#I did manage to snag an AM print that was cool | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

storiesandthingsofthatnature · 1 year

Text

Chapter 1: Let’s Begin

Hi there! I have NEVER really posted on this blog save for reposts. This is supposed to be a side blog for stories and after many years it shall become one! I am currently working on a few stories with ocs and this one is for five nights at freddy’s. Basically a young woman named Stella has been hired by Freddy’s Mega Pizzaplex and finds herself in an interesting relationship with SunnyDrop and MoonDrop. Here is the first chapter of the story. Reblogs and likes are my life blood and help me keep going! comments would be nice too! :D Thank you! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There had been many red flags from the jump, the ad itself consisting of sketchy info and a vague description of the jobs’ responsibilities. From the looks of things the money that was spent for each print seemed to have been dumped more so on the graphics and sub-categories of shameless plugging for their merchandise and other affiliated products/businesses. The fact that Stella was never called in for an official interview and was only contacted to be told she had gotten the job and they would need her account info and her basic identification with no other context should have been the deal-breaker. No background checks. No further inquiries on past jobs. Yes, many red flags lay piled near her feet. Yet she simply stepped over them and walked into a place of nightmares. However, in the beginning, she was quite relieved she hadn’t been grilled so thoroughly. She wasn’t sure what this establishment truly looked for in an employee, but she was sure that one look at her record would have been enough for an immediate no. It always was with every other job she tried to snag. Although her history was not that of crime, her rep sheet was enough to portray that she was no good. Homicidal tendencies. Manic depression. Her paranoia led her into a trove of trouble and misunderstandings that ultimately ended in her termination from the company. She meant well! She did. But, being her age she was still trying to figure out who she was. She didn’t mean to be so bleak but right now she’s grasping at straws. Being a young adult she wasn’t prepared for the responsibilities that filled her already overfilled plate of things she was unable to do on her own. It was pathetic. She relied heavily on her small group of “family”. Albeit, it only consisted of four, herself included. However, the other three did end up coming together to discuss Stella’s mental state. She had just recently been laid off for the fourth time in two months. She was fried and with no reason to go outside, she was left to slowly fall into madness surrounded by the same four walls. They agreed that she needed to get out and even went as far as to search around for suitable jobs or side errands that would accommodate Stella's “mental disabilities.” And now, here she was, an unmoving rock amongst a continuous tide of patrons and various employees. There never seemed to be a day when Freddy’s Mega PizzaPlex was ever slow, let alone barren. However, she was told that the overnight security shift would be the right fit for her; little to no human interaction and management are more lenient on “professional” etiquette. Taking in what seemed to be the umpteenth deep breath that day, she forced her legs into motion. The way to the office felt like a fever dream - as though she was on autopilot. Nothing seemed real but, at the same time, everything was surreal. No matter the workplace, her inability to function in the most basic of public spaces is cause for alarm. Before she knew it her hand wrapped around the cool metal door that led into the main office. She approached the desk, a middle-aged woman behind an arched row of monitors. Stella wondered how she could keep track of anything. Then again, she most likely didn’t have ADD. Her hands fluttered on the lip of the counter, Stella having a hard time even announcing her presence. But she couldn’t stay like this for too long. Either she was going to be met with silence from a none-the-wiser employee and labeled as a creep/idiot on the security cameras, or they were going to awkwardly meet each other’s gaze which would then add to Stella’s aura of inner tension. So, after giving a few thrums of her fingertips along the cool, colorful surface she found enough courage to give a small clear of her throat. The sound of fluid typing ceased and Stella did her best to keep her anxiety at bay. She needed to be normal. “May I help you?” Stella chewed on her lip,” I-I’m Stella? Stella Salazar. I have an appointment with an officer Steve?” She sucked in a sharp breath, a very unneeded paranoia engulfing Stella while the woman behind the counter searched up her name. “Ah, yes! Thank you for coming in. I’ll go let him know. One moment.” She gave a small smile, the woman disappearing into a backroom that was shielded by shelves adorned with various Pizzaplex merchandise. Having some time to herself, even if it may be moments, Stella took the chance to reflect. Manic Depression is one thing but to have the title “homicidal risk” is something that Stella never would have imagined weighs so much. No one needed to find out. Well, the ones that had no business in the matter whatsoever. However, she was starved - emotionally and mentally, mostly. She was given opportunities to open up to many people and amongst her confessions, her homicidal tendencies would fly right off of her loose tongue. After this, it always ends the same. They say they completely understand. But who feels the same with anyone when one finds out they have impulses to kill things with no provocation whatsoever? It’s slow. The disconnection. Their excuses became more frequent and what used to be so intricate in its design slowly turned into half-assed lies that Stella became far too tired to even acknowledge. Then, she’s on her own once more. She was wondering when her current friend group would inevitably do the same; realize how fucked up Stella is and come to the logical conclusion to distance themselves from a walking disaster. It was a matter of time, she was sure. Fingernails dug into the soft pads of her hands, Stella gnawing on her lip. No matter how long she is going to be welcomed, she needs to help out in some way. So, if they offer her this chance then she is going to take it with the utmost gratitude. She could be homeless. Why wasn’t she…“ Ms. Salazar?” Her last name ripped her away from her self-loathing, an automatic smile filling in her once tense grimace. “That is me!~” She chirped. With shaky legs, she followed the receptionist to the back. They passed through intricate hallways covered with posters of each mascot. Random plushies could be seen on the window ledge for each office. Some seemed to be more biased than others, considering a few had a plethora of Roxy merchandise. Something within her felt that perhaps that wasn’t a good sign. But she was brought out of her immersion by a rather energetic and boastful voice. “Ms. Salazar, is it?” A middle-aged male walked up to Stella and shook her hand with a firm grip. Out of habit, she looked away, eye contact a problem that she was currently working on. “H-Hello. And yes, it is.” She retracted her hand quickly, the motion not going unnoticed by the ever-vigilant Officer Steve. However, it was probably a sensitive topic considering. So. he made an internal deal to get to know Stella and find out her backstory. It was said that no one can escape the curious mind of Steve Henderson. “Pleased to meet you! I’m Steve Henderson, aka, Officer Steve. I’m the head security officer for this Megaplex location and I’ll be conducting your appointment this afternoon. Please, have a seat.” He led her into his office and motioned for her to sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk. She took a seat, Stella placing her backpack next to her on the floor. Twitchy fingers clutched around her knees while her right gently tapped from the soft children’s music that floated into the back office. “Just one moment while I get all the necessary papers.” He said with a smile, the male bowing over to search through his bottom file draw. While he mumbled to himself about organizing his papers better, Stella took the time to idly look at the overly decorated office. There wasn’t a particular theme; it seemed that whatever item he received from this place made its way to display here. There was no bias either, with an equal amount of PizzaPlex paraphernalia strewn throughout the small space. But then she noticed the two plushies of both MoonDrop and SunnyDrop. She tilted her head slightly, a fond smirk playing on her lips. She loved SunnyDrop for as long as she could remember, the mascot coming to life in her younger years. She had a lot of SunnyDrop-related merchandise, Stella having an internal battle earlier on whether it would be weird if she came in her Sunny Hoodie. But, in the end, she decided against it and came in a loose-fitting sweater. But then there was MoonDrop, a character that came a little after SunnyDrop’s debut. When she first saw him on TV, she was told that she had cried all night. Present-day he still gives her the chills but at least she doesn’t have night terrors anymore. “Spotted them didja?” She jumped in her seat, gaze returning to the officer. “Uh…Yeah.” She gave a breath of a laugh. “Sorry.” He gave a laugh of his own, “ Please, no worries! I don’t mean to show any bias but I will say that befriending them both was a real challenge.” That caught her attention, Stella wanting to ask for him to expand more on it. But was beaten to the punch by Steve. “Well then.” He smacked his hands together and rubbed his palms. “Let’s begin!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Stella had only been exposed to a quarter of her new workplace and already she was overwhelmed. However, after years of schooled suppression, her anxiety was left to pool within her very core. Something to add to the firepower of her approaching breakdown, but now just wasn’t the time to mull over what will be. She needed to pay attention. She transitioned back to reality, her “guide’s words becoming coherent once more. “...really, no kidding. Anyways, the next place on our little tour is the daycare! Does the name SunnyDrop sound familiar to you?” The older male asked, head cocking slightly towards Stella. The smaller gave an affirmed hum. “Course! He hasn’t been around for long but I love his design.” Stella mused. “Though, I will admit.” She continued with a breath of a laugh. “His counterpart is a tad creepy.” Her confession was met with a hearty laugh. “Completely understandable! Quite a few of the other employees feel the same. But, in my opinion, he’s a shy introvert who is very misunderstood. When one thinks of the dark, one can’t help but affiliate it with bad things. But! I gotta tell ya. The daycare is a sight to see when it’s dark.” Stella eyed the other with interest, the male’s voice laced with that of fondness. “You and MoonDrop sound close.” She couldn’t help but say. Steve simply nodded coupled with a small grin. “Being a “veteran” of this place, I’ve grown very close with each animatronic. I couldn’t help but try my hand at befriending every single one of them, even if they are very apprehensive at first.” He said with a small chuckle, his face expressing that of a past, pleasant memory. Before Stella could inquire further, the sound of playful children’s music caught her attention. They stopped in front of a large set of double doors. They looked heavy and sturdy which mimicked the appearance of safety, the very thing an establishment like this wants parents to feel. To provide them enough peace of mind to spend their money freely for both themselves and their children. Steve stepped up, his hand in a fist as he knocked on the left door. He then stepped back, the large male unable to suppress an excited grin. “He is a hoot, you’ll see.” His excitement was contagious and already Stella could feel her pulse quicken beneath her olive skin. The sound of bells could be heard, each jingle growing in volume as something approached the double doors. It was then Stella heard the familiar voice of the jovial sun jester. “Oh, goodie! Friends! Who could it be, who could it be?” Their innocent quip was enough to make Stella’s heart squeeze. The left door was opened with enthusiasm, and the head of SunnyDrop immediately peeked around to see who had come to his daycare. “Officer Steve! What a pleasant surprise! You usually don’t come by until well into the night!” It felt like every sentence from Sunny ended with an exclamation point, Stella unsure of how he was not exploding from the amount of energy swirling within him. “We got a newbie tonight. I’m showing her around, introducing her to everyone.” Steve stepped aside as Stella unknowingly shuffled behind the male so Sunny wouldn’t look at her. But now she was in the limelight and the fact she was new sent Sunny into an energetic spiral. “New friend?! Goodie!!” The sun jester opened the door further, the music from the overhead speakers spilling out further into the lobby. Out of habit, her foot gently tapped to the beat of the simple song, the action not going unnoticed by the animatronic. But they said nothing as they danced around the female, sizing up his new friend. “You’re very pretty! What’s your name? Is that your natural hair color? Oh, I like your eyes!” The amount of attention she was receiving was too much and she looked at Steve for help. Picking up on her silent SOS, Steve stepped in to gently pry away Sunny who was currently staring into Stella’s icy blue eyes. “Sunny, boundaries. Remember what we talked about?” Suddenly, Sunny did a back step and elegantly landed on one foot. “Right! My apologies.” He scratched at his faceplate in a sheepish way, a blush a fitting addition for the situation if Sunny held the ability to produce one. “But those questions still stand!” He placed his hands behind his back, a feigned sense of proper etiquette encircling the ever-smiling animatronic. Stella took a moment to recall his questions,” My name’s Stella. And yes, it is.” She patted at her loose bun, the female choosing to come into her first day of work in casual attire considering she was simply receiving the grand tour for tonight. Her hair was dark but when in the right lighting you could see the gleam of dark purple within the highlights. And in the right conditions, the hue of ruby red could be seen amongst her ends. Her skin was a honey color, a great contrast to her freezing eyes. Her pupils were ghostly and to some people, it made them uncomfortable. The colors were just too sharp, it seemed. Among her small frame, she wore a large, loose-fitting sweater. She hadn’t received her shirt or security jacket yet so she improvised with her top. But as for her bottoms, she wore black jeans that, while not unique, filled the criteria for the “proper” employee dress code. The sound of jittering mechanics emanated from Sunny, the jester having a tough time refraining from invading Stella’s personal space again. Steve couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the animatronic, the so-called veteran took aback by his old friend’s behavior. “SunnyDrop, are you okay?” The concern in his voice seemed to flip a switch within the sun jester, his shaking immediately ceasing as he turned to Steve. “Yes, yes! I’m A-Okay!” He declared, his hands rubbing together from what seemed to be residual anxiety. “Too much Fizzy Fazz, perhaps.” Sunny supplied an excuse, and Steve gave a hesitant nod. He didn’t seem convinced, but for now, he was going to leave it. “Anyhow, we need to get going Sunny.” His rubbing hands slowly came to a stop, an aura of sadness contradicting his large smile. “Oh? You’re leaving so soon?! B-But, I had so many things planned!” Steve chuckled. “Sunny you didn’t even know we were coming. How did you plan anything?” Sunny gave a light laugh, the fluttering sound comforting to Stella. “It’s never hard for me to make up fun activities on the fly!” Sunny said, gently patting Steve on the head for not getting such a simple thing. “Pfft, of course! How could I forget?” Steve played along, Sunny suddenly whipping his head towards Stella who jumped noticeably from his sudden movement. “I’m sad we didn’t get to finger paint together but I hope you can stop by again real soon!” He then hopped over and proceeded to pat Stella on the head as well. But what started as playful swatting turned into gentle rubbing, as if the other could feel her strands of hair amongst his metal fingers. “Soft…Poofy.” He mused gently. Perhaps he did have the ability to feel physical material? Then his touch left her scalp, the sun jester skipping over to the still ajar door. Spinning on the tip of his shoe, he peeked around the door to give one final goodbye. “ Welcome to the Freddy Fazbear Megaplex team, Stella! Can’t wait to spend more time with you!” And with that, he slipped back into his daycare, the once bellowing music immediately muffled by the closing of the large double doors. Steve turned to Stella. “As I said, he is a hoot!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Finally, it was the end of Stella’s shift and she was free to leave the building for the day. Expected to come back at the same time the coming night, she was given every pamphlet that outlined the infrastructure that was the pizza plex. A couple of them were employee inclusive, maps of the utilities’ tunnels and warehouses, of course, not accessible by guests. Currently, she held about 6 different pamphlets, and with each anxious sifting through the leaflets, Stella felt more and more way over her head. The job itself was easy enough - Steve had even gone as far as to give her a handwritten step-by-step instruction sheet for her to follow and, soon enough, apply to her muscle memory. But Stella had no idea just how huge the entire establishment was. She had even admitted to Steve that she has never visited this particular location. However, practice makes perfect and for now, all she could do was study what material she had and get a full eight hours of sleep. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately and now that she was working the night shift her sleeping schedule was going to get a whole new makeover. Change was something Stella found hard to adapt to, but one way or another she will find a way. Certain activities will have to be put on hold while others will be shifted around, Stella is suddenly immersed in creating a faux schedule within her mind. A soft tapping pulled her away from her thoughts, Stella’s head snapping in the direction of the sound. Right now the building’s power had been cut off, something that they did before they officially opened for the day. So, she was walking around in pitch black. Certain areas were illuminated by emergency lights which helped her find her way to the employee exit. But, two red eyes were easy enough to see in the dark, their glowing eeriness slipping her into a trance. She should be terrified right now. She wasn’t diagnosed with it but she highly believed she had a phobia of the dark. However, she walked closer with such ease, Stella realizing she was approaching the see-through shell of the daycare. “MoonDrop.” She muttered, the clicking of the moon jester’s mechanics seemingly increasing from Stella’s recognition. Her earlier conversation with Steve resurfaced to the forefront of her mind, the word “misunderstood” echoing the loudest. So she found herself placing her right hand against the cool glass, Moondrops own dominant hand mirroring hers. “I’m sad we didn’t get to talk more, but I hope to see you again real soon.” She chirped at the night animatronic, Sunny’s last words to her remade in her rendition. She didn’t know if Moon would catch on, but internally she had a feeling she shouldn’t doubt the intellect of these mascots. And her instinct seemed to be correct, Moondrop’s faceplate rotating slightly as his shoulders bounced lightly from his low chuckling. But, to her disappointment, he didn’t speak further. But Steve did mention some were apprehensive of meeting new employees and considering Moondrop’s reputation amongst the ones who have been here the longest, her interaction was something most likely unheard of. From the elusive MoonDrop, nonetheless. She gave a hum, a small grin graced her lips as she gave a few thrums with her fingers against the glass. “Good night, MoonDrop.” She then let her hand fall back to her side and proceeded to make her leave. “Nighty night~” She heard the raspy voice of MoonDrop say, Stella, turning around to see the back half of Moon disappear into the maze that was the play structures. She wasn’t expecting an answer back, but to have received a reciprocated reply she clutched her chest from the sweet ache within. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ And yes, there will be spicy times huehuehue

