporters. Crowd control was enforced, but nobody listened. The night ended in a victory, everyone rushing out of the bleachers to fire up the volleyball team on their first win. Silently, you snuck out and made your way to the locker room.

Locking the room behind you, you removed yourself from the suit. Sweat stuck to your skin as you gazed at your reflection. Another mindless, boring night. At least Johnny was entrilled about their first win. Whenever you saw his delighted face, it seemed like you could breathe a little easier and could keep cheering for a while longer, even if it tired you out greatly.

Slipping on your casual clothes, you escaped through the back and drove home, never thinking about the game.

If only you could support Johnny in public, you wishfully thought. It would help your situation immensely. You would shower him in heartfelt compliments, praising him on how well he did during the game. Due to your own pride, you could never tell him. Maybe one day if you get over yourself but you didn’t feel like making yourself both the poor kid and the weirdo of the school. Especially being the best friend of one of the most popular guys at the school. You would be destroying yourself and him.

‘Sorry, Johnny.’ You think while adjusting the mirror. ‘I’ll cheer you on proudly in the future. I promise.’

Some promises were never made to be kept. Some promises are created just for the moment.

To make up for missing Johnny’s first game, you showed up to his practice the next day. There were no scheduled games you had to cheer for so everything was working out well.

For now.

Johnny kept staring at you throughout the practice, waving at you or making a fool of himself with silly faces. Giggling to yourself, you worked on some homework and studied a bit as well. Might as well get something out of this practice while waiting for Johnny to finish up.

The slam of the gym doors disturbs you, promptly shutting your book in shock. Two boys stumble in, laughing boisterously and greeting everyone on the volleyball team. Clearly this was a daily occurrence as you take notice how their coach doesn’t even move to repremiend the boys. Speaking of the boys, they head over exactly to where you were seated on the bleachers and panic builds up within you. There wasn’t anywhere to go especially since it’ll look rude if you fled the situation. You really didn’t feel like interacting with anyone though. Time to suck it up.

“Hey, (y/n)! That’s your name, right?” One of them greets, a boy with neat light-caramel hair greets.

Shyly smiling, “Yes, that’s my name. And you might be…?”

“Yuta! And this is Taeyong, we’re friends with Johnny.”

With Johnny’s name reverberating in the air, your anxiety subsides. If they’re close friends with Johnny, close enough to come to his practice, then they’re most likely decent people. Johnny wasn’t one to make terrible friends.

“Ah, that’s great!” You genuinely exclaim.

“We told Johnny we would be here to support him but honestly we’re both here for Winwin.” Yuta confesses, setting his lacrosse gear sprawled out along the bleachers. You nervously chuckled in response. Who the hell was Winwin?

“I’m only here because Winwin promised to help quiz me on World History.” Taeyong grumbled, watching the fake match intently.

Slowly, the three of you slipped into a comfortable conversation. It was relaxing and refreshing. Usually, Johnny would make conversation with you but the two boys were great fillers. They listened carefully as you told them stories and understood your humor as well. Occasionally, you threw a glance to Johnny and he caught your eye every time but quickly turning his head away every time. What got into him? Soon the practice was over and after their final cheer, Johnny ran up to you, sweatier than a sumo wrestler. His hands tried to grab you in an embrace while you squealed.

“Don’t touch me!” You yelp, running behind Taeyong. Taeyong groans as he attempts to push you towards Johnny, not willing to deal with your shenanigans.

Johnny chuckles. “Well, all three of you got pretty friendly, huh?”

Yuta strolls up to you and throws an arm around your shoulder, smirking and with a teasing tone, “Yes, we did actually. (Y/N) should just confess her undying love to me already.” At this point, Winwin also arrived to the scene, stifling a giggle behind his hand. Turns out Winwin was their setter.

You fake gag, not missing a beat when you notice how Johnny’s cheeks flare up. Either in jealousy or embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. Johnny was a master when it came to hiding his feelings.

“Well, why don’t we all go get some boba to celebrate this friendship?” Johnny says, giving a bright grin to everyone. Yuta whoops in delight while Taeyong and Winwin are already halfway out the door.

Now, this would be exciting.

A few weeks into spring had you doubled over in laughter and a constant heat left on your cheeks. Taeyong and Yuta were hilarious to say the least. Surprisingly, they weren’t snobby jerks like most the people at your school. Both of them had a heart of gold towards anyone. They helped cured that springtime sadness that came around every year due to Johnny being at practice more often. Without thinking of Johnny much, there was no room to feel blue. You occasionally missed his presence but Taeyong, Yuta, and Winwin made sure you weren’t too down.

It soon become routine that if you didn’t have to cheer that day, the three of you would head down to the gym and watch volleyball practice. Yuta and Taeyong didn’t know your secret and every time you would be questioned about why you couldn’t join them, you would shrug in response and respond with, ‘my parents don’t want me going out every day!’ They immediately shut up every time.

Today the boys were especially talkative, topics ranging from school to hobbies to love like rapidfire. Barely being able to hang onto the conversation, your mind drifted to the volleyball court. Johnny was breathing heavily, wiping away the sweat on his forehead. He glances at you and turns away, talking to a team member.

Frowning, you look down. Johnny never gapes at you and doesn’t wave immediately afterwards. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but your heart still spiderwebbed into tiny cracks. Johnny, the sweetest boy you knew, was ignoring you. The more time spent into analyzing his recent actions, the more you became worried. Johnny has been acting strangely around you recently.

During class you would slide notes to him and he would just leave them upon his desk, focused on copying the notes that had been left up previously for the past ten minutes. Johnny was anything but slow. You tried texting him later that day, the only response being left was a ‘Read at 4:57 P.M.’

Throwing your head back, you inaudibly groan. How could you be so stupid? Johnny hasn’t been himself for a while. Perhaps the title of best friend should be ripped from you since you can’t even recognize when Johnny was acting strangely. What could it be? Did someone hurt him? Was he sad? Your thoughts were slowly spiralling out of control, not realizing that practice was officially over.

“(Y/N), you good?” Johnny asks, carrying his schoolbag and his volleyball bag.

Knocked out of your haze, you nod, laughing awkwardly. When was the last time you felt awkward around Johnny?

He nods as well, halfway out the gym doors when you yell.

“Johnny! Let’s go get some ice cream. Without the boys.”

Johnny and you were close. There has never been a dull, awkward moment between the two of you. Sharing the sidewalk and quietly eating your ice cream has never made you want to crawl into a hole and die until now. Johnny barely spoke on your walk, only commenting on how he got extra sprinkles than usual. Silence suffocated the air and the smell of Johnny’s fading cologne has your chest tightening uncomfortably. Every other time you had been with Johnny, this scent has comforted you. But at this current moment, you wanted nothing more than to push him away.

“(Y/N)?” He asks, cutting the silence like a knife. “A-Ah, yeah Johnny?”

“Do you like Yuta or Taeyong?”

Your heart drops. Is this was he was so dejected over? If so, it was a foolish reason. As best friends, you made sure to tell each other everything, no matter how small. The two of you shared what you had for breakfast or the latest gossip you overheard your mom explaining so for him to accuse you of breaking such a precious promise hurt. It was childish, but it was your thing. Johnny and you both owned it. It was nobody else’s except yours. That’s what being best friends meant.

Your feet stopped and your chest filled with sick, dense, air as your teeth grit together tightly. How uncalled for.

“Really Johnny?”

His brows furrowed and he says accusingly, “What?”

You laugh mockingly, shaking your head and staring into Johnny’s brown eyes, “You really don’t know.”

With a flushed face, Johnny raises his voice. “What do you mean?”

This was an ugly site. On the sidewalk in the middle of the evening were two teenagers yelling at each other. Neither would give in and forget what had happened. If a passerby witnessed this, they probably would walk hurriedly along, not wanting to see the outcome.

“I’ve been your best friend since ninth year. I would never hide something like that!” You yell, frustrated. Johnny was an idiot at times, especially when it came to people. He could never recognize the emotions of others and how his words may possibly hurt them. Anger erupts in your chest, leaving you with hot insults dancing on your tongue. For him to think that you would betray him so easily cut you and left you with a nasty scar.

“You say that when you lie about how you always need to study and that your parents aren’t strict. I’ve met them, (y/n). They let you practically do whatever the hell you want!” He accuses, any regard for causing a public commotion vanishing.

He was right. You were lying about your situation. Why? Johnny would accept you either way, mascot or not. Is it because it’s embarrassing? A friendship built upon lies and lies? Would he stop being your friend?

Yes, that’s what scared you the most. Would Johnny, the popular, beloved Johnny, still want to be friends with the dirt poor (y/n)? Foolish was Johnny’s middle name. He would sacrifice his good name and reputation for you. You couldn’t stand to see him fall from such grace to land where you remain. Selfless, a cruel form of selfless, was your middle name.

“You know what? Forget it.”

Johnny’s sharp voice snapped you out of his trance and he turned sharply, walking away from you. His shoulders shook and his head was down. You knew he was crying. He is such a crybaby.

No tears stained your face that walk home or that night. The only stain that remained was the sticky, vanilla bean ice cream left on your hand when you crushed it out of despair.

Oh, how it resembled your heart all too well.

———————--------------

“Why are you so mopey?” Yuta voices, sitting down at your desk as Winwin sits adjacent to you, pretending to read his textbook but is really engrossed within your conversation.

“Don’t want to talk about it.” You mumble, hiding your face in your desk and rubbing at your eyes relentlessly. Although you didn’t cry, you stayed up all night regretting your fight with Johnny.