#fnaf #fnafoc #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's #sunndrop #moondrop #sunnydropxoc #moondrop x oc

3 notes · View notes

sonipanda · 5 years

Text

So bring on another pair of wild tights; I am just amazing myself with how many different prints you can get hold of now. A lot of these (including this pair) I didn’t think I would ever see myself in, but I am glad I am giving them a go to style!

Now I gotta say I have no idea who else stocks this model, but I managed to find a foreign site that does for the time being, so be quick if you want to get a pair!

The Spec

Colour: Grey

Size: Small

Denier: 60

Materials: 91% Polyamide & 9% Elastane

Price: € 16.90

Website: Corseteria Magda – CdR Hyena Pantyhose

My Outfit

I wore my off-the-shoulder t-shirt tucked into my skater skirt and added my patent heels to finish off the look. You could always go for pumps or converses to make it more casual, but seeing as it was for work, let’s stick with heels.

My Deets

T-Shirt: off eBay

Skirt: H&M

Tights: Wolford

Shoes: Pleaser USA Dom Heels

The Review

From The Website:Modern panty print animal print in black in combination with vertical stripe on the side. 60 denier spinning in a gray tone, it is semitransparent and very original and daring. Very combinable with gray, black and other colors. Quality and design Cecilia de Rafael.

Trendy panties from Rafael Cecilia’s collection.

Semi-transparent panty 60 denier thickness of spinning. In gray with animal print shapes and vertical black stripe. Without demarcation. Flat seams Cotton rhombus in intimate area. Composition: 91% Polyamide 9% Elastane.

The Packaging: like most of the CdR packaging, it shows the model wearing the hosiery on the front, along with the brand name, model and the sizing. The back goes into little detail, the sizing guide and washing care.

When you get in, you will find these folded around card with slight foot shaping to it. One thing to keep in mind is that the vertical stripes need to sit at the side of the leg, so use this as a guide when getting them on.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Getting Them On: as I mentioned before, I used the vertical line as my guide to make sure I get them on as straight as I can. When I did my scrunch and roll, I have to say the hosiery was slightly tough and felt tight to get them over the feet. This eases up once you get them over the feet, past the ankle and up the leg.

On The Legs: I thought these would be a little more block rather than sheer. Even so, I still do like them! I have the same pair in blue (which I am currently selling brand new) so I thought I would go for grey as the ‘easier option.

The quality of these are superb; no snags, no issues. I did feel that these didn’t have much stretch in them, but it isn’t a bad thing. I did feel comfortable in them, but it would have been nice to get that extra bit so it doesn’t feel too snug.

The fit of these are true to size; if I went one up, I feel like I would have gained that extra stretch. But these still fit amazing well. The feel of them are soft; not like cashmere but smooth enough to feel happy being in them.

I gotta say the design is super weird, but also super cool. It’s not a pair I would actually buy myself, but it’s not for those who aren’t experimental with their style. I do quite like it, and the vertical strip just adds a whole different vibe to them I find. I did question as to why it is even there… Who knows?

The Toes & Ankle: plenty of wiggle room in these and they fit so well around the toes. I didn’t feel any added pressure around the toes, and there was no extra material on the sides. As you can see, the vertical strip starts from the side of the toes, so perfect way to start lining it up.

Around the ankles, these are a smooth fitted finish 🙂

The Waistband: the band does its job! I felt comfortable in these all day, no added pressure and they were a lovely snug fit on the waist. These sat belly button level on me, which was perfect. I felt that these had enough elasticity in them without it being lost after stretching them multiple times to test it out.

My Thoughts?

Not really something I would go for, but this would easily work for festivals or some animal-like occasion. I am glad I did give them a go as I think they are super funky!

The quality is great on these; the fit and feel are fab too! I do love the whole concept of them, but the design I am still pondering over!

CdR Hiena Tights So bring on another pair of wild tights; I am just amazing myself with how many different prints you can get hold of now.