A hand taps you on your shoulder and you see Taeyong with a chocolate milk. Your heart hammers within your chest and you think back to Johnny and how you would share a milk almost every day.

He would know to get you strawberry milk.

Tears welled up in your eyes and your lip quivered seeing the carton. This scene was all too familiar. Yuta quickly rushed to shush you as Winwin waved his hands in front of your eyes to keep tears from falling.

After calming you down promptly, Taeyong begins, “Why don’t you just talk to him?”

It was dangerous threading these waters. How could you work your way around it without saying, ‘by the way, I’m the mascot, the embarrassment to our school!’ If it were that simple, you wouldn’t have almost cried in front of the boys!

“I can’t…” You whisper, dejected and wishing to drift to a different plane of existence. “It’s too difficult to explain what’s going on.” You trail off, hoping they wouldn’t push the subject but understand your point.

They seemed to understand, nodding pitfully as Taeyong rubbed your back. What you didn’t realize was Johnny saw you when he peeped his head in your classroom. Biting his tongue harshly, he almost ran to his classroom and sat down in a huff, face flushed red with rage. He knew his outburst yesterday was uncalled for but seeing you so close to your recent found friends made his blood boil.

It was no secret that Johnny had a huge crush on you. Anyone with eyes and a brain could tell. How could anyone not be in love with you? A distant night in freshman year confirmed his undying passion for you. There was nothing special about that night but your smile and laugh had his temperature rising and his hands shaking. It certainly didn’t go unnoticed by others either. So why were those three boys acting so close to you? It provoked Johnny deeply and his emotions haven’t been in check because of lingering touches between you and everyone else. Being a teenager is hard, especially when you can’t recognize the line between friend and lover.

Johnny desperately wanted to cross that line and for everyone else to stay far away from that line.

A hand clamped down on Johnny’s broad shoulder and he jolted straight up, ready to yell at whoever disturbed him. An ugly scowl was plastered onto his face.

“Johnny!” The boy was from his volleyball team, smiling brightly but soon fading into a straight line. “What’s wrong?”

Johnny fakes a grin, “Nothing! What do you need?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, well now that you ask, I forgot.”

Is he lying because he saw Johnny pissed? Can Johnny even be that scary?

“It’s okay! Just tell me when you remember.” Johnny reassures, turning back to his desk.

“W-Wait!” the boy stumbles, looking for the right words, “the volleyball team created a plan recently for the last volleyball game of the season to celebrate…”

This peaked Johnny’s interest. “What’s your plan?”

Mark was sweating buckets, tense that Johnny might reject the team’s plan. Everyone was going to be pissed at him if Johnny rejects the plan. Plus, he would have to buy dinner for the week for everyone.

“We wanted to reveal who our school mascot might be…”

Johnny quirked his eyebrow up, interested. A small grin broke on his face and his little obsession with the mascot was fully on display. Two of his desires would be fulfilled. One, he would finally know who the mascot was, something that has been irking him since ninth year. Next, he might get new recruitments for next year’s team! Nothing negative could come from this.

“Let’s do it!” He confirms and Mark lets out a long-held breath. Mark bids goodbye and dashes out of the classroom, glad to be out of such a tricky situation.

For a short moment, Johnny forgot about how upset he was about you. Looking outside, he analyzed how the flowers bloomed slowly. He would love to show you right now.

Unfortunately, it appeared that both of you were on different sides of a flower. Not everything in life is supposed to be easy.

——————-------------------

Huffing and puffing behind the bleachers, you sat down for a moment to catch your breath. Usually you wouldn’t be so out of shape but due to emotional eating and lack of sleep because of Johnny, your physical state was lacking. It was the last game of the season and it had to be your best game yet. You couldn’t bare to let Johnny down again, even if he doesn’t know it’s you. As it was the last home game as well, you needed to make the night special.

The buzzer, loud and alarming, warns the teams that it’s soon time to play. You come jogging out onto the court, waving at the huge crowd. With the last home game of the volleyball season, a majority of the school showed up. Waiting for the cue of music, you got into position. After a few tricks and turns, the crowd erupts into joyful yelling as each team runs onto the court, wishing the other good luck.

You sat by the bleachers and distinctly you could hear the whispers of your classmates around you. Jerking your head around, all you see is the crowd smiling at you and praising you. Jumping around as a way to say, ‘thanks!,’ you turn back to the game. People were definitely plotting something, but what? Is there going to be a huge prom proposal tonight? Or maybe another party? Whatever the reason may be, it caught your attention greatly. You didn’t even realize when the opposing team called a timeout.

Starting the cheer to mock the opposing team, your school stomps on the bleachers and yells, “TO!”

A flash of a figure makes you step back and you see a mop of brown hair flying and a boy excitedly jumping up and down. Johnny urges the crowd to scream louder and louder as one of the teachers supervising the game shouted for them to shut up. Obviously no one paid attention as both Johnny and you were riling up the crowd. You didn’t dare miss the glint in Johnny’s eye in that moment you saw him staring.

With the timeout finished, Johnny runs back to his team and resumes the game. You watched intently as a rally began, neither side giving up. This game was surprisingly close and N City High looked as fierce than ever. The opposing team has been rivals with your school for years in athletics. If they didn’t win tonight, the entire volleyball team would be the joke of the school until another team loses in some sport. Quietly praying to any gods above, you hoped that wouldn’t happen to them. Johnny had worked so hard to build up his team; you couldn’t bear to see it all come crashing down.

Finally the score was 24-24. The game was neck-to-neck and people looked more stressed than usually. A surprise tip came from Winwin and had the crowd soaring and roaring out of their seats. The ball was rolled under the net to a giant, confident boy who strode up to the line with confidence. His arm extended fully and whacked the ball hard, barely passing the net and almost being out of boundaries. Luck was on his side as the score changed from 25-24 to 26-24.

N City High has done it.

The band breaks out into a cheery tune as the fight song echoes throughout the gym. You merrily clap your hands along and head to the center of the floor, giggling inside the big, mascot head. It was infectious seeing everyone so joyous.

Suddenly, you’re lifted up into the air and multiple hands are on the outside of the bodysuit. Panic sets in your stomach and you thrash around, trying to shake off whoever has grabbed you. A few yelps of pain were expressed and soon you were set back on the ground roughly, falling to your knees. Crawling away shakily, you’re jerked back by the hands of someone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, to celebrate our win, we will show everyone who our esteemed mascot may be!”

A sharp light fills your view and the mesh that surrounded your eyes from the mascot head disappears. Your eyes take a moment to adjust but soon you see the gasping faces of your classmates around you along with the horrified face of Johnny, holding the head of the stupid, ugly parrot. Its face was mocking you silently with uplifted eyebrows and knitted pink patches of blush.

Not even giving yourself a second to think, you bolt out of the gym, charging straight to the locker room. With choked sobs, you slammed the door and ripped off the rest of the outfit.

How fucking humiliating.

You have embarrassed yourself more times than you would like to admit but never on a level as extreme as this. Slipping on the black hoodie you arrived in, you caught a glimpse of your distraught face in the grimy mirror and immediately let out a whimper, sliding down to the floor and taking a moment to yourself.

You couldn’t leave. There was no way anyone would let you leave without questioning you. A cry escapes your lips and you slam your hand to your mouth, biting on the flesh until the taste of blood coats your mouth. It was embarrassing for your identity to be exposed. But by your best friend? That’s on a whole new level.

The door swings open abruptly and your head is filled with flight instincts. You rush over to the bathroom, locking the stall and listening to the loud footsteps.

“(Y/N)?” A sugary, honey voice presses, footsteps becoming closer.

“What are you doing in here, this is a girl’s bathroom!” You spit out, outraged at the offender.

Johnny sighs and you hear and feel a small ‘thump’ on the door of the stall.

“Can we talk?”

“We are.” You promptly respond.

“I meant face to face…” Johnny corrects.

You soundlessly unlocked the door and swung it open, not caring if you hit Johnny or not. Dejected, you stare at the floor in silence, waiting for him to start the conversation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You laugh, not sure if it’s a taunt or out of pure shock. “Why? Because it's embarrassing as hell. Nobody wants to be friends with the fucking school mascot.”

“Are you stupid?” Johnny replies and you feel the space around you grow a million times hotter. He steps closer to you and with a firm hand grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Do you know how much I don’t care? I’ve been obsessed with that mascot for so long because I wanted to befriend them. To think you thought of me so lowly hurts.” Tears well up in your eyes and you tear your gaze from him, stepping back. “Obviously. So what do you want? To make fun of me? Say your goodbyes?”

He scoffs and engulfs you in a hug, his cologne invading your senses. You instantly relax and wrap your own arms around his waist. After such a terrible week, having Johnny all to yourself comforted you immensely.

“You know I don’t care about reputation.” “I know.” You sob, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” You were a fool. Johnny was one of the most kind, careless people in your life. If anyone wasn’t going to judge you, it would be him. Johnny sighs, “I should be saying that. I’m sorry I was so stubborn and thought you were hiding secrets about your love interests. And that I also accidently revealed who you were to the entire school. I’ll beat up anyone who bullies you.” He jokes. Your heart was finally mending after all these troublesome days. A small smile graced your face as your tore yourself away from Johnny’s shoulder. “I’m glad I finally have my best friend back.”

With a sharp inhale, that mischievous glint reappears once more. “Can I change that?” Your confused look was wiped off instantly as Johnny smashed his lips against yours, his hands trailing to the small of your back. A gasp escapes your lips and Johnny sees it as an invitation to explore your mouth. Your hands make their way up to his neck and arms, not sure where to place themselves. You’ve fantasized over making out with Johnny hundreds of times but now that it’s happening, where did you put your hands all those times?

He pulls away slowly, nibbling on your bottom lip as he does. Your hair is all tousled and eyes wide as Johnny takes in your appearance. He chuckles and leans down again, stealing another kiss but putting more passion than lust into it.

“Sorry,” he whispers, kissing at your neck. “I didn’t mean for our first kiss to be in the locker room.”

“It’s fine. It’s pretty hot if you ask me.”

Laughter ruins the once serious atmosphere as Johnny and you were both cackling at the hilarious situation.

Becoming the school’s mascot was the worst deal you’ve ever made with that scoundrel of a principal.

However, earning Johnny and a few new friends for a lifetime was something you would never trade back in, no matter what reputation you held.

#nct #nct 2019 #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct imagine #nct headcanon #nct seo johnny #nct seo youngho #seo johnny #writing #kpop

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jackzimmermannn · 6 years

Text

Queer Eye for the Hockey Guy (~5K)

Queer Eye AU! What was going to be fluff about Bitty and Jack quickly became an entire episode of Queer Eye. If you haven’t seen the show, what are you doing with your life? Credit goes entirely to @aokayinspace and @zimmerhomme for creating the jumping off point for this! Uh, I guess RPF from the perspective that it involves the Fab Five? Very few fic liberties are taking regarding them, they mostly just provide the framework for the story. It mainly focuses on Bitty and Jack. Still, if that bothers you I recommend you move on and read @omgericzimmermann ‘s fic instead (read it on ao3 here) which slots other omgcp characters into the Fab Five (or if it doesn’t bother you, read this one AND Hayley’s!) Inspiration for Bitty’s food rant comes from Ruby Tandoh’s (you may remember her from GBBO) book Eat Up which I’m currently reading and highly recommend! Do some accuracy hand waving with the timeline. Please also excuse excessive comma usage and any typos (tho if there’s anything that makes absolutely no sense, please lmk so I can fix it!), I only do a very cursory proofred bc I can’t be bothered. Enjoy!

It’s like being ambushed.

A very friendly, loud ambush.

Jack is sitting at the kitchen table, methodically alternating between eating a chicken sandwich and doing his statistics homework (he really should have gotten his Math credit out of the way his freshman year) when he hears the doorbell ring, the front door open and Holster shout, no, scream, a “FUCK YES!” from living room. It’s a testament to how used to the team he is that he doesn’t think anything is amiss until Holster comes running into the kitchen, a man who looks oddly like a white Jesus in his arms. He’s followed up by Ransom who is carrying a small blond man. The rest of the team piles in, followed by three other strangers Jack doesn’t recognize and an entire camera crew.

What ensues is a lot of excited yelling, enthusiastic introductions from the men he doesn’t recognize and curious exploring of the kitchen. Bittle, or Bitty as he told Jack most people call him, is talking sweetly to the Haus oven when it finally occurs to Jack what is happening. “You’re the Fantastic Five.” he says, and everyone laughs.

“You look surprised to see us.” the man who introduced himself as Tan says and Jack ducks his head. “I may have...forgot we were doing this?” Shitty is immediately draped on him, cradling his head. “Forgive him. It would be unfair if he had beauty, brawn and brains.” he chirps. Jack snorts and shrugs him off. Jonathan, who moments ago was bonding with Shitty over his flow, waves dismissively. ”We’ll forgive you, but only because you’re serving me Backstreet Boys realness with these bangs and I can’t wait to get my hands in your hair.”

Jack thinks that’s a compliment, “I’m not sure who that is, but thank you?” The men laugh again, apparently under the impression he’s making a joke, but Holster claps a hand onto Karamo’s shoulder, “No, he’s not joking. Yes, you have your work cut out for you.” Rather than looking shocked, or worse, condescending, Karamo looks pensive. Jack isn’t sure if he should be worried about what Karamo’s thinking.

“Do you think you could give us a tour?” Bobby asks, “Then we can get to know you a little better, get a feel for the space.” Jack nods, “Yeah, of course. Sorry.” Jonathan is gushing over the long “O” in Jack’s “sorry” (apparently his accent is adorable) as he pushes himself to his feet. Jack thinks Bitty may have given him a once over now that he’s at his full height, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. Bobby is already trailing out into the living room inquiring after any repairs the Haus might need, and Tan is asking him if always wears neon sneakers.

The cameras zooming in and out around him are mildly disconcerting and he stumbles over his words a few times as a result, but he finds himself slowly relaxing anyway.

Jack gives them a tour of the Haus, kicking more stray boxers and jockstraps under furniture before they can be seen than he should have to. When it’s just the team he doesn’t really focus on the state of the Haus as long as it’s not falling apart entirely, but with fresh eyes examining every inch of the space he can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. The look Bittle gives the couch in the living room doesn’t escape him. By the time they get to his bedroom, Jack is glad he at least keeps this room fastidiously clean.

Jack notices Bitty frown at his “Be Better” poster before tugging it down and rolling it up. Before Jack can object, Bobby tosses out the idea of redecorating the Haus living room instead of Jack’s room. Jack firmly agrees, “It’s a shared space so everyone will get to enjoy it. It’s something the whole team will get to use together and keep using even after I’m gone.” Shitty aggressively hugs Jack at the comment, “You big softie. Looking out for the little guy.” Bittle seems to also like the idea. “God is good and that couch’s days are numbered.” he remarks. Jack surprises himself by laughing and Bittle grins at Jack.

Jack smiles back. Maybe this could be fun.

This is not going to be fun.

Karamo gets him first and it’s wildly uncomfortable. Jack knows that he’s just trying to get a feel for what direction to go in, but all the “What do you do for fun?” question combined with the camera focused on him just inches away leave him anxious. He’s given about ten different variations of, “I don’t know. Hockey takes up a lot of my time.” Before Karamo sighs and stands up from where he had been sitting on one of the steps of the front porch of the Haus. Jack immediately knows he’s fucked up.

He hunches in on himself, still sitting, and stares fixedly at the ground. “I’m sorry. I know I’m really not– you’ve probably had clients with a lot more personality.” Jack is expecting to get a stern, but well-meaning remark about giving them more to work with but instead Karamo sits back down next to him, “You don’t have to apologize. I was actually going to say I’m sorry.”

Jack doesn’t know what to say. “We’ve been doing this for a few seasons now, we forget what it’s like to be in front of the cameras. How about this, where do you feel most comfortable?” For once, Jack doesn’t even have to think hard to come up with and answer, “On the ice.”

Karamo’s response is just as immediate, “Let’s go then.”

Jack can feel the tension in his shoulders release as they glide around the perimeter of the rink. Karamo’s wobbly on his skates, but the fact that he’s trying and putting himself out there makes Jack want to make an effort too. Bittle ends up joining them as well, and he’s clearly at ease on the ice. Apparently he played hockey in high school. The common interest gives Jack a starting point to open up the conversation

As a fringe benefit, only some of the camera crew are confident enough with their skating to carry their equipment and be on the ice at the same time, so they put mics on Jack, Karamo and Bitty and send only one camera man out with them. The rest of the crew are doing wide shots from the bleachers. Jack doesn’t say anything, but he’s glad for a little distance.

The longer the three of them skate, the looser Jack’s tongue gets. He finds himself talking about his major, his love of country music. He mentions the photography class he took, the photo series he did about hockey which later transitioned into photography of different spots around campus. He can feel himself growing more comfortable with the cameras and he manages to make both Karamo and Bittle laugh. If he finds himself delighting a little more in making Bitty laugh he doesn’t focus on it.

They’re taking off their skates when Karamo suggests setting Jack up with an Instagram account. “Adam was right, you don’t know a lot about pop culture.” Jack focuses on undoing his laces, “But that’s not a bad thing or something to be embarrassed about. You have your interests, your own passions. That’s what’s important.” Bitty nods in agreement as Karamo goes on. “I want to focus on giving you an outlet to help you explore other sides of yourself outside of hockey. The bonus is that the outlet will help you share your fuller self with others and connect with people who aren’t your team.”

It sounds reasonable, and spending more time on photography could be fun. Bitty nudges his shoulder, “I’ll be your first follower.”

Jack’s sold.

Strangely, Jack doesn’t find Jonathan’s enthusiasm that off putting. He thinks it’s because of how similar the man is to Shitty, or maybe it’s just that Shitty’s personality is hard to top.

Jack is sitting in front of the mirror at a local hair salon, cape on while Jonathan works his fingers through Jack’s hair, examining it closely. It’s so casual that Jonathan’s question comes out of left field, “You have anxiety, right?” Jack tenses, “Yes.” He knows he probably sounds rude, but this isn’t really a conversation he was expecting to have on national television. The last thing he needs is to be justifying his mental health to a stranger.

But Jonathan meets Jack’s gaze through the mirror and surprises him with his next question, “Do you have any self-care practices?” Jack nods slowly, “I, uh. I have medication for when I need it. I see a therapist. But running is good for clearing my head. I meditate.” Jonathan nods vigorously, “Yes, I love it. You wouldn’t believe how many clients I have to explain the importance of this to. Which is totally fine! But it helps save us some steps.”