9 notes · View notes

fintorosi1985-blog · 5 years

Text

I also ordered the Coloured Raine Queen Of Hearts after a year of staring at it. They had buy one get one free and I wanted one for my bestie. I will try packing on too. I custom select lash extensions for the right fit on each and every lash. When the correct size/width extensions are applied, they wear incredibly comfortable and appear much more like they are the clients natural lashes, rather than noticeably false. I find that if there is overhang from an extension that is too wide for the natural lash, then there is a much greater chance for them snagging, being uncomfortable to wear, and have shorter lash life.. A good example that demonstrates this is doing "preacher curls". Lets say you can comfortably curl 상주출장마사지 30 lbs per arm, but your goal is to be able to curl 40 lbs per arm. If you were to only workout your biceps and if you neglected your triceps. Stratia Skincare is out of Pasadena, CA and although they just switched from glass to plastic packaging they mindful about packaging their orders in appropriately sized boxes. And they use this stuff that looks like cardboard raffia instead of packing peanuts. Totally safe to use as tinder if you have wood heat, or reuse/recycle, etc. I came across this a while back and it was life changing for me. I shared it with everyone I know. I bi polar, struggle with anxiety, too. I regards to blackout, i feel like they built a BR game with people who have never played BR. The drop speed/flight time is wrong, the loot mech is clunky and unintuitive, the circle wall, instead of being a passive thing that slowly gets everyone bunched together, is like a super active component that kicks your ass,. Its just a game mode that I really don enjoy and I played the heck out of blops multi player.. I did this. It was fun at first, but having to draw my brows on every day got really annoying. I also didn't like the texture difference between the real brow hairs at the front and then the tail drawn on with product, it looked really obvious. People like to talk about entitled video game players and mod users. Most of the time "entitlement" is used as a buzzword, but this? This shit? That filthy entitlement. That the behaviour when modders pull the plug and rightfully say: "I out. Went into work Friday feeling well rested and my eyes weren bloodshot to hell. Of course when Friday night rolled around I couldn stick with it and drank a lot. This always happens to me, I am able to 상주출장마사지 stop or moderate for a day or three then it goes back to the way it was. Ive had this teddy bear since I was a baby, it's probably a few years older than i am [17]. I used to love it as a child and literally took it everywhere with me and I still keep it in my room because of this. However when I was about 9 or 10 and started to grow out of the whole sleeping with your stuffed toys thing I'd put on the floor by my bed. Zero issues with lifting with PETG. Be careful removing the print; it not something I done personally, but some people manage to damage their glass because prints end up sticking too well. Let the bed cool some and if needed, another spritz of water can help release the edges of the print. He just borroed it and sent it home the next day. But before Miss Jemima Parrs father could get another rig to follow them they were so far away he couldent catch them before they got married. And they lived happy together forever afterwards.

1 note · View note

falseroar · 6 years

Text

Can You Wake Up? Part 11: Undercover Mode

((Here are links to Part 10: User Not Found and Part 1: Great Things))

It felt like you barely slept at all by the time morning came around. You listened to the noise coming from down the hall for a few minutes before you gave in and got up to see what was going on.

“Oh! Good morning, Y/N,” Mark said, jumping back with his hand raised as if he had just been about to knock at your door. “I was just, uh…”

He looked from the package in his hands to you and then just held it out.

“Thank you?” You took the box, which was just big enough that you needed both hands to hold it comfortably even though it wasn’t heavy.

“It, uh, was on the front step,” Mark said. He wasn’t making eye contact with you, until he glanced at your shirt and then looked at you with concern. “Are you okay?”

You looked down and realized that your faded to pink Google shirt had a couple of red spots on it now right about where your bandage was.

“Oh. It doesn’t hurt right now,” you said, pulling your collar back so you could see the bandage, just enough to know it needed to be changed.

“Hang on, I’ll go grab you some clothes,” Mark said before rushing off down the hall, past an open door where you could hear Bob and Wade arguing.

You looked down at the package again and took it into your room to open it. Ripping the tape off, you found an envelope sitting on top of a seemingly random group of objects. You opened the envelope first and pulled out a short letter written in ornate, cursive script.

Dear Y/N,

Some of us thought you might enjoy a little care package during your time away. I apologize for some of the more interesting gifts. They mean well.

We look forward to seeing you again. Call if you need anything.

Always yours,

Dark

It would have been almost sweet if it wasn’t coming from Dark. You tossed the letter aside and with a bit more care went through the contents of the box. There was a book that looked interesting, and a glance inside found “The Host thought Y/N might enjoy this.” written in shaky ink. There was a bunch of bandages, rubber-banded around a tube of pain cream and a box of Bugs Bunny bandaids, easy to guess who those were from. Someone had also stuck in a half-eaten jar of peanut butter and…was that a lock of hair? You avoided touching it as you pulled out a hastily wrapped paper bundle that had its own note attached to it.

“What’s that?”

You almost dropped it as you turned to look at Mark, who had stopped at the door.

“Just some gifts from the others,” you said, hoping that he wouldn’t look in the box. As weird as some of the stuff was, it was nice to know they put in the effort. “Dr. Iplier sent bandages, so that should help.”

Mark shrugged and held out some clean clothes. “I think these should be about the right size. Bathroom’s open if you want it.”

For a moment you were afraid Mark might try to talk some more, but after a moment of hesitation he walked away. By the time you grabbed the clothes and Dr. Iplier’s gift, you could hear Mark’s voice coming from one of the other bedrooms.

“You okay there, Sean? Not going back to sleep are you?”

Jack gave a muffled “no” that sounded like he was talking through a pillow.

“Wait a minute, sleep is for the weak…” Bob said. “That’s not the real Jack, get him!”

You would have loved to watch how the resulting pillow fight went, but the bathroom was calling your name. You ducked inside and locked the door, avoiding looking at your reflection in the mirror before dropping everything on the counter—including the paper-wrapped package you hadn’t meant to take with you.

You pulled the note off the package and read,

I thought of the perfect thing to send you! But apparently knives “aren’t an appropriate present,” whatever that means. The Jims said there was one thing Mama Jim said they should never leave home without, so we sent that instead!

It was signed with a pair of ‘W’s that were nearly bigger than the rest of the writing put together and a pair of Jims signed in almost identical handwriting.

You ripped open the paper and felt the heat in your face as you had to cover your mouth with both hands to keep from laughing.

Oh, God, did Dark see this?

You recovered, eventually, and walked out of the bathroom fresh from your shower with new bandages on your hands and chest and sporting one of Markiplier’s Sunset Van shirts. By the time you put the rest of your stuff back in your bedroom, it sounded like the guys had moved downstairs. You followed the noise down to the kitchen, where you were greeted by a few good mornings amidst all the chaos.

Except for Amy, who took one look at you and said, “Mark! Those are the clothes you gave them?”

“What’s wrong with them?” Mark asked.

“Dude, you can’t make them wear your merch,” Bob said.

“Well, excuse me, but it’s the only stuff I have around in a bunch of different sizes! At least they’re new and clean, right, Y/N? Not some hand-me-down Google shirt.”

You looked down at the shirt and shrugged, having not really thought about it. “But I liked the Google shirt too.”

“But what about other stuff?” Amy asked. “Socks, underwear, toothbrush?”

You looked away, embarrassed not just because Amy was pointing this out in front of the others. You weren’t sure what had surprised you more about your gift from Wilford and the Jims: the fact that it was underwear, or just how…lacy it all had been.

Comfortable, though.

Amy looked at you and asked, “How would you feel about going to some stores, maybe to the mall and getting you some essentials?”

Ethan, who had been trying to steal a bowl of cereal since he got in, suddenly perked up. “Ooh, I want to go shopping! Let these guys go to their stupid convention, we’ll have our own adventure, right, Y/N?”

“You’re not going?” you asked, already warming up to the idea. It meant less awkward time around Mark, for a start.

“Nah, I got a thing tomorrow,” Ethan said.

“’A thing,’” Mark said sarcastically. “Don’t lie to them Ethan, you’re just too cool to come with us and we all know it.”

“Yeah, I am! Isn’t that right, Kathryn?”

“Yeah, sure,” Kathryn said without looking up from her phone.

“I mean, I could see if I could get a visitor’s pass if you wanted to come with us,” Mark said, gesturing to himself and the other guys.

“No, I think this sounds like fun.” Honestly, the con sounded fun too, but you weren’t about to go anywhere with Mark right now.

“Yay!” Amy threw an arm around your shoulders and stuck her tongue out at Mark. “See you losers later!”

“Yeah!” Ethan walked out of the room with his stolen cereal and came back in a minute later. “Oh, I thought we were leaving right now.”

When you did leave, it was with Amy, Kathryn, Ethan, and Tyler, who admitted he had passed on this con because he had been to one just a few weeks before, all crammed into Amy’s car. This car ride wasn’t as bad as the last, but you still kept your eyes on your hands the whole time and tried to focus on the others laughing and joking around you.

You went by a few stores and eventually wound up at a thrift store, less to buy clothes for you at this point and more because Amy and Kathryn apparently knew the place and loved it. Everyone was messing around and trying on clothes by now. Amy managed to snag a pic of Ethan and Tyler in dresses, which Tyler swore would work great for a video idea he and Mark had been throwing around. While they went to find a dress in Mark’s size, you held up a shirt to your chest and turned to a nearby mirror to see how it looked.

That’s when you saw him behind you, a few rows in the other direction. He was peeking through the racks, either not bothering to be stealthy about it or just doing a really bad job at it. You turned around and he ducked back down a second too late.

“Y/N, what do you think of this one?” Tyler asked as he came around the aisle, holding up a blue floral print dress.

“Hang on a second,” you said, walking past Tyler and down the rows of racks, but there was no sign of him now. You heard the bell at the front door tinkle, but by the time you reached it he was gone.

“Something wrong?” Tyler asked, the dress now thrown over one shoulder.

“I think I just saw the Detective,” you said. “I mean, he was wearing these big sunglasses and the ugliest Hawaiian print shirt I’ve ever seen, but it was definitely him.”

“Oh, he must have been in ‘undercover mode’ then,” Tyler said. Catching the look you gave him, he explained, “Yeah, I see him around every now and then. He still takes cases, I think. Don’t worry, he’s ultimately harmless as long as Mark or the Col—Wilford aren’t around.”

“Okay, there was nothing undercover about that shirt. You could see that thing from space!”

Tyler sighed. “I don’t know, he watches these old detective shows and gets weird ideas. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you said, feeling more confused than anything. Mark had said something about how the Chef and the Detective were still around, but it hadn’t really sunk in. After all, the last time you saw the Detective—

You realized you were shaking, and tried to play it off by talking about some of the clothes on the rack behind Tyler. He chose not to say anything, and by the time everyone was ready to leave you had managed to calm down a lot, enough for something else to bother you.

Why was the detective watching you? Now that you thought about it, you had seen him at the airport yesterday too, when you were arguing with Mark. And why did he run away?

((End of Part 11. Thank you for reading! That lock of hair was from Yandereplier, because the best gift they could think of was something from Senpai.