“So what I’m going to do is just update your cut a bit. As I said before, I love the bangs but they’re a little two thousand and late and we want you looking to three thousand and great.” Jack feels like that’s probably a reference to something. Jonathan continues, “I’m going to give you a messy undercut, it’ll be hot. Then I’m going to give you a few skin care tips, some under-eye cream I think. You have amazing eyes and bone structure so we want to help you take care of that. Sound good?” Jack doesn’t really know how any of that sounds since he doesn’t even know what an undercut is, let alone a messy one. But like Shitty, he finds himself trusting Jonathan implicitly.

“Let’s do it.”

Jack finds Tan and Lardo working their way through every item in his closet in his bedroom. He knows this since about half of his closet has been dumped into the “Hockey only pile.”

“They’re comfortable!” He protests, but Tan shakes his head. “There’s a time and place for comfort and there’s a time and place for style. You have a good sense for what kind of apparel is appropriate for different occasions, but a lot of your casual clothes are very– what did you call it?”

“Soft jock.” Lardo supplies.

“Soft jock,” Tan agrees, “I want to give you a wardrobe you can wear confidently when you’re not in the gym. Something you can wear out to lunch, on a date.” Jack flushes, “I’m not seeing anyone right now.” Lardo raises an eyebrow knowingly, “Right now being the operative word, dude.”

Bitty chooses that moment to poke his head in the door, and Lardo’s eyebrow only goes higher. “Tan, make sure you get him to a good tailor too. We all have our assets, some more than others. I know off the rack suits aren’t doing him justice.” Jack’s blush grows, “I own a suit!” Tan unfolds his suit pants from where they’re hanging, eyeing them skeptically, “That isn’t a size too big?” Bitty winks at Jack before slipping out.

“You have your annual team banquet at the end of the week, right?” Tan asks, redirecting Jack’s attention. Jack nods. “Your team speaks very highly of you and it’s clear you’re captain for a reason. You’re obviously playing the part, but you also want to look the part. We’re going to set you up with a tailored suit that fits all parts of you, and a comfortable, but styled, casual wardrobe. You’ll be set for the banquet, but different occasions as well.”

Lardo smirks, “Even if those are dating occasions.”

“I’m not dating anyone.” Jack mutters under his breath, but looks at the different tie patterns Tan offers him.

By the time it’s Bitty’s turn to get his hands on him, Jack barely notices the cameras and is comfortable with all the guys. But still, he gets a little nervous when he hears what they’re going to tackle in the food segment. After Bitty learns about Jack’s PB&J gameday routine, he becomes adamant that they make bread, nut butter and jam. Though Jack insists that he really, really, no, really doesn’t know how to bake, Bitty waves him off.

“Everyone thinks these things are so hard to make, but they’re really not. Bread is just a lot of waiting for it to rise, and with nice arms like yours you’ll be a kneading champion.” If Jack flexes a little at the comment, no one needs to know.

So the cameras find the pair of them in the kitchen. They’ve already made three different kinds of nut butter, the peaches are cooling in ice water so they can be peeled and they’ve moved on to bread. Bitty decided they would make two different loaves, one multi-grain and one cinnamon raisin, so they’re both kneading away. Jack has to admit, it’s kind of fun.

“We complicate food so much, what we should eat, what we shouldn’t eat. There’s all these rules.” Bitty has been preaching about food culture for the past fifteen minutes. “And you being an athlete, I’m sure that just complicates things even more. There are certain nutrients you need for sure, but we also need food that nourishes our soul. We can’t just ignore our minds and focus on our bodies. Then we just end up even more distanced from our bodies than we were to begin with. You know what I mean?” Jack doesn’t entirely, but he likes the passion Bitty speaks with. Plus, when he’s caught up in his words like this Jack can sneak looks at him without Bitty noticing.

“And don’t get me started on the politics surrounding food. People being shamed for what they do eat, don’t eat. Feeling like they need to punish themselves. It’s a whole industry, let me tell you.” Bitty lets out an irritated huff. “We’ve got a real problem on our hands when we make something that should be simple so messy. But at the same time it’s complex! Food isn’t just food. It’s history and culture. It can really affect how we treat ourselves and how we see ourselves.”

Jack hasn’t said much. He knows that probably doesn’t make for great TV, but he figures they’ll be editing all of this down anyway. He doesn’t mind listening to Bitty, enjoys it really. But with all the talk about food and people’s relationship to it he finds words joining together in his mind. Before he can stop himself, he’s saying it.

“I was a fat kid.”

To Bitty’s credit, his hands only still for a moment before they resume kneading. “Fat isn’t a dirty word, honey.” Jack nods jerkily, “Maybe not in theory. But in practice.” he lets out a shaky sigh, “I think. I think I still carry that with me?” He waves a hand, though keeping his gaze fixed on his bread, attempting to seem casual even though he knows the redness that is creeping up his neck betrays his embarrassment. “It shouldn’t matter, but people gave me a hard time, you know? And now I play hockey. I have to perform at a certain level. My body has to perform at a certain level. I need to eat certain things so that can happen. And looking a certain way is a side effect of that.” He immediately feels like he’s said too much and tries to cover it up. “But I guess. I mean. It wasn’t my best look,” to cut through the tension he tacks on a poor attempt at humor, “and you’ve seen me in Crocs.”

Jack had been so determinedly avoiding seeing Bitty’s reaction that it isn’t until Bitty takes his hand that he realizes he’s being stared at. Or. Glared at. With love?

“Now you listen here,” Bitty begins, and Jack silently think that the tone of Bitty’s voice suggests that he has no choice but to listen. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you looked, then or now. Why do you think we came all the way to Samwell?” Jack shrugs a shoulder, “I don’t know. Why do you go anywhere? To make people better.” Before he can blink, Bitty softly knocks him on the shoulder with his free hand. Jack feigns a wince which gets a smile out of Bitty, but he quickly schools his expression back to stern. “I didn’t take down the ‘Be Better’ poster in your room just because I knew it wouldn’t go with Bobby’s design concept. I took it down because it’s wrong. Getting better is for colds, not for people.” The corner of Jack’s mouth quirks up at the phrasing, but Bitty pushes forward.

“We’re here to help you be yourself. I don’t think Jack is a curmudgeon locked in his room, sadly drinking nasty protein shakes.” Jack open his mouth to protest, the protein shakes aren’t that nasty, but Bitty isn’t done saying his piece. “I think Jack is the person we were told about when your team nominated you. A dedicated guy, who loves hockey but also likes photography and history. He’s always there when you need a hand and yes he wears banana sneakers when he runs and Crocs in the locker room, but he helps his...frogs?” Jack nods, “He helps his frogs pick out a nice tie to wear to his friend’s art show. He’s thoughtful and funny.”

Bitty drops Jack’s hand, turning back to the counter to start kneading again. Jack stays where he is, a question still lingering, “Then why the whole...makeover? I mean. Why new clothes, new hair, new food?” Bitty stops and looks up, but not at Jack. Gazing out of the kitchen window he’s quiet for a moment. Jack can see him turning the words over in his head. “Because those things aren’t reflecting who you are. They’re reflecting someone else. You’re not a hockey robot, sweetheart. You like cracking jokes and spending time with your friends. Bobby’s redoing your living room so that y’all have a nice space to spend time with each other. That’s the real you. Hockey robot you would need his bedroom redone with a personal gym and a giant dry erase board to sketch out plays in his sleep.”

Bitty finally looks away from the window, moving through the kitchen confidently to pull out a loaf pan and start to grease it. Jack goes back to his own dough, thinking Bitty’s done talking but suddenly Bitty pipes up, a tone of finality in his voice. “I think we buy into the stories the world tells us about ourselves. But you gotta remind yourself who you really are and stay rooted in that. You’re not asking for permission to be yourself, you find your core and then tell the world who you are.”

Jack turns that over in his head.

The bread turns out perfect.

Earlier in the week Bobby and Jack went through the photo series he did of the team for his photography class. What the photos would be used for Bobby refused to reveal. He had a sneaking suspicions they would just be made into prints to frame, but it was nice that Bobby thought his work was good enough to be part of the redesign.

Bobby blindfolds Jack on the porch of the Haus before they go in for the big living room reveal. Before he started all of this he thought getting free redecoration would be the best part, the rest of his makeover just something to tolerate, but as the week has gone on and he’s gotten to know all of the Fab Five better he’s grown to really enjoy the process and spending time with the guys. They’re part of his team now.

Shitty takes advantage of Jack’s lack of vision to give him a surprise sloppy kiss near his ear before they go in, accompanying a fond, “You look good, Jack-o.” Jack manages to get Shitty in a headlock in retaliation, which Bitty quickly breaks up, “Boys, boys. If you’re wanting to see your new home, you better behave.” Jack immediately lets Shitty go and feigns innocence, and even with the blindfold on he can feel Bitty smiling at him.

“Alright, Jack. You ready?” Bobby asks, and Jack nods. A steadying hand is placed on his back to guide him as they open the door and enter the Haus, gently guiding him to the living room. It’s only when he hears Shitty breathe, “Holy fuck.” that he realizes he can take his blindfold off.

Holy fuck is right.

Jack takes a few tentative steps forward, looking around in wonderment. It’s really. It’s incredible. The entire room is shades of gray and black, with red accents. One wall is painted red, the team logo printed large in the center of it in white. On other walls are canvas prints of the photos that Jack took, artistically angled shots of the rink, close-ups of skates carving ice. They look professional, better than Jack thought they would. The TV is on a real stand, not a beat up coffee table. All the cords for the different gaming consoles are tucked away, their video games neatly slotted in next to each other. The old couch is gone, to stay the least, replaced by a large black sectional. There’s a foosball table that has a closed top, so it can be used for beer pong, Jack realizes. A quick glance at Lardo’s face shows she’s eyeing it already.