Link to Part 12: Gone

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @determinedrevolutionary @cherrybomb-jaguar @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy ))

#markiplier #who killed markiplier #wkm district attorney #wkm mark #wkm detective #wilford warfstache #can you wake up #the detective just wants to be Tom Selleck #care package #mama jim knows best #fanfic

86 notes · View notes

funkymeihem-fiction · 7 years

Text

My Lovely Assistant - Chapter 1 (Junkenstein Meihem)

“Be careful with that, you oaf! FRAGILE! Can’t you read?!…Oh wait, guess y’can’t. Still, be careful with it!” Dr. Junkenstein scrambled after the hulking form of his Monster, who was carrying an enormous crate in both bulky arms. The crate had arrived on a ragged looking delivery wagon late that night, and Junkenstein had become so excited that he had dragged the thing up two sets of stairs all by himself, before realizing his more muscular creation could carry it up the other nineteen. Still babbling to himself, he swerved ahead of the hulking Monster and thrust a booted foot forward to kick open the door. The crate was finally delivered into its proper place in his upper spire labs, and was already drawing attention. Monster had stepped back and was eying it rather distrustfully, the zomnic prototypes scattered around the room all turned their heads, and even Scarecrow- one of his earliest and most useless tests at false life- had appeared to peek in another door, its glowing lenses whirring softly. Junkenstein turned to face the massive crate proudly, hands on his hips. “Can’t believe it’s finally here! This here’s a game-changer, boys! Turns out it’s not just the Witch who’s taken a stroll on the other side and come back, ooooh no. There’s others out there who have defeated death itself. This one…This one is going to be invaluable to my studies. Not like you lot, or you…or especially YOU!” He pointed in a very accusatory way at Scarecrow, who covered its face with its spindly straw hands and started uttering weepy noises. Junkenstein summarily ignored it, waving a hand at Monster, who had reappeared next to his side with a crowbar. “Well, what are you waiting for?! Get it open! Get it open right now!” The crowbar was jammed into the crate’s wood, pulling nails and sending splinters flying as the top was wrenched away. It clattered onto the ground nearby, and Junkenstein nearly dove into it, reaching his top half into the container as he began pulling away clumps of straw and cloth and soft cushions. With a shrieking “Ah-haaa!” he finally emerged a moment later, helping to prop up the form of…a woman? Though it was not a sort of woman that had ever been seen in a place like Eichenwalde before. She was a tiny thing, dressed in a strange purple foreign costume, her skin deathly pale save for the circles of rouge on her cheeks to give the illusion of lifelike rosiness. A domed hat with a feather lay perched atop her elaborate hair, and a scroll with strange markings lay across her face, almost obscuring her glasses. A pair of tiny fangs jutted over her pale lower lip. And she seemed to be quite…dead.

Junkenstein cackled gleefully, propping her rigor-mortis stricken form up against the side of the crate as he rummaged through the rest of it. Finding another smaller package, he ripped it open and procured a feather and a bottle of ink, along with a set of instructions. Sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth and adjusting his goggles, he dipped the quill into the ink and then leaned over to the woman’s symbolic paper slip across her forehead. Occasionally glancing towards the set of instructions, he changed several of the symbols, drawing dots or adding lines, and worked carefully for a minute or two before drawing back and waiting. Her eyes fluttered open behind her glasses, eerily pale and almost white before they began to darken and focus. She uttered a rasping noise as if trying to breathe, before reaching drowsily for the gleeful scientist that loomed over her. Her hands, ending sharp black claws, snagged the hem of his lab coat sleeves. “我在哪里?” she asked softly. “Right! Right! You’re awake, finally. I’m the famous, handsome, amazing Dr. Junkenstein -you’ve probably heard of me- and this is Eichenwalde Castle, which I’m about to be in charge of very, very soon. Here, here, up y’go.” He helped her sit up a little more as she held her head, clinging onto him a little more as she looked around at her strange surroundings, wide-eyed. The zomnic parts scattered around the room, twitching and grinding and in various stages of half life, were more than a bit eerie. And the lighting, shocking blue from the crackles of electricity on the conductors high above them, threw strange shadows across everything, including the massive collections of sharp tools, books, and almost torture-device looking contraptions that lay around everywhere. Monster said nothing, breathing heavily next to her crate. From its corner of the room, Scarecrow offered a stitched smile and a little wave. Junkenstein swerved abruptly back into her view, smiling with every single one of his sharp white teeth as she struggled to stand. “That’s it, love, take it slow. You and I have such a lot to talk about. Heh, might have outdone even the Witch with this one!…Don’t tell her I said that.” “这是什么地方?”She adjusted her glasses with one claw, peering at him with that dark gaze. “你是谁?” “Er, right. So, tell me about this whole…you know, dead thing, process. How did you do it? How did you come back?” “我怕极了…” “Wait a minute, d’you speak English!? How am I supposed to talk to you if you can’t talk!” “这让人伤脑筋.” Junkenstein bellowed and held the sides of his head, pulling at his wild tufts of hair. “Hrrrrngh! Really? REALLY? They send me a gibberish-speaking dead girl who can’t tell me how she got dead and then not dead? See, this is why you’ve always got to read the fine print! This whole thing is your fault!” He jabbed a finger at Monster, who was offering a hand to help the confused girl out of her shipping crate. “Fine, you know what, we’ll just run some tests on you later along with the others. You just…I don’t know, run along and play with the boys or something.” He stormed off towards his desk, throwing the ink pot across the room where it splattered against the wall and rolled away. Bending over the mound of papers across his desk, he angrily began double-checking over his schematics for the hundredth time, only distracted when he heard the soft shuffle of cloth and a curious noise behind him. Hop. Hop. Hop. The girl was moving like a rabbit, her knees locked together, hopping towards him with both arms straight out. She held out the bottle of ink he had thrown a little earlier, offering it out to him when she finally hopped into range, smiling with her teeny fanged smile. “你东西掉了?” she said, holding it forth. Junkenstein eyed her for a moment, then took the ink pot and threw it across the room again.

***

Eventually he had left for his study, needing more cross-references about omnic anatomy and the electrical current thereof. Grabbing another armful of book, he slumped down into his armchair and started flipping through them, listening to the crackle of the fireplace. Until…there was that sound again. Hop. Hop. Hop. “Go away! I already said you’re useless. Look, however you say it in your language. Goooo. A-waaay.” Junkenstein threw one arm out, trying to shoo away the girl as she hopped through the hallway and into his door. He was just about to get up and physically remove her yet again, when he heard the clink of china. She was holding a cracked tray with a steaming kettle and a cup and saucer, and several biscuits. Somehow she managed to balance it all quite flawlessly, even with her strange method of locomotion. The silverware barely rattled. “Uh. Wait, where’d you even get that?” “喝一杯茶?” She smiled, little pearly fangs glinting as she bent to offer the tray. He scrunched his nose in irritation, but the steam from the tea did smell good, and the sudden gurgle in his stomach definitely meant he’d forgotten to eat today, again. Begrudgingly accepting the tea tray, he dropped it with a clatter onto his table and began scarfing it down, barely even giving the boiling liquid time to cool. The girl waited, still half-smiling and eyes shining as he ate, spraying cookie crumbs everywhere onto his books as he did so. Between mouthfuls, he jabbed his pen at her. “All right, fine, points to you. You can make a pot of tea, big deal. My zomnics can make a pot of tea too…I mean, if I control them remotely. And they’re not very good at it with those clampers of theirs but…” He slurped down another cup of tea. “Look, just go play with Scarecrow or some such and don’t get in my way. I’ve got a lot of work to do and it turned out you’re no help at all!” Wordlessly, clearly not understanding a word he’d spoken, she gathered up the tray and brushed away the crumbs on his chest as he batted her claws away, before hopping out and heading back down the hall.

Junkenstein was left to his studies as the moon rose higher into the night sky. He was awoken the next morning by a large hand slamming down on the table next to him, and uttered a caterwauling shriek as he twisted and flailed in his chair, tilting backward with a crash. Staring up into the masked face of The Reaper, he clutched his pounding heart. “Why do you gotta do a bloke like that!?” he demanded. “Why not a little tap on the shoulder or a kiss on the cheek, blimey!” The Reaper’s glowing eyes stared down at him, pumpkin head grinning as ever, as an unearthly voice growled its depths. “She wants to see you.” “The Witch? The Witch of the Wilds is here? Right now?!” Junkenstein leapt upright, trying to adjust his coat around his dismally lanky body and smooth his hair down. The Reaper snorted, clearly not impressed with his attempts -or impressed with the man himself- and gestured to the open door. “Down in the kitchens.” “Wh- The kitchens, why there? Okay uh, lemme go and talk to her.” “That’s generally the idea for this visit,” Reaper replied dryly, examining his talons. Junkenstein patted himself into some semblance of order, grabbing an armful of books and papers and hurrying down the long halls and stairs; down, down, down through nearly the whole tower until he came to the little pantry and kitchen area near the very bottom. To his surprise, he heard laughter from behind the door, and bashed it open with his bony shoulder as he staggered in, nearly spilling everything he was carrying. “Oi! Um, d-did you want to see me, ma’am? Er, miss? Lady, Witch, Ma’am.” The kitchen was, for once, full of people. Monster was leaning up against a nearby wall, arms folded, Reaper had mysteriously appeared in a chair from nowhere, and even Scarecrow was lurking by the door of the wine cellars. The Witch, the most powerful of all creatures he knew, was sitting casually at his table, her hat tilted back and a smile on her beautiful face. For the first time in a very long while, she actually seemed happy to be here. With another airy laugh, she gestured for the scientist to sit down. “My dear doctor, you should have told me you’d gotten a jiangshi. Perhaps she was meant to be a surprise? You know, I’m usually a little…reserved…on your choice of servants, but this one is different. She’s absolutely delightful.” “Gotten a whatnow?” Junkenstein echoed, scratching his head on the edge of a rolled-up scroll. “Delightful who?” Hop. Hop. Hop. The girl came hopping over with another tray, set out with cream and sugar and another kettle of tea. Smiling her fanged smile, she began speaking in that rapid up-and-down singsong language to the Witch. To his surprise, the Witch actually responded in kind, and the two prattled on for a bit and occasionally gestured to him in a way that was rapidly raising his proverbial hackles. The Witch gave the girl a nod. “Mei has told me all about how you were the one who woke her up from the long sleep and have given her a new home here. Where ever did you actually manage to find a genuine jiangshi, much less get her all the way here?” Junkenstein’s mouth went dry, coughing softly. When he’d filled out the order form for the ‘Living Dead of the Orient’, on page 32 of Dr. Amazo’s Exotic Curios, his first thoughts had been to use the knowledge this ‘living dead’ specimen would no doubt grant him to master the art of life and death, until he could overthrow the Witch herself and lead his undead armies on to the rest of the world, veiling them all in endless night of slaughter and mocking them as they had once mocked him. Instead he cleared his throat and blindly reached out one lanky arm until it found the girl, pulling her tiny form in against his side in what he hoped was a chummy way. “Yeah! Uh, you know, I got my ways. One day I thought to myself, I thought, we could definitely use the services of a jongchi to-” “Jiāngshī,” the girl corrected gently in her strange accent. “Gesundheit,” he replied, rubbing his hand up and down her arm in a rather nervous way. “I thought, we could use a sort of jonkshi in the ranks. So I had her brought here and she’s been very…helpful…?” “Well you’ve chosen an absolutely lovely assistant,” The Witch said, taking another sip of her tea. “I assume she will also be helping us with the plans against Eichenwalde? Everything is on schedule, as you’ve said?” “Oh! Oh yeah, she’ll be doing all sorts of assistant things. It’s all in keeping with your plans, ma’am. The Summoner has agreed to your terms. The zomnics are all ready to go, the RIP-wheels and bombs are all charged, we’ve got this big lug here- “ he gestured to the Monster, who merely grunted in reply, “-and whatserface, Mei, she’s ready to…erm…hop?” The girl pulled out of his grip, hopping back towards the kitchens once more as Junkenstein dumped the collection of books and scrolls onto the table. “A few hiccups here and there, maybe, but everything will be ready for that night, mark my words.” The Witch waved away all his cunning plans and schematics. “That will not be necessary. I trust you will have everything exactly to specification in time. In accordance with our deal, of course…Dr. Junkenstein.” He felt his blood grow a little colder but forced a smile. “O-of course.” “Then please don’t let us keep you, Doctor. You should return to your work.” The Witch smiled back at him, and in a ripple of black magic, both she and the Reaper were gone, leaving nothing but a few fading wisps of smoky black in their wake. Junkenstein exhaled noisily and slumped into his chair, rubbing a gloved hand over his stubbled chin. “Well, this all a fine howdoyado.” His eyes slanted to where Mei had vanished into the other kitchen. “Well, looks like you got on her good side, at least. So I guess you won’t be on the dissection table as soon as we thought. So you know, congratulations and whatnot to you.” She came hopping back out and placed a bowl of fried eggs and ham in front of him before starting to clear away the tea trays, still smiling at him. “我喜欢你.” He blinked down at the meal, biting back a string of drool from his lip. “All right. I got some sort of Chinese zombie assistant who can’t understand anything I want to say, but she can cook, and the Witch likes her and DON’T THINK I DON’T SEE YOU THERE, RACK OFF-” He turned abruptly to bellow at Scarecrow as it tried reaching for the tea, causing the miserable creation to run off out the door. He turned back to the startled Mei. “All right, and she’s sort of cute in a…way? And the Witch likes her. And I guess she’s not the only one who’s not much good for conversation, eh, Pigface?” The Monster grunted. “And the Witch likes her,” he mused, shoveling a spoonful of eggs into his jaws, not even noticing where Mei leaned near his chair and stared adoringly at his throat as he ate. “You know…we might actually be able to make this work.”