Jack steps forward and touches the couch, it’s some kind of fabric. “It’s going to get stained at a Kegster. It’s. This is too nice.” Bobby laughs, “It’s liquid resistant. You get the look but without the mess. But I’m going to take that as a thank you.” Jack immediately moves towards him, embarrassed by his thoughtlessness, extending a hand to shake. “I’m sorry, no. For sure. Thank you, seriously. This is. It’s amazing. This means a lot to the team, we really appreciate this.” Ransom cuts in, “He’s got his captain voice on, that means he’s really serious about it.”

Jack is too overwhelmed to even chirp back.

It’s only a half hour later when it hits Jack that the Fab Five is leaving. Of course, he knew logically that it was the last day, but it all feels so sudden. They’ve been with him all week and Jack fulls acknowledges the intimacy and vulnerability involved with what they’ve done for him. One by one the say goodbye, Jack once again profusely thanking Bobby, reassuring Jonathan he’ll keep up with his new routine, promising Tan the Crocs will stay in the locker room and taking a last minute photo with Karamo for his new instagram account. Finally he gets to Bitty, who smiles up at him, looking a little misty-eyed.

“Look at you, sugar. All grown-up.” Bitty chirps. His expression is open but his body language is guarded. Jack places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I solemnly swear to never eat store bought peanut butter ever again.” It gets the desired effect when Bitty lets out a wet laugh. “Seriously though, thank you for coming out here and doing all this. For me and the team. It was great. Getting to know you.” Bitty bites his lip at Jack’s earnestness, dropping his gaze to his feet. “Oh, well you know.” Bitty replies, voice wobbily, “I’m just happy to help.”

Jack opens his arms, gently enveloping Bitty in a hug. For a moment Bitty goes stiff, but then Jack feels arms wrap around his waist.

For a long moment they’re together, then they’re apart.

When Bitty had received a call from Antoni asking him to fill in as the food expert on Queer Eye while he filmed his new show with the Food Network, Bitty wasn’t sure what to expect. Of course, he obsessively watched the show (the old version and the reboot, he wasn’t an amateur). He also wasn’t short a passion for food, he had that in spades. His baking vlog on YouTube had gained a lot of traction and he had managed to make an entire career out of being self-taught and social media savvy. But he didn’t have the same traditional credentials as other people, he didn’t go to college or culinary school. He was also young. Surely there was a long list of other people who were equally, if not more qualified to take Antoni’s spot.

But Antoni had insisted, and after a short meeting with the casting department and other Fab Five members it was clear Bitty was a solid fit. It had been a whirlwind of an experience so far, but Bitty’s favorite part was absolutely getting to interact and connect with so many different kinds of people.

Then came Jack.

Jack, with his simultaneous confidence and insecurity, muscles but soft smile. He was a sight for sore eyes wrapped up in good intention. As filming had gone on, Bitty felt himself growing closer and closer to Jack. By the end, he had thought maybe– well. It didn’t matter now. There had been a long, wonderful hug. And then goodbye.

Now all that left was filming their reaction to the follow up.

After lighting and sound had been set up, the five settled into the couch. The footage opened with Jack spreading jam and peanut butter on his homemade bread. Tan tsked at Jack’s gym shorts and tshirt, but Bitty barely noticed. “That’s my guy, look at him. That’s the almond butter we made!”

Once Jack made and ate his sandwich, the video cut to him going through his closet. They all waited with bated breath as he weighed his different options, but let out a cheer when he settled on a light blue tie with a navy suit. Bitty pressed a hand to his cheek, “He looks so darn handsome, you did a great job, Tan.” Too busy watching Jack, Bitty misses the look Karamo and Bobby exchange.

Bitty is expecting to see the video follow its typical format from there, Jack ticking the other boxes of what he learned and then attending his big event, the banquet. There should be a little video of him using his instagram account and spending time with the guys in the living room. But instead he’s suddenly watching footage of Jack walking down a familiar looking street with flowers in his hand. He stops at a familiar looking door. Bitty can’t figure out why he knows the location, even as Jack enters an elevator that Bitty swears he’s been in.

It isn’t until there’s a knock at the door of the Fab Five loft that Bitty realizes where Jack is. He’s here.

“Oh my Lord. Y’all did not. You did not.” is all he can seem to say, fussing with straightening his clothes as a crew member goes and opens the door. Jack, looking handsome as all get out in his sleek suit, steps into the room and Bitty is rooted to the spot. “Hi.” Jack says, waving nervously. If he isn’t just the sweetest thing.

Bitty slowly gets to his feet. “Hi.” he says back, staring at Jack with wide eyes. Jack smiles, moving further into the room, stopping in front of Bitty and handing him the flowers. “I got these for you. I would have brought you a sandwich but I didn’t think it would travel well.” Bitty lets out a strained laugh, taking the bouquet with a shaking hand. “They’re beautiful, Jack. Thank you. These are just. Goodness. You’ve got me all flustered.”

There isn’t much time to dwell on how overwhelmed Bitty is feeling, since suddenly Jack takes Bitty’s free hand. “You told me that I need to know who I am. Who I want to be. That I need to hold onto that and then tell other people.” Bitty knows his expression goes fond at Jack’s words. How could it not? Yes, Jack is quiet. But that doesn’t mean he’s not earnestly listening. “I did.” Bitty confirms, nodding. Jack takes a deep breath. “Getting to know you this week was really special. I mean, it was for all of you–” he glances at Bobby, Karamo, Tan and Jonathan who are all excitedly holding each other, watching everything unfold, “–but it was really special with you.”

Bitty squeezes Jack’s hand, encouraging him to continue. “I know myself a little better now, and I just wanted to tell you and I guess, the world.” He glances at the cameras this time, “I wanted to tell you that I really like you. I think you’re great.” Bitty knows he’s getting weepy, but he can’t help it. How could anyone when there’s a beautiful man in front of you, telling you how loved you are? “I’d really like to take you out to dinner. I’d make it myself, but you didn’t teach me how to do that.”

At Jack’s last chirp, Bitty lets out a teary laugh and finally leans forward and kisses him. Jack responds with enthusiasm, showing that kissing is one thing doesn’t need a team of reality TV experts’ help with.

#omgcp #Check Please!#zimbits #jack zimmermann #eric bittle #mine

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readwithjoy · 6 years

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Is it unreasonable to expect a sort of response from Emursive involving the Buzzfeed article? Sleep No More is a special place to me and I’d definitely return if Emursive demonstrated they were taking steps to fix the problem.

So–here is my take on this after a couple of weeks of thinking about it, re-reading the article, and having a lot of conversations. A lot of conversations. With fans and with people who are in a better position to judge the current situation. I’ve hesitated to post more on this issue, but I think there are a few things worth thinking about.

1) I believe they are taking steps, but I highly doubt we will ever hear about them publicly. That would be unwise on their part for several reasons, not the least of which is that it would keep the whole situation in the news cycle. And I would guess that their lawyers have said “don’t respond.” (That’s a guess from what I know of lawyers, not any inside information.)

2) If you read the article carefully, it’s completely possible that steps have already been taken. The current cast/staff members quoted in the article said that they feel safe in the building. I suspect that if currently employed people had said they didn’t–it definitely would have been in the article. So it’s possible that after the incidents mentioned in the article steps were taken to change the safety procedures. (They did add a much needed line about respecting the performers’ space to the elevator speech, although it should have been added years ago.) One thing this article highlighted is the abysmal procedures they had in the past. At several points former cast and staff were quoted as saying that they were assaulted but didn’t feel like they should or could say anything. This should horrify the management of any company. Employees should not only feel safe in reporting this kind of behavior, but encouraged and supported to report. The fact that so many people were brushing these things aside is really problematic, and I hope this is one of the things that has changed over the years since these assaults happened.

3) From what I know of the security staff–they do not take the safety of the people in the building lightly. They do have specific procedures in place to protect the cast. And I trust that they are reviewing or have reviewed those procedures. At one point the article mentions a meeting where staff asked for more security presence. While the article mentions the request it does not follow up and reveal if that increase happened. (If it did–it would seem to argue for a sensitivity to the safety issues presented, if not then it would be a further sign of neglect.) We just don’t know.

4) Everyone I have spoken with on the topic since the article was published has said they currently feel both heard and safe in the building. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t still incidents occurring, but multiple people I trust have told me that either they don’t experience the types of things that were reported or that when something does happen they are heard by management and things are adjusted. With the exception of the Johnny Bravo guy (and I hope he’s been blacklisted by now) the incidents reported in the article are from quite a while ago. It’s difficult to judge the current situation from the article.

I do not say this to diminish the horror of the accounts in the article. There should be accountability for how cast and staff were treated. I just don’t know if that accountability will ever happen, and if it did—I’m 100% sure that the public would never be told. It’s just not the kind of thing that gets published.

5) I’m also uncomfortable making judgements about people based on paraphrased comments. For some of the language attributed to Emursive, we don’t actually know what was said, and paraphrasing accurately is notoriously difficult, especially when it benefits your article to have the comments seem as incendiary as possible. So–it’s possible the intention/meaning behind the paraphrased comments is a bit different from what came across in the article.