#meihem #junkmei #meirat #junkrat #junkenstein #dr junkenstein #mei #jiangshi #vampire mei #roadhog #monster #overwatch #overwatch au #eichenwalde #poor scarecrow #writing #fanfiction

279 notes · View notes

lily-in-japan · 5 years

Photo

DAY 1

I woke up at 7:30am, feeling more alive then I possibly have ever felt. After taking a shower, facetiming Georgia in Glasgow, and brushing my teeth, I headed out from my hotel at around 9 and went to Shinjuku with absolutely no itinerary. My first inclination was to deliberately not structure my time in Tokyo in the hopes of coming across hidden / lesser known wonders that would become mine, and not every tourist who entered Tokyo’s border’s. However, after wandering around Shinjuku for about an hour trying to find a breakfast spot (which turned out fruitless) and getting pretty lost and intimidated by the stacks of shops that lined the streets, all with their own individual sign that screamed at me as I navigated my surroundings, I decided that maybe having a little structure or general idea of what I wanted to see could be helpful to me in the long run.

In the midst of this train of thought, I came across an Italian-style restaurant that looked pretty snazzy, and decided to give it a try. When I entered into the space, I was met with tablecloths and other fabrics pulsating red, white, and green -- the colors of the Italian flag. Almost everything in the restaurant was one of its three colors, even down to the napkins and table feet, which I found to be pretty impressive. I ordered pomodoro pasta, but misunderstood what the waiter had told me about a free drink that was included with my meal, which then transformed into a (broken) English speaking conversation which made me feel disheartened, as I wanted to understand but got flustered and then subsequently lost in the conversation. As I was eating my pasta alone with only one other customer (who quickly left), I was joined by two people who gave me the impression that they were on a first date. The man was smoking a cigarette that smelled like wood, and the woman was laughing and constantly shifting her position so that one hand was resting on her face longingly, lending the impression through her gesture that she was intently listening to the man’s stories and jokes. A large group of friends or coworkers followed them -- they were a pretty rowdy crowd and collectively drained about 30 beers in 45 minutes. When I paid for the meal, one of the other waiters asked if I was half Japanese because I could speak Japanese well, and after I told her that I was not and that I had just been studying for a while, we both laughed it off and had a nice and funny conversation about comparing New York, which she had been to once, and Tokyo, which I had been to once. We exchanged LINE IDs, and I went on my way, deciding to go to Harajuku next to see if I found any cute clothing or accessories to take with me to Kanazawa for school.

After deciding whether or not to walk or take the train to Harajuku, almost an hour away by foot, I crazily decided to walk. Though I had Google Maps on me, I figured asking a person on the street wouldn’t hurt, so I approached a group of older women who subsequently virtually adopted me as their own. After talking amongst themselves, they brought me to the police to further inquire about the potential walk to Harajuku, as they were on their way to the train anyway. We talked about the importance of long walks and travel they had done in the past, and after trying to convince the policeman on my behalf that I was a fan of taking long walks and failing, having the policeman tell me that it was impossible and that it was imperative to take the train, they individually shook my hand and went on their way. As did I, to Harajuku by foot, walking along a narrow winding path which transitioned into Yoyogi, where I saw the JR (Japanese Rail) headquarters and came across a book swap, where I found and bought a gorgeous manga drawn and written by Suehiro Maruo, an author I had never heard of but felt the need to read.

I eventually found myself entering the wild nature of Harajuku’s Takeshita street, bobbing through a packed crowd of hundreds of people forming two opposing masses that moved whether one was ready to or not. I explored many stores, walking up and down narrow stairs to enter into large warehouses packed tight with cool-looking punk clothing, streetwear, silky flower print dresses with white collars, and makeup galore. After waiting on line for a bathroom in one of these warehouses for 30 minutes, having been on my feet since the early AM, I was beginning to get exhausted, but still managed to snag a few awesome items, including a white lace collar that goes over any shirt or dress as a separate piece, sakura (cherry blossom) earrings, a Birth of Venus-esque bra and panty set that was too good to pass up, and a lot of fashion inspiration from people I saw around me.

On my way to the train back to my hotel, I strolled through Yoyogi Park, where the first signs of the blooming cherry blossom trees showed their face. While the park was fairly empty, as it was getting dark, there were many groups of people gathered under a large patch of land covered with 桜の木, playing catch, doing frisbee, having picnics, and holding hands on a bench on a romantic spring date. I felt so at peace, and sat on one of the benches next to a couple for almost an hour, reading my new manga and feeling the cool night wind against my face. It was a nice change of pace from the rest of the day, which was sunny and hot, in the mid 70s, and provided me with other sensory sensations that invigorated my skin and made me feel happy and alive.

I went to a soba/udon shop for dinner, where I was met with a vending machine where I chose my dinner selection after entering the appropriate amount of coins. The machine was old and run down, and did not have some of the options I saw outside on the window menu; as a result, I stared at it, trying to answer the questions swirling around my head, for longer than I thought I did, apparently, for the chef to my left began putting noodles in bowls and telling me that they were udon, soba, etc. in English with a large grin on his face. After replying in Japanese, we both began laughing, and he made me a delicious tonkatsu with a side of soba on the house.

I ended my night with a mortifying experience in a Lawson, a type of conbini (convenience store) that is very popular in Japan and is a lifeline in various ways for many people, especially as a place where you can buy a quick pre-made lunch that is delicious at a cost that is affordable. I bought a cup of jelly with mandarin oranges inside, a desert I am particularly fond of. However, when I was producing the cash needed to buy it, coming to 147 yen, requiring a number of different and specific coins that were crudely lodged in my wallet, I dropped all of the change I had in various intervals, becoming increasingly embarrassing every time I did it. The cashier stared blankly at me, while the other cashier giggled quietly and another customer picked up some of the dropped change to return to me. I finally produced the sufficient amount, quickly shuffled out of the store, and made it my mental priority to buy a change purse ASAP, realizing that unlike in America where change is not as important as dollars are, there are the equivalent of 1 and 5 dollar bills in yen, making change of higher importance.

When I got back to my hotel, I decided to cool down after the embarrassment attached to the experience I had just had, and tried out the small-scale onsen that was on the 9th floor, but did anything but cool down. I, along with 3 other Japanese women who were staying at the hotel, stayed in the pool for a total of about 10 minutes before all collectively almost passing out. After working collaboratively to get the cool water dispenser to work, to no avail, I went back to my room, popped open the jelly treat that I had temporarily stored in my fridge, watched a dramatic TV show under the covers, and drifted off to sleep. While hectic and overwhelming, I couldn’t have asked for a better first full day, and am glad I was able to approach it headfirst alone.

0 notes

missmaclay · 7 years

Text

I could make this post about my entire 1,5 week trip through the UK, but I’m sure y’all only want to hear about the last day in Liverpool ;).

Quick recap of where I’ve been and what I’ve seen though; Telford (met Jeremy Jordan, David Harewood, Brit Morgan, Rahul Kohli and more), London (met Mehcad Brooks, Stephen Amell and much more), went to the Tower of London, Tower Bridge, Ripley’s, Wembley, Bath, Stonehenge, Windsor castle, Big Ben, Leicester square, Piccadilly and spend a lot of time in the Underground. Also saw the new Alien film AND Beauty and the Beast.

Anyway, that’s not what y’all wanna hear. Here’s my recap of May 29th;

I woke up in London after 2 days of HVFF. Went downstairs for my lovely UK brekkie (HASH BROWNS!) and then jumped in the shower and off I went. To Euston station to catch a train to Liverpool. Apparently, it was the first train to go straight to Liverpool from London that day, earlier ones were cancelled. Thank God I’d splurged on a first class ticket. I heard people had been standing the entire trip (2 hours!). Anyway, the train ride is beautiful. Would have been better if it hadn’t been raining, lol.

Got to Liverpool a bit delayed due to a signal failure (uh-huh..) and the taxi stand at Liverpool Lime Street is insane. So many folks needed one. BUT I got to my hotel for around 4, thankfully. Since I was around the corner from the venue, I saw the Cavern already when the taxi dropped me off. Queue the nerves. The hotel was beautiful too. Beatles song playing as you walked in, lol.

I hadn’t eaten since 9 am that morning so I Googled mapped the area and saw that there was a Gregg’s nearby. Perfect, sausage roll it is. I was there half an hour before closing time, but apparently they don’t care in Liverpool, because the door was locked. Oh well, a bag of crisps and an apple it is. Met up with @amyroot near the venue and we walked around a bit, the area is pretty cool!

Anyway we waited outside like we thought we had to when we were informed that the line had already started inside. We rushed downstairs and joined the queue. This was at 6pmish.

The earlier concert started at 4pm and our gig was supposed to start at 8pm, but they were still doing M&Gs so everything ran a little late. No problem, everyone should get to do their M&G but my damn legs were killing me, lol.

Pleasantly surprised there was some seating in the venue when we finally got in. Not near the front, but it’s OK, we could sit. I’ll upload some actual videos from the concert so I won’t talk about that, but them singing “Imagine” and then bringing Anni on stage were awesome.

Before the M&Gs started, they had an auction for St. Vincent’s school, all DC stuff. I have to admit that the two guys doing the auction were hilarious. Absolutely hilarious. They auctioned some stuff in the venue and said the rest would go online (haven’t seen it yet anywhere?)

Onto our M&Gs. I have no idea how many people were there but it seemed like a never ending line, lol. I think they started around 10/11ishpm with the first people. I think they first said you would get a photo, 1 minute to talk and 2 things to sign, but of course all of that went out the window pretty soon. They managed to have a pretty good system. First person you saw was Nathan (who gives amazing hugs), Gemma or Angelo would take your photo with Nathan, then when the person in front of you had finished talking with Chyler, you’d move onto her and get hugs, photos and autographs, etc. Pretty good system.

Nathan ended up walking/running around the hall and thanking people in line for their patience as it was taking soooo long. Folks who had to catch a bus/train/whatever were pushed to the front, that was a good idea.

I was eating tic tacs by that time (it was nearing 1am and we were still in line) because I hadn’t had dinner, but they hadn’t either. Nathan was having a discussion with someone in line, leaning over the barrier when Chyler tried to get his attention for something. He was too focused on whoever he was talking to though, so he didn’t hear Chyler calling for him. Her calls for “babe. love. honey. love of my life.” were completely ignored until the guy (Neil?) from the Canvern lovingly shouted “Nathan darling!” very loudly, lol. THAT’s when he turned around.

Around 2am we were finally at the front of the line. The security who ticked your name off of the VIP list was hilarious, too. All the staff were. Pronouncing my name for him the way it’s supposed to be didn’t help the poor guy. To be fair, I couldn’t understand him either. Damn accent, lol.

Aaaaanyway, it was finally our turn and Nathan straight off the bat asked about my necklace and we proceeded to geek out for several minutes over PS4 games. We apparently took so long I looked passed him to see Chyler on her own, the person in front of me already left. Oops. I hugged Nathan (and in my haste forgot to take a photo with him) and rushed over to Chyler. Now. As I’m sure you can imagine, I cannot explain or descibe how that was. To see Chyler up close, giving her a hug, talking to her. No words. She asked what I was talking to Nathan about as we both looked so passionate about the subject, lol. She’s absolutely amazing. Gave her a massive bag of gummi bears and she loved it, lol. I printed off a photo from the I love you scene which she signed with “I <3 you” which... asdfghjkl. We chatted for a bit (fun fact; the dibs gun is NOT the gun her son drew, which she talked about at SDCC I think?) and I thanked her for coming over and doing these things, and she thanked ME for coming over. Can you believe that? Like, duh. Nathan was off to bathroom at that point so I moved to the side to give Amy some time with Chyler while I waited to Nathan to come back to get a double photo (him and Chyler) which we then did in turns. It was great.

We walked off to the side to collect everything and put photos etc. away when I realised I hadn’t had my photo with Nathan. I didn’t want to interrupt their whole thing they had going so we waiting until the very last person had gone (4 am people!) for us to go back and get the last photos. Nathan was very happy to oblige and we even snagged another one with Chyler as the lighting was pretty awful where we first were. I had to pull poor Chyler away from her McNuggets, that was probably the first food she’d seen since 3pm, lol.

Managed to actually say what I wanted to say to Chyler at that time (I was so nervous before) and thanked her for everything she’s doing for us as a community and even though we have Twitter it’s impossible for her to see every reaction so I wanted to personally say we all appreciate how she fights for us.

We got caught talking a bit to the people from Charity Pulse and St. Vincent’s too, lovely people. Ended up nearly cleaning out the venue as we were the last people there (those big boxes aren’t even that heavy). Nathan AGAIN thanked us for coming said we were ‘amazing’ and then we finally walked out of there.

It was 5am when I finally calmed down enough to goto sleep and I looked out my window and it was daylight already.

When I woke up, everything hurt from so little sleep, of course. Went downstairs for my last day of UK brekkie (HASH BROWNS!). I walked over to the corner of the room as I didn’t want to take up a 4 person table by myself but I was shoo’d away to another side of the room as they’d already made up these tables for lunch. Well, okay, whatever. I plopped down at a 4 person table and as I look up I see Nathan and their 3 kids also enjoying a UK brekkie, they were staying at the same hotel as me, lol.

As they left he recognized me and said hi and we wished eachother a good day and that was that. Spent some time shopping and then went to the airport (The driver was an Everton supporter, which isn’t good for me as a Liverpool supporter) and went home.

I’m a little flu-y now but I’m enjoying going through the videos and photos. It was an amazing day and they were very positive about doing a gig in Amsterdam so I hope to see them again very soon.

#chyler leigh #east of eli #nathan west

18 notes · View notes

annakie · 7 years

Photo

I’ve been meaning to make a post about my love for Mystery Science Theater 3000, and how it’s influenced me for so much of my life, and about the new episodes, and now this.

So, getting to see Trace Beaulieu and Frank Conriff riff live last night is a good of an excuse to do it as any.

Long post and a few more pics, including some kinda cool Manos stuff, below.

Like a lot of MST3k fans of old, I discovered the show by being bored and channel surfing in the 90′s, finding this show where these 3 guys kept talking over a movie, and eventually sticking around long enough to see a few host segments and start to enjoy the show.

I honestly couldn’t tell you what the first MST3k episode I sat through from beginning to end first, though it may have been Frist Spaceship on Venus, in a rerun. I know I became a fan before Joel left, my senior year of high school. I clearly remember watching the last few Joel episodes, being sad he left, and then being shocked when Mike showed up. I liked Mike just as much and was in awe when I found USENET about a year later and read through many of the great Joel vs Mike flamewars on rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc.

I didn’t post a whole lot on the group, though I did a little. At the time, MST3k to me was this really cool under-ground-y feeling thing, few people I talked to knew what it was (though I converted many), the first fandom I participated in online, and my favorite show.

My family didn’t always have cable, it usually depended on how bored my dad was, he’d subscribe and cancel on a whim, so when we had it, I recorded the hell out of the episodes. When we didn’t, sometimes my grandma did, so when I could, I’d head over to her place with a VHS tape and hang out with her while we watched the show. I think she didn’t really love the show, but she loved me coming over to hang out with her.

I still have a box full of my MST3k VHS tapes. I even used to circulate them sometimes, for awhile when we had 2 VCRs at the house, thanks to help from USENET tape trading circles.

In 1995 or so was when I realized I was living in El Paso, going to UTEP, and it dawned on me that I might be able to dig up information on Manos: The Hands of Fate. The Internet was a much smaller place back then, and we didn’t have the benefit of things like IMDB, so even after digging online I couldn’t figure out an exact timeframe for the release of the movie. I spent probably 12 or so hours skimming through months and months worth of microfiche scans of the El Paso Times and El Paso Sun Herald looking for some mention of the movie.

I eventually hit jackpot and found not only some advertisements for the premiere, but also the review that was written the next day after the premiere. I printed out scans of the movie poster advertisements and snail mailed them to the guy who ran the biggest MST3k fansite at the time, then typed out the transcript of the reviews and another short article about the movie for USENET. I’m fairly certain we wouldn’t have the movie poster image for Manos online if it wasn’t for me, and the guy who put them on his site.

The images have faded and the pages have gotten a bit stuck together after 20ish years, but I still have the printouts I didn’t send.

I also remember the night the show premiered on Scifi, I drove to Las Cruses with a friend after a long day at a water park where I got super sunburned to watch the episode with my brother and sister-in-law. I was so dehydrated and sun-sick that I think I had to run to the bathroom a few times, but it was worth it. MST3k had been saved.

Round about 1996 I decided I needed a solid Internet name that would stick, especially since I was chatting on IRC a lot and joined the Scifi Channel’s IRC channel, since MST3k was now on Scifi, and became one of the regulars on the server. I’d managed to pick one of the very few copies of the MST3k Amazing Colossal Episode Guide that had come to El Paso, so I flipped through the book until I landed on episode #422 - The Day the Earth Froze. That was already one of my favorite episodes, and the heroine of the not-that-bad-for-a-MST3k-episode was named Annakie. That felt just weird enough to be an internet handle, and just obscure enough that only MSTies might get the origin.

I’ve been Annakie on the internet ever since. I wouldn’t learn for a good 15 years that Annakie is actually some people’s real name, and so the last few years it’s been harder to snag my name on sites, but I try.

I joined the fanclub. MSTie #54377. I still have several of my old newsletters.

(Uh the newsletter wasn’t “from Sergio”. My boyfriend at the time had sent me a Christmas present, my mom wrote that on the newsletter when she left them both in my room that day.)

The Scifi channel IRC server would host chats with the stars of various shows, and occasionally that included MST3k. Once, Kevin Murphy picked his nose at me.

I was so excited to be spending the summer in Dallas the year the MST3k movie came out. It was showing at a theater, in a location I was near to, the first week I was in Dallas. Unfortunately, I didn’t have control over where we were going that evening. We did go to a movie that night, but not MST3k. The people I was with promised we’d go see the movie next week (or at least drop me off.)

It wasn’t in theaters anymore the next weekend. I was quietly devastated and only simmered with rage for a few weeks. :) I eventually got to see it, by special ordering the VHS for more than I could afford to spend many months later. I still have that VHS tape, damnit.

When the end came, I was living in Dallas, but couldn’t possibly afford cable. I scavenged the show when I could. The syndicated one-hour version of the show hosted by Mike-As-James-Lipton was a particular godsend. I’d been unable to watch most of the last couple of seasons, but managed to get a friend’s parents to record the last episode for me.

Eventually, I was able to afford a house, and cable TV, and managed to catch up on most of the SciFi episodes that I missed before they, too went off the air. The morning that the final MST3k rerun aired on SciFi I sat on my couch, drank a mimosa and cried a little when it ended.