6) I have serious respect for several people working in that building who are fierce and advocate for themselves on a regular basis. It’s hard to believe they would continue working in a place where they are routinely treated the way the article portrays the cast as being treated. That said, I completely believe the former cast and staff who told their stories to Buzzfeed. Those things did happen.

So–all that to say–I don’t know. The grain of salt I have for the tone of the Buzzfeed article has grown by a lot. Not about the stories told by former cast and staff–-those I believe 100%. But I have questions about how the current situation was portrayed, and if there are voices that are not being heard. Buzzfeed is not an outlet I generally turn to for ground-breaking journalism…I wonder what this article would have looked like in the hands of a different news organization. But I also don’t want to paint Emersive in a positive or innocent light. There are clearly some deeply serious issues that, if they aren’t being continually worked on and adjusted, then they should be.

But to answer your question–no, I don’t think it’s reasonable to expect a public response from Emursive or Punchdrunnk on this issue. Of course it would be nice to sit down and hear everyone’s side, but in truth–-the public isn’t the group that is owed that response. The people who deserve to be heard and listened to are the cast and staff working in the building, and my understanding is that this is happening.

#Anonymous #sleepnomore #sleep no more #mckittrick #sleepnomorenyc

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adrenalineguide · 4 years

Text

Rediscovering “Kloomp” in the summer of 2020

Words and Pics By Michael Hozjan

Like most of you I spent this past spring and summer trying to catch up on my home repairs, moving my man cave, the “honey do” list as well as trying to get my automotive projects further along. Covid put an end to the car show season very quickly as those of us who attended Toronto’s Motorama will attest. It also put a halt to press vehicles, the publication of my 2020 car show calendar and the 2020 Adrenaline Annual.

It also awoke my eyes to the junk that we accumulate on an annual basis. Now I’m not talking about the day-to-day or week-to-week spur of the moment purchases (I saw a guy just this morning walk up to the line up for the cash at the Canadian Tire store with just one item and by the time he made it to the cashier had picked up a dollar pack of pens, an equally expensive flash light, some chewing gum, a couppee doll and one other item that I couldn’t make out.) No I’m talking about big ticket items that have become nothing more than land fill in our throw away society.

Just over ten years ago I bought my Mac for more money than I paid for my first five cars COMBINED. Today I can’t access half the web sites because I can’t update my browser to the latest platform.

Which is why I’ve been tardy with my posts. Of course I didn’t get any red flags popping up from Tumbler saying “Hey we no longer like your computer go out and buy a new one.” It just stopped working and I had to wait for the proverbial hammer to hit me on the head before I realized what was going on.

Thankfully my cell phone had 392 UPDATES last week and I was able to access Tumbler’s home page on my cell. Really 392 updates! Why in the world - I’m leaving out the real explicatives – do I need 392 updates on a telephone. Yes I use the camera function once in a while but very rarely do I surf the web with it. I’d be just as happy with one of my old flip phones if I could still get batteries for it. Yet another way for the boys in Silicon Valley to make us buy crap we have no choice but.

Imagine one day going out and trying to start your car and it won’t turn over because the battery is dead. No problem, I’ll just get a new one at the local car parts outlet. But what if they said, “Sorry your 2012 Mortgage Coach GT is out of date and we don’t support it anymore. You’ll have to buy a newer car.” You’d be furious. But isn’t that what’s happening with hundreds of household items. Let’s take it a step further. Your car starts but now the computer won’t read any of the drive-by-wire commands. In other words it won’t shift into gear. So now you’re stuck in your driveway with nothing to do but listen to the radio or play video games. Actually you can’t play video games either.

We wouldn’t accept it with our cars so why do we roll over and play dead when it comes to our day-to-day items?

Don’t think for a moment that Silicon Valley can’t make updates to support your aging computer – they can. They just don’t want to. The world population is just under 8 billion, yet in 2019 less than seventy-five million PCs were sold world wide, having peaked in 2011 at just under 100 million. In 2019 the U.S. alone threw out 59 million tons of e-waste. Clearly to keep themselves employed they have to force you into the newest box. If NASA was able to put Neil Armstrong on the moon with the equivalent of a Commodore 64, Silicon Valley can certainly update your Windows ’98 to surf the 2020 web and accept all the aps.

I’ve called and emailed numerous establishments reminding them about their blue collar customers and that they don’t necessarily have the latest computers and if they want their catalogs/flyers to be seen by their buyers they better make the webmaster adjust the access portals. Well guess what? A couple listened and changed their platforms. I and I suspect thousands of others can view their on line catalogs and flyers once again.

Batteries

I alluded to batteries earlier and just want to go back to it. How many of us have drawers full of old cell phones and tool shed or garages with battery operated impact drills, weed whackers and trimmers that are useless because you can’t get batteries for them anymore. A couple of years back I went out and bought a new Cub Cadet snow blower at the local dealer. We also decided to buy their line of battery powered garden tools; a weed whacker, pole saw and hedge trimmer. It added $800 to the bill but thought it well worth it. This year I found out the batteries no longer exist, can’t get replacements and Cub Cadet discontinued their garden tool line. I also found out that my dealer bought up all the discontinued items to sell without any regard to his clients’ future woes. Anybody want a nearly new pole saw, hedge trimmer and weed whacker. I’ve also got a pile of old Mastercraft and Black & Decker tools rendered useless because of their batteries. This year I bought a set of Milwaukee 18V tools. Am I going to buy their 18V trimmers to replace the Cub Cadet units? In a word no. I’m afraid that after I buy another several hundred dollars worth of battery powered trimmers the batteries will once again be out if date. Mark my words, next year they’ll be 24V units and all your 18V will be “kloomp”, Slovenian for junk.

Above:If they look like new it is because they have only been used a few times before the battery died

No I’m getting my gas powered weed whacker fixed, I’m going back to using my corded drills, saws and grinders and using the battery powered units only when I have no choice and I’ll be renting gas powered pole saws. In the long run the environment will be thanking me for the batteries and the battery-powered items that didn’t end up in the landfill because I never bought them.

False advertising

While I’m venting, and yes this is several months of pent up aggravation coming out… I went out and picked up a ½” auger drill bit for one of the honey do items on the list that needed to be built. The label on the Benchmark bit said it was 18” long. Not the twenty-four inches I needed but it would have to do. So you can imagine my amazement when I opened up the sleeve and noticed that the flute length (the auger part that cuts and sends shavings out the hole) was only 15”, the remaining 3” were made up of the neck and shank, or the part that fits into the drill itself. Now I ask you, when you go out and buy a ½” socket do they measure the outside socket head or the USABLE internal wall? So why isn’t Weights and Measures Canada coming down on this?

Above:Size matters;18 inches is not 18 inches

What does all this have to do with automobiles? Nothing and everything. It has brought me to a greater appreciation of the way automobiles are built as compared to our smaller day-to-day items. My buddy Dino proclaimed just the other day he would gladly swap five BMW Z4s (his current ride) for his old 1972 Alfa 1750 GTV. He drives his cars like they were stolen and his last ride, a 1992 Miata outlasted his 70′s sports cars threefold. So while we may bitch about how complicated cars have become over the last two decades, let’s not forget that they’ve also become far more reliable. Oh and I haven’t heard of any hybrid sitting in a ditch somewhere abandoned because the battery wasn’t available.I don’t think my dad would be calling today’s cars kloomp.

#batteries #laptop #silicon valley #drill bit #cell phone #power tools #benchmark #cub cadet

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mathemagicalmlp · 7 years

Text

My personal takeaways from Trump’s news conference this morning:

Nothing much has changed with what Trump has said. Build a wall, repeal and replace Obamacare, border tax, MAGA.

He seems to have more of a plan than before, but it still appears to be a vague outline than a rigid structure.

He still has a temper. This worries me greatly. If I’m worried about someone with a temper while driving a car, I’m super worried about someone with a temper driving the country. He did better at the conference than he did at the debates though.

No mocking of disabled/women/minorities today. He’s reached the bare minimum of human decency.

Trump has given his company to his kids. That doesn’t completely eliminate conflicts of interest, but it does mostly.

Full report under the read more.

Buzzfeed published uncorroborated/unconfirmed reports. Guys. This is one of the things we’re trying to fight against as fake news. Confirm your reports through your own journalism and don’t just release gossip.

Trump has saved and/or created about 4,000 jobs since becoming president elect with deals from Carrier, Ford, and Chrysler-Fiat. But that’s not enough since the average job rate increase is about 100,000 per month. What Trump is doing at the moment is not going to substantially help the economy in the long term. Whether or not his policies will is another story, and one I’ll be watching closely.

Drugs (legal ones) appear to be on Trump’s hit list after the auto industry. I’m currently neutral on this because I know nothing about it.

I had no idea about the F-35. But I’m learning now. Trump says he can get the cost down with competition. I don’t see how that’s possible.

TREMENDOUS THINGS! THEY’RE GOING TO DO TREMENDOUS THINGS! Dude, just use a teleprompter. And tell us specifically what they’re going to do.

Side note: “many people have said” does not make it true

“I will be the greatest jobs producer God has ever created.” A little (or a lot) arrogant but it sounds good. How?

His site says by increasing the GDP and a “pro-growth tax plan”. How would he increase GDP? And I need to do research on whether low tax plans on the wealthy actually do increase investment in jobs. I have been conformed into thinking that the Government is a better producer of jobs than the 1% but I have no basis for this besides being a Democrat and we know how lame of an excuse that is.

“We’re going to need a little bit of luck.” What? I? What?

Why are you still talking about the polls? The polls aren’t relevant anymore.

Unless he wants to portray himself as an underdog. But underdogs typically perform a lot of work to get them to where they are, and Trump only marketed himself well.

The VA is a problem? I mean, I have an uncle who works there and I haven’t heard him complain about how it’s bad. Or rather I heard that he loves the ACA. Maybe I’ll talk to him more about it.

Trump admits the hacking was done by Russia. He has surpassed the expectations given to a 4 year old. Thank God.

China apparently also hacked us about a year ago. So yeah I kinda agree that we need to increase our cyber security.

On the note of hacking, according to Comey, the FBI director, the current RNC was “not successfully hacked” (a point Trump reiterated). However, older RNC information (such as email accounts that were no longer in use) was successfully hacked but not released, and that this non-release is why Russia appears to have favored Trump. If so, I’m confused as to why Russia didn’t hack and/or release old DNC information as well. Or at least why we haven’t heard about it if they did.

More talking about how Democrats and Hillary are bad. I’m getting sick and tired of it.

Though I did learn some new information: Hillary Clinton received one of the Democratic Primary debate questions a day in advance, leaked by CNN’s Brazile. Shit.

STOP WITH THE HYPERBOLE! (Biggest Story in the History of Stories is a HYPERBOLE DONALD STOP USING THEM) (Yes the Hillary scandal is worse but this is more annoying.)

(In response to if Russia has blackmail on Trump) Do you honestly think anything Russia could release is worse than the Hollywood Access tape? No.

“I am very careful [of cameras watching in Russia]” Try saying that again, but remembering the Hollywood Access tape, the time you mocked a disabled reporter, the time you called Mexican illegal immigrants rapists, the time you promised to get a special prosecutor to look at Hillary’s case, etc. (And trust me there’s plenty more examples to come)

Trump claims that he has no current loans or dealings in Russia. He has tried previously to expand into Russia and also held the 2013 Miss Universe pageant in Russia. However, it does appear that he has no CURRENT ties to Russia in his financial dealings. It’s impossible to know for sure though since he hasn’t released his tax returns.

Note: Trump claimed to have talked with Putin during his time in Russia following the Miss Universe pageant, but denied those claims as he was running for president. Therefore it is impossible to know (unless Putin wants to come forward).

Trump admitted he didn’t know about the president not needing to give up personal assets until 3 months ago.

I think he’s right, in that the people don’t give a shit about his tax returns.

Trump (along with Ivanka apparently) signed over the business to his sons and another executive. I’m good with this. As long as he does it in practice and not just in name.

This woman announcing this is speaking more clearly than Trump. It’s more boring, sure, but it’s better.

This sounds really good. But I’ll let the news organizations slog through the details and read the summaries to confirm this.

(”Selling [his assets]...would exacerbate conflicts of interest) No. No it wouldn’t.

He can decline royalty fees.

It may look like “pay to play” but that isn’t different than making the situation better for his family anyways. It’s just with different people.

Losing value is not the same as conflicting interests.

I’m sorry, but you’re offering very good alternative ideas and not doing anything to dissuade me that they’re possible.

It’s not the best way to resolve conflicts of interest. But it is acceptable.

...Are diplomats going to stay at Trump hotels? I...I feel like this is a conflict of interest, regardless of whether or not Trump is getting paid. (All payments will be donated to the Treasury.)

The Secretary of State can’t just magically fix trade deficits you know.

“We don’t make good deals anymore.” THE UNITED STATES DOESN’T MAKE DEALS WITH COUNTRIES! THAT’S THE CORPORATIONS THAT DO THAT!

The big one. Obamacare.

“[Republicans] could sit back and watch and criticize as Obamacare gets worse.” YOU’VE ALREADY DONE THAT YOU IDIOT!

Trump claims that a replacement plan will be submitted as soon as the Health and Human Services cabinet member (Tom Price) is approved. I hope so, but I’m taking it with a LARGE grain of salt.

His confirmation hearing is set for Jan 18. Two days before Trump is sworn in. Mull on that.

Again, more complaining about Obamacare rather than talking about what we can do to fix it. I can’t wait to see the plan they put up.

They’re talking about the wall. Nothing we haven’t heard before.

“Mexico has been so nice.” BWAHAHAHAHA

“Nobody’s ever had crowds like I’ve had.” BWAHAHAHAHA DOES THE NAME BERNIE SANDERS RING A BELL?

Trump was consistently interrupted by a CNN reporter. Trump finally got them to be quiet by calling CNN “fake news.”

CNN may be biased like Fox, but it’s certainly not fake.

Fake news is “something we’re going to have to live with.” Bullshit. Make a law punishing false news stories published by companies claiming to be true news outlets (not satire/parody sites like the Onion).

I can’t find a corroborating source for “the US is the worst of 17 countries at hacking defense.” I found one for healthcare, but not hacking defense.

I’ll say that I’m more impressed than I thought I would be. But that bar was set pretty low to begin with. We’ll see how well he holds up when he actually sets foot in office.

#politics #math musings

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kansascityhappenings · 5 years

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10 years ago today, the ‘balloon boy hoax’ in Colorado captivated America

FORT COLLINS, Colo. — Only one family can claim “Balloon Boy” as their own.

That’s the moniker given to Falcon Heene in October 2009 when he was just 6 years old. For nearly two hours, people around the world fixated on his fate — fearing he had floated as high as 7,000 feet in a massive helium balloon resembling a flying saucer.

And nearly 10 years later, the day is still fresh on the minds of many in Colorado and around the world.

The balloon landed 90 miles from the family’s home in Fort Collins with no Falcon inside. He turned up in an attic over the garage, having never been tucked in the balloon as his parents said.

His discovery ended a frantic effort to save him. It also started legal woes for his parents, both of whom served time in jail after a story that started to unravel during an interview.

John Moore/Getty Images

As soon as the story got out, the world couldn’t get enough.

News outlets from Al-Jazeera to the BBC to CNN beamed images of the floating spectacle, with the quickly dubbed “Balloon Boy” presumably inside.

Social media exploded. Seven of Twitter’s top 10 trending topics at one point that afternoon had to do with Falcon Heene.

It became clear soon enough that Falcon had not been in the balloon at all — he had been safe at home all along.

Rather than sit back and deal with the situation privately, the Heenes leaped into the limelight. Richard invited about 30 journalists into his home so they could see where Falcon hid.

John Moore/Getty Images

The boy took part in this media circus, though it didn’t always go smoothly. In an interview on NBC’s “Today” show, the 6-year-old leaned his head against his father and vomited, right in front of the camera.

The turning point for law enforcement, though, came during an interview with CNN’s Wolf Blitzer. Repeating Blitzer’s question to his son, Richard asked the boy whether he heard his parents call for him as they searched the house. The boy said yes.

“And why didn’t you come out?” Richard asked.

“You guys said that we did this for the show,” Falcon replied.

Later in the interview, the Heenes said their son was confused by a Japanese reporter’s earlier request to see the attic.

Larimer County Sheriff Jim Alderden saw it differently. Alderden initially said authorities believed the boy had fallen asleep in the garage’s attic without his parents’ knowledge. Now he called it a “hoax.”

“We believe that we have evidence at this point to indicate that it was a publicity stunt done with the hopes of marketing themselves, or better marketing themselves, for a reality television show at some point in the future,” Alderden said. “Clearly, we were manipulated by the family. And the media was manipulated by the family.”

Mayumi Heene would plead guilty to a misdemeanor charge of false reporting to authorities, earning 20 days in jail and four years’ probation. Court documents said she admitted to authorities it was all made up.

Her husband got 90 days after pleading to one felony count of attempting to influence a public servant, claiming later that he did so hoping to keep his wife from being deported.

Yet, even though he apologized to rescue workers and community members involved in the chase, Richard Heene never admitted outright that it was a sham. He still doesn’t.

“I didn’t get charged for a hoax,” he said, accusing Colorado authorities of going after him so they could look good publicly. “It was a typical … public official (who) redirected it to him so he could get attention. That’s fine. I just want to walk from it.”

The Heenes decided to start over. They built a huge trailer, hooked it up and headed to Florida. After some time south of Tampa, they settled about 50 miles north, in Spring Hill. Richard says he was drawn by the area’s low cost of living and high opportunity for work fixing and flipping houses.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/10/15/10-years-ago-today-the-balloon-boy-hoax-captivated-america/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/10/15/10-years-ago-today-the-balloon-boy-hoax-in-colorado-captivated-america/

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wayneooverton · 7 years

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8 tips for becoming a professional travel blogger

I’m running an exclusive sale this week with Travel Blog Success just for you guys – use promo code FALL35 and save 35% off all their memberships and courses and get an exclusive webinar with me

It’s been almost five years since I quit my job to follow my dreams traveling the world and becoming a full time professional travel blogger. Yes, it’s a thing.

Five years of crazy adventures, heaps of countries, learning new stuff, discovering things about myself, of ups and downs, highs and lows, successes and failures, it goes on and on. Though thankfully, I haven’t failed catastrophically at this whole blogging for a job thing. And let me just tell you, there were plenty of people who were hoping expecting me to fail.

Take that, I am not back home living in my parents attic working at Starbucks! Which to be frank, was a very strong possibility. The world has been saved from a potentially bitter barista full of failed dreams giving thin bitches who order skinny pumpkin spice lattes wholemilk out of pure spite.

But I digress.