By that time MST3k had been a part of my life, and one of my favorite things for about a dozen years. I had a giant poster of Mike, the Bots and the Mads that had been stuck up and pulled down from my childhood bedroom, to a dorm room, back to my room in my family’s house, then four apartments in Dallas. I hadn’t put it up in my house because the corners were torn off and I wanted to get it framed. Never have. It’s around here somewhere. I instead took an 8x10 glossy I’d picked up somewhere, probably ordered it online, and framed it. A few years later, I managed to snag a rare MST3k The Movie poster on ebay for something outrageous, like $75 or something. It was worth it. It’s still framed and hanging in my house.

So yeah, so for awhile, that was the end.

I followed what all the alums did, like many did. I read Timmy Big Hands, but Rifftrax was exciting. I haven’t gone to as many Rifftrax shows as I should have or bought as many as I should have, but I do support them when I can. When Cinematic Titanic was new, they came to Dallas and I went to that show. At the time, the biggest thrill I’d had. I didn’t stay after to meet them, I’d promised a friend we’d go out when I got out of the show and I am still really, really kicking myself for that decision because I could have had that meet and greet moment with Trace, Frank, Joel, Josh and Mary Jo. It was a really great night, and at the time, one of the most awesome nights of my life.

A few years later, I’d gotten super into The Thrilling Adventure Hour, and finally got to go see my first show in LA at Largo for the 2014 Sparks Nevada’s I’m from Earth Day Special. One of the episodes was written by Bill Corbett and he also guest starred in it. I was thrilled to get to see and talk to several Workjuice Players who I had met three weeks earlier at Emerald City Comic Con, but honesty, my best memory of that night was getting to meet Bill Corbett, even briefly.

Last year when Joel announced the Kickstarter, I took a serious look at my finances and came up with a number I felt was OK to donate. It was enough for a few decent rewards, and best of all, my name in the credits of an episode. (I haven’t gotten to that episode even yet but I included “Annakie” as my middle name when I filled out the backer kit questionnaire.)

I was skeptical, but if Joel was behind it, I decided to trust it. As great as Rifftrax is (and it is!) and Cinematic Titanic was, there’s just nothing like MST3k itself. So I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the Kickstarter was funded and watched the live stream at the end of the campaign. I was a bit trepidacious about the new cast, though I’m a fan of Felicia, am OK with Patton and had never heard of any of the other guys. I felt better once it was clear the rest of the cast was invited back and some agreed to make appearances.

I decided basically to trust Joel, and go in with an open mind. The big MST3k reunion show where Joel and Jonah riffed together set any doubts that I still had at ease anyway. Netflix picking up the show was a huge relief.

I’m still not done with the season. I watched most of the first episode the day it came out, then decided to stop and give my views to Netlfix.

I love it. Jonah is fantastic, and I love him just a much as Joel and Mike. The hardest thing for me to get over has been a new voice for Tom -- Barron is GREAT, we just had the same Tom for so long. The new Mads are great. I like the riffing pace. It’s still the same show, still my favorite show. I actually want to write a lot more on this but this post is really long. But suffice it to say, I agree with almost everyone else on the new show. When do we get a season 12 pickup?

So despite the fact that I follow both Trace and Frank on twitter, and the Alamo Drafthouse near me, I somehow didn’t notice that The Mads Are Back was coming to Dallas until last week. Luckily, there were still (very few) tickets left to Saturday’s performance. Apparently, they did an entirely different movie on Friday, but that was sold out.

I didn’t know they were going to be doing a meet and greet before the show, and since I was going alone I ended up not arriving until about 15 minutes before the show started. I managed to hop into line just before the line got cut off behind me, and, though it was rushed, I got to shake both Trace and Frank’s hands, thank them for coming to Dallas, and got my now very used and fragile Amazing Colossal Episode Guide signed, right on the “The Day the Earth Froze” page. I mentioned I was having them sign that page since I go by Annakie on the internet, and so they signed it to Annakie. :)

(You can see how the pages are starting to fall off the binding there. I’ve read the book once or twice.)

I wore a Thrilling Adventure Hour shirt, Frank commented on it, which made me particularly happy.

The show was great (except for the really annoying people sitting near me, who nearly got thrown out and I guess eventually were too drunk to stay), and they did a Q&A afterward.

I think we MiSTies are so lucky these days. The show went from cable access, to Comedy Central, then to SciFi. We eventually got Rifftrax, and Cinematic Titanic, and now we have The Mads doing their own thing, and.... the show itself is back. Aside from following a few MST3k related blogs on tumblr, a few groups on Facebook, and most of the cast on twitter. I haven’t really been in the central part of the fandom in a long awhile, (though I have made a few gifs) but when I dip my toes in, it’s still a pretty good place.

It also brings me a lot of joy to see so many new people discovering the show. People who were born during or even after the run of the show jumping in and loving it, too, is just so awesome.

Next year, the show turns 30, and it’s still as great as ever, and maybe even stronger than ever. Whatever they do next, I’m on board.

#mst3k #mystery science theater 3000 #frank conniff #trace beaulieu #mst3000 #annakie's mst3k stuff #annakie's mst3k gifs

27 notes · View notes

technicallymilkshakes · 7 years

Text

Extraordinary ❂

Genre: Fluff Member: Kyungsoo Word Count: 2000

“Wah, it’s the ocean!”

It was that moment before the sun rose, coloring the edge of the visible world in warmth that you couldn’t yet feel. You huddled into your jacket and waddle-ran your way to the edge of the surf. Even those few steps measured the progress of the rising sun as it leapt to break up the night.

Your companion followed at a more sedate pace.

“Look, Kyungsoo, it’s the ocean!”

You pointed excitedly at the water.

“You’re acting like this is the first time you’ve seen the ocean before,” he said as he came to a stop next to you.

You kept pointing insistently at the water, waiting with some impatience for him to follow the line from your face to your shoulder to your outstretched finger, an exclamation point which led to the sea.

“…Is it?”

“No. But I’ve never come during the winter. It’s so pretty! Let’s make a wish!”

Someone else might find the beach dirty. There were rocks and seaweed strewn all along it, in addition to the occasional piece of trash. What sand it possessed looked grey and cold, blotted with sketches of black. But compared to the small section of beach that had been meticulously cleaned for filming, this was the more beautiful. Everything, from the black sock stranded on the edge of the tide to the dried out jellyfish to the two tracks of shoe prints leading to where you both stood spoke of it as something living and loved. There was a history in it, and now your presence would be imprinted upon it.

“You know that’s not something people normally do, right?”

His voice pulled you up from where you had been examining the Cinderella sock, calculating its dimensions and wondering who amongst the EXO members it would fit best. You cast him a cutting look, eyes narrowing even more as his lips began to quirk up into a smile.

“That’s not a word I’d like associated with me, thank you very much,” you sniffed.

He shook his head.

“You’re strange.”

“Thank you! Now, let’s see, where we were…” You clasped your hands together and rested your chin on the points of your index fingers. “I hope that Kyungsoo’s newest movie will be a major success—”

Kyungsoo moved to put his hands over his ears. “Isn’t it bad luck to tell someone else your wishes?”

“—that I’ll be able to go to Hawaii this year, aaaaand that I can finally have Kyungsoo’s homemade kimchi spaghetti this year!” You screwed your eyes up tight, then concentrated on your wishes and blew on the palm of your hand to send them on their way.

He shoved you lightly with his shoulder and you staggered sideways overdramatically.

“Those aren’t wishes, that’s just stuff you purposely wanted to say in front of me…”

“Hush. It’s your turn.”

He gave you an unimpressed look and you fluttered your hands near his face.

“Hurry, hurry!”

“Alright, alright. Okay. What should I wish for?”

“Something besides health and happiness.”

“But I honestly do wish for that.”

“And nothing else?”

He looked out at the water and seemed to struggle with himself. The sun had just broken free from the horizon and its light sparkled on the tips of the waves. Off in the distance, where the water flat-lined, a couple of ships were silhouetted against the sun. It was far from quiet here, even if the atmosphere was still and serene. Seagulls cried above the noise of the waves, and far down the beach to your left, there was an assistant calling for you.

“I hope to remember that each moment is irreplaceable, to take it a step at a time. Ahead seems like an insurmountable distance, but it’s only when I look behind that I realize how far I’ve come.”

You smiled and turned towards him, reaching up to ruffle a hand through his hair. He looked so young like this. His pensive look broke into one of annoyed humor and he ducked his head to escape your grasp.

You started to skip down the beach past him before you turned around and told him, “Looks like I’ll just have to be your wish fairy, because you’re terrible at this.”

“Thank you for your hard work!” You and Kyungsoo bowed towards the crew. It had turned bitterly cold in the afternoon, so you had brought coffee to the set earlier. Those crew members that had managed to snag a cup threw grateful smiles at the two of you as they passed, which you returned with a beaming grin. After all, a happy crew meant a happy work environment.

Even though Kyungsoo only had a few appearances slated for today, he had had to remain for the duration of the shoot, waiting in the wings on standby. While he waited, he alternated between practicing his lines, talking to his colleagues, and checking his phone, even taking a nap at one point.

But you, to your credit, had not remained idle either. Once the majority of the crew had vacated, you put your hand between his shoulder blades.

“Let’s go,” you said as you began to steer him towards the car.

You plopped yourself in the driver’s seat, adjusting yourself as Kyungsoo buckled up in the seat next to you.

“Where are we going,” he asked as you threw the car into reverse.

“To the next item on your schedule.”

You snuck a look at his face. His look of confusion melted into one of nervousness.

“What? What item?”

“Getting forgetful in your old age?” you sing-songed.

“At least tell me if I need to prepare something. What’s it for? Will I be the only member there?” He was already taking to his phone, probably pulling up a list of his activities in an attempt to find what he hadn’t lost in the first place.

You shook your head, biting your lip to prevent a chuckle from slipping out.

“No, no need to prepare. Don’t worry about it. It won’t even seem like work.”

His phone continued to light up the car cabin.

You drove for about an hour before you reached your destination. At one point, Kyungsoo had turned on the radio. He had hunted through the channels until he settled on one of his regulars, a foreign music station, then he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. You didn’t know for a long while if he was asleep. You only knew he was awake now because he was once again on his phone, scrolling through with a small frown on his lips. He wore that expression habitually. It was the face he made when he was absorbed.

In fact, he was so absorbed that he hadn’t even realized you had arrived until you had parked and turned the music off.

He looked up from his phone.

“Are we here?”

“Yup!”

He leaned forward to look out the windshield. Then he looked back at you, his frown deeper. He opened the car and got out, and you hurriedly followed his example. You didn’t want to miss the look on his face.

You hadn’t.

His eyes were wide, his mouth open slightly and the lips twitching undecidedly between a smile and words. He settled for both.

“How’d you know I wanted to come here?”

You tapped the side of your nose and smiled mischievously at him.

“I’m your wish fairy, remember? Now come on, I’m cold!”

You didn’t need to say another word. He tugged a hat on low over his face, shut his door, then came around and slung an arm over your shoulder, propelling you inside.