In 2012 I had the dream of building my blog into some kind of empire to fund my travels. No, I didn’t want to enter the real world. No, I didn’t want a real job. No, I didn’t want to settle. No, I didn’t want to pay my student loans back. I just wanted to explore. And I figured out a way to make it a reality in a way that let’s me tell stories and be creative.

But what essentially started as very selfish travel goal has slowly evolved over the years into something so much more; I like to think anyways.

Nowadays, travel doesn’t mean as much to me as it used too. I don’t really care about ticking places off a list or all the must-dos, to be honest. Now I’m rather more interested in the experience, the journey, the learnings, than the location. My blog has become my outlet for inspiring other people to chase their dreams too. To look outside convention and not be afraid to dream big, whatever that entails. It’s become a place for me to be creative again and make something meaningful that lasts.

I think everyone has a story to share and should start a blog. For me, blogging is for everyone.

Whether that’s traveling for the first time or going somewhere new to learning a new skill to trying to fix and change the world, for me what started as a self-indulgent journal of my adventures has grown and evolved into something much bigger, perhaps even more self-indulgent and totally different. At least for me.

In 2014, about a year or so after I had been blogging full time, I wrote a post called So you want to be a professional travel blogger, which is still one of my most highly read pieces. In it, I share all my knowledge from years of blogging and open up about how I make a living online.

It’s something a lot of people are curious about. Without fail, when I tell someone I’m a pro travel blogger, 95% of them will immediately ask me how I make money. Man oh man, if they only knew. Literally it’s the same conversation. Depending on my mood, I often now just straight up lie and invent various boring career paths knowing that the conversation will end there. Accounting (hey, I do my accounts), publishing (obviously), project managing (sure), investment broker (ok, what?!).

Because when I do open up and share about my life and work, I can’t do it half-assed. I’m all in. Hold on for the ride.

It’s been a couple of years since I wrote in-depth about building a career as a professional travel blogger, but it’s something I think about all the time. While many of my tips and secrets stay the same over the years, like be consistent and don’t share shitty content, some of my other pointers have taken much longer for me to realize.

I’ve been really involved with the travel industry over the years, and have picked up quite a few tips along the way for going professional and “making it,” whatever that means. My tips for becoming a professional travel blogger aren’t hacks or shortcuts. I’m a big believe in doing the work that is required to build something that lasts, and I’ve seen people over and over again try to jump the gun only to disappear a year later.

Here are my 8 best tips for becoming a professional travel blogger. Enjoy!

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1. Have clear achievable goals

I think most blogs are sloppy. Hell, even I’m sloppy. For any of you who’ve met met me personally, you know I’m literally all over the place. I’m messy. I’ve been called a hurricane. I’m glad you can’t see my desk space as I write this.

Organized chaos guys.

That being said, I have always had relatively clear goals regarding my blog, and I slowly worked at ticking them off over the years, setting the bar higher and higher for myself as time goes by. A tumultuous overachiever if you will.

10 tips for starting a kickass travel blog

Whether that was hitting certain numbers of followers, or developing a channel like Instagram, to organizing a specific project, I’ve always sat down, clearly outlined what I wanted to achieve and figured out how to get there. Funny enough, money has never been part of my goals ever except to earn enough for rent and coffee and to pay my blog costs.

In fact, I’ve hit peak goals – I’ve got an email chain currently with NASA. Like, what?!

2. Find your tribe + join Travel Blog Success

I hate the word tribe; I can’t believe I just wrote that. Community. That’s what I meant. Find a community to help you on your journey.

Listen, I’m an introvert at heart. I hate people. I hate talking to people. I want to be left alone. Mostly. But even I, in my harsh and lonely cynicism, will admit that I would have never gotten where I am today without an amazing community of other travel bloggers who helped me over the years when I needed it and who didn’t bother me when I wanted solitude. I’m grateful.

In addition to my own travel media conference I launched last year in Australia (The Travel Bootcamp), I have only ever been a part of one blogging community – Travel Blog Success. I’ve been a member since 2012. Travel Blog Success is an amazing resource, consisting of two major online courses that teach you everything from how to start and build a blog to going pro with it, along with other courses to help you advance your online business.

Why join Travel Blog Success?

It’s the only really established travel blogging group started and filled with genuinely good people. It’s really open and everyone is really supportive asking questions and getting good answers. There is a secret Facebook group where everyone asks everything, creating good dialogue, and perks and job offers that often pop up. While I joined 5 years ago, I didn’t actually go through and do the courses then, which I wish I had because it would have saved me years of trial and error.

And I’m still learning new things. TBS just helped me last month about setting up new adshare opportunities here I would have never known otherwise. Most of the major travel bloggers are in and participate in the Facebook group; it’s the only group I participate in, and it’s been instrumental in my growth and success. It taught me everything I needed to know, introduced me to key people, and I ran with it.

Also this week I’m running my own exclusive sale with Travel Blog Success just for you guys to join if you’re looking to start a blog or go pro with your blog. It is so difficult to try and make it on your own. I’m offering an exclusive 35% discount on all their courses and memberships til Friday October 20th midnight EST – use PROMO CODE FALL35 at checkout. And you’ll also get access to an upcoming exclusive webinar with me where you can ask me anything (within reason).

3. Think outside the box

It is so easy to copy what other people doing, especially successful people, but that will only get you so far. There are hundreds of millions of blogs in existence today. If you want to be in it for the long haul, and be a serious professional travel blogger, you have got to stand out.

And you will never stand out if you do what every one else is doing. Obviously.

Figure out your point of difference and run with it. And it can’t be bird stuff or getting hate mail, that’s mine.

4. Diversify what you do

Would you believe me if I told you that my blog earns me into the six figures, something I never thought was possible. I went pro solely in the hopes I could pay for my travels, and now it’s gone so much further than I could have ever imagined.

If you think the only way to make money as a travel blogger is through advertising and affiliates, you’re not thinking outside the box. The ways I earn really vary, and I’m always trying new things. My work through my blog has been anything from location scouting New Zealand to hosting my own tours to launching my own events. But if I’ve learned one thing in this industry as a professional travel blogger, it’s that it’s really important to diversify both your content and your revenue streams.

Don’t just focus on one social media platform either. When I started this blog, all that matter was Facebook and Twitter. Quickly that changed to Instagram and who knows where we will be in another 5 years. I’ve made sure that I’ve built a strong solid presence both on different social media platforms but also running my own column on Stuff.co.nz, New Zealand’s biggest newspaper and writing, creating and consulting for others too.

Try new things, and don’t put all your eggs into one basket.

5. Tell a damn good story

It blows my mind that the stuff people are creating online these days are both simultaneously amazing and shit. Literally most of the blogs I see online are terrible. Even the really famous ones. Perhaps I’m being judgmental here, especially when I know for a fact there are a whole lot of people who hate my guts out there, but still. Why can’t everyone be like me?

Jokes, I jest I jest. Please don’t be like me. The world would implode.

What I’m trying to say is I would like to fight for the value of a truly good tale. Storytelling is incredibly important in digital media these days. We crave good stories and we don’t always get them.

If you can craft a good story, in any way you can, you will do well. And I don’t mean just being a good writer, I mean in terms of what you make. Whether that’s through photos, videos, art, words, whatever medium you want, storytelling is a powerful and important tool to have if you want to be a professional travel blogger.

And don’t get caught up on making it perfect. I think actually that shiny polished content doesn’t matter as much as a rock solid story. Look at Casey Neistat. His vlogs are intentionally a bit messy. He’s all over the place, you see him adjust exposure on his camera. It’s not refined at all. But he’s a great personality, a great storytelling and a damn good editor, that’s what matters more.

6. Hustle til it hurts

No one is going to hand you anything if you’re trying to be a professional travel blogger. You have to work for it. You’ll never stop working for it. It doesn’t get easier. You have to hustle to make shit happen, like with all things in life.

I can’t even begin to express just how difficult and hard this is. It’s stressful and exhausting but worth it.

I send out huge proposals almost daily. I am always on the phone with potential new clients. I chase up people I might want to work with. I make an effort to meet people face to face. I make people say no to me three times before I give up, and even then I don’t always. But I always try to do it in a nice, polite way, and I spend a long time building relationships with people before I pitch or ask for anything. Don’t be thirsty.

Hustle and don’t be afraid to go after what you want, but be genuine and don’t be a dick about it.

How to get paid to travel the world

7. Be memorable

Self-explanatory.

8. Mistakes and failures are lessons

Don’t be afraid to take risks or to fail. In all aspects of your life.

Success only comes after hardships and screw ups. But if you play it safe, and have a boring, average blog, it’ll be very hard to go professional nowadays. Dedicate a lot of time into coming up with creative things, projects and strategies that could launch your brand into going pro. And well, if oyu screw up on the way, no big deal. Everyone has the attention span of a toddler these days, and they’ll have forgotten it in a week and you’ll likely have learned something very valuable.

This is the most important thing I’ve learned with my blog, and it’s one of my greatest tips to give to people. This is a fucking hard industry to break into. But if you are willing to jump in feet first, be open minded about opportunities, be creative with your work and above all, be willing to take risks with what you do, you are setting yourself up for success.

Do you have a blog? Link below and I’ll add them to my list to read. Are you interested in becoming a professional travel blogger? What’s your dream job? Share!

Join Travel Blog Success this week and save 35% with my exclusive offer code FALL35 and access my free webinar

*This offer ends at 12am EST Saturday, Oct 21, 2017 or October 21st, 5pm New Zealand time. Webinar date and time TBA.

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