“I can’t believe you ordered jjamppong.”

The waiter had just served your meals. Kyungsoo had ordered jjamppong and you had spicy crab stew. The steam from both of your bowls combined rose and colored your cheeks.

Kyungsoo looked up from his still boiling bowl of jjamppong.

“But their jjamppong is supposed to be the best in Korea.” His eyes were wide and earnest. He followed far too many food bloggers for his own good.

“But it’s so…mundane.”

Kyungsoo dipped a spoon into the broth and took a sip. His eyes didn’t close, but they roved around, as if the broth created motes of light that only he could see.

After a moment, he nodded, dipped his spoon in again and held it out for you to taste.

“Try it. It’s really good.”

You took the spoon from him, but he held his hand out still to catch any stray liquid that might spill. You blew on it lightly to cool it and then took a taste. When you were done, you handed the spoon back over.

He didn’t even ask you what you thought of it. He just looked at you, and the longer you went without saying anything, the broader his smile became.

“Jjamppong is common, but that’s some uncommonly good jjamppong,” you conceded.

Kyungsoo let one low laugh out before you hurried to continue.

“Let’s at least order some sannakji, though. To make up for all the normal.”

After that, the two of you began eating in earnest, taking liberally from each other’s dishes. You hadn’t even realized how hungry you were until you started eating and now it was as if your stomach was a bottomless pit. And so there was little in the way of conversation between the two of you as you ate, only a few exchanged comments.

At one point, though, you caught his amused, slightly exasperated look.

“What?”

“You’re my manager, right?”

You nodded, unsure where he was going with that.

“And you only have my best interests in mind, right?”

“Of course!”

“Along with EXO’s?”

“Yes! Why do you ask?”

“Then why do you keep singing ‘I wanna dan-dan-dan-dan-dance, fantastic baby’ over and over again?”

It was as if your brain gasped. You hadn’t realized that you were even thinking about the song, but now that he brought it up, it was as if someone had turned the volume on high in your head. It was all you could think about. You wracked your brain for an EXO song, any song, but the only thing that came to mind was “boomshakalaka” on repeat.

“Kyungsoo.” You reached across the table and laid a hand on his. You were in anguish. How could you have been unconsciously promoting any group besides EXO? “I can’t get it to stop. Make it stop!”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Sing.”

He stared at you blankly for a moment, pulling his hand away from yours. You didn’t think he was going to do it when he closed his eyes and started singing “Sing For You.”

The voice in your head faded, as did all of the noise from the restaurant. The timbre of his voice rang so pleasantly in your head, smoothing its way across the jump from neuron to neuron. But it wasn’t just the voice with Kyungsoo. It was his attention and immersion in the act. He wasn’t just an idol. He was a singer, an actor, a butterfly with an untold number of colors. He became fully whatever he wanted to be.

As the song came to a close, the sound started back slowly, then crescendoed to crash upon the two of you. You peeked behind your seat to see that almost all of the restaurant’s patrons were watching and clapping, and a great deal of them had their phones open and were recording or taking pictures.

You turned back around. Kyungsoo had pulled the hat down a little lower on his head and he leaned over the table to speak to you.

“How did I do? Was I alright?” he asked in a low voice.

“More than alright. You were extraordinary.” You laughed and clapped for him and he rang the waiter over to order you some sannakji and apologize for the ruckus.

And you. You hummed “Sing For You” for the rest of the night.

[ ❂ Read more Manager!verse here ]

A/N: A belated birthday piece. I made myself get Fantastic Baby stuck in my head by writing this.

#kyungsoo scenario #kyungsoo fanfic #exo scenarios #exo fanfiction #kyungsoo fanfiction #exo fluff #kyungsoo fluff #do kyungsoo #managerverse #do scenario #do fanfic

103 notes · View notes

liesandlibations · 4 years

Text

Fear and Loathing in Los Santos

*tape recorder clicks on*

"It was never easy for me. I was born a poor black child..."

Laughter, cough, cough, spit. Cursing.

No, no, goddammit. That is the intro to Steve Martin's "The Jerk" you asshole, what the fuck are you doing man? Don't come at these people with this kind of weirdness right out of the gate, Jesus Christ. Fuck. Start over.

*tape recorder clicks off*

*tape recorder clicks on, high-pitch rewind squeal*

"Okay, okay, I've got it now, okay. Second take."

Deep breath.

"Tonight on assholes interviewing themselves in the mirror, some fat douchebag failed writer turned clichéd alcoholic talks about himself for hours."

Laughter.

"Fuck. Okay, okay, everything is fine. It's fine. Just get into it already."

So, hey, about me. Uh. I'm a Leo, an INTJ, a Fire Rooster, I've got an IQ that is just shy of about one-sixty depending on how fucked up I am when I take the test, and my favorite color is, believe it or not, Seafoam Green. Not that any of that matters, of course. Is it cool if I have another drink? Thanks. Yes, I realize that was a frightening amount of alcohol but you want to talk about my past, right? That's what it takes then, and here it is.

I was born to an unwed drug-addicted teenage mother in the bad part of the South in about 1980. Before she gave me up, though, she scribbled my name on the birth certificate.

"Memphis."

No idea what she meant by that. Was I conceived there, was she from there? Dunno, to this day the answer eludes me but whatever, the name stuck. I was put up for adoption immediately and really I can't blame her, shit, who could? Stuffed into the state orphanage system as an infant and shuffled around from place to place for a while. Never really stuck anywhere for long, as I was riddled with physical illness and undiagnosed mental problems and generally considered too difficult. One family, according to the records which I unearthed years later, reported me as "possibly demon-possessed" at the tender age of three. Life in the Southern Baptist South, right? Whatever. I bounced from foster home to foster home until I finally just ran from the whole system at about the age of fourteen. Spent some time on the streets and a lot of time on other people's couches. I was too smart for my own good by then, angry at everything, hated the world, and in the very beginnings of a life of mental and emotional issues.

That was when I met the Professor.

I'd made it to Memphis, Tennessee. City of my namesake. The home of Elvis, the Blues, the birthplace of Rock and Roll, and the final stop for Dr. Martin Luther King. A place almost as fucked up as I was at the time. I was broke and homeless when I stumbled into a coffee shop somewhere in the art district, hungry and hoping for a handout.

I saw him for the first time, sitting in the back at a table with a chess board full of pieces laid upon it, wisps of grey hair catching sunlight through the dirty windows, staring at me over thick-rimmed black glasses. He introduced himself, "My name's Robert, but everyone just calls me the Professor," he said. Bought me a sandwich and a cup of java. He had a kind voice and an easy demeanor, was keen to know where I was from and where I was going. I, of course, young and impressionable, consumed both the sandwich and the attention with equal gusto. We talked through the day and into the night, and when he found out I was homeless he offered me a place to crash for a while. We walked down the worn sidewalks of the Midtown neighborhood past homes gently lit from within, on a warm evening, and it felt like things were going to be okay.

When we got back to his house, I was introduced for the first time to methamphetamine and sodomy, both with a startling swiftness.

I stayed with him for three years.

I hated it but what else could I do? No hope, no friends, no prospects. The meth almost made it worth it, but not really. It's an old story but at least I had a place to sleep and regular food, and I think he did care about me in his own fucked up way. His house was full of books, floor to ceiling, and I devoured every word I could get my hands on. All the greats, man: Keats, Hemingway, Bukowski, Thoreau, Kerouac, and finally the king, Hunter S. Thompson. I even started writing a bit, here and there, which the Professor was super critical of, naturally. But I found an outlet in some of the anarchist 'zines from the coffee shop and for the first time I got to experience that totally orgasmic feel that a writer has when he sees his words in black and white print. Seemed some other folks liked those words too, so I struck up a friendship with the local punks and anarchs, which he did not approve of either. Yeah.

Eventually this led to me taking a bunch of his shit and moving out of his place in the middle of the night, into a communal house owned by a punk band who liked my writings. He showed up pounding on the door and demanding to see me, saying he'd ruin me, turn me in to the cops, out me as some kind of whore, the whole nine yards worth of emotional manipulation, sure. But I'd begun to emulate my heroes of the Word by then, so I opened the door and pressed both barrels of a sawed-off twelve-gauge shotgun to his head and told him that if he ever tried to talk to me again I would turn his skull into a fucking canoe.

When I clicked the hammer back, he got the point, and that was the end of that chapter, yes."

Shit. Okay. Need another drink after that. Yes. That's better, it burns going down, right? Where were we?

"So anyway, I started writing in earnest. Throwing words at paper as if my life depended on it, and maybe it did. I had a pretty serious meth problem by that time and the Words helped to keep the wolf from the door. Luckily the anarchists I'd fallen in with were all straight edge, which I have to admit was annoying as fuck but honestly had it not been for them I might not have made it. They were good kids, at the end of the day, and I am forever grateful for their support. This ragtag group of weirdoes with Mohawks and piercings was probably the best family I'd ever had. Good times in the commune, too, writing and reading, crazy concerts every weekend, just thrashing and bashing and letting the anger out. I even had a girlfriend, for a time, and she, being much better organized than myself, managed to get me to a GED and then enrolled at a local college in some writing courses, specifically Journalism. The girlfriend didn't last, of course, I was still pretty much a mess as a human, but the journalism thing stuck with me and I actually accidentally graduated with honors and a metric fuckton of student loan debt. I was writing more and better than ever before and it was glorious, but I needed credit within the industry, and this led to the next, unfortunately darker chapter.

Jesus Cinnamon-Titties Christ, I need another drink.

*tape recorder clicks off*

*tape recorder clicks on*

"HEY THERE BOYS AND GIRLS IT'S TIME FOR WHIPPY THE SQUIRREL!"

Goddammit. I still hate that voice. It's sort of what you would get if you let the Chipmunks smoke crack and then stuffed them in a blender.

Sometimes we do things we regret when we are young, I guess. I was in my early twenties when I snagged my first legal job, a bullshit internship at a local TV Station. Jesus. I showed up all bright-eyed for my four in the AM shift and was handed a threadbare squirrel costume, complete with giant horrifying cartoon head. It reeked of booze and ass. "Morning kids show mascot," they said, "Whippy the Squirrel, beloved icon of local marketable children everywhere," they said, "Learn how to do the voice or you're fired." they said, and that last bit was the important bit. So I spent three hours in a cramped video closet watching reruns of the previous holder of the title, trying to get it right.

Twenty years that poor bastard was the furred whipping boy for this station, and over the time lapse of the video tapes you could see his spirit wither away, slowly crushed by the awful mundanity of his chosen occupation. I found out later he'd showed up to work one morning, taken a little break to go to the dressing room, put the barrel of a .357 revolver in his mouth, and fucking BLAMMO. Cut to "Technical Difficulties" slate, call the cleaning crew, so it goes.

But I really needed the job and the industry credit, so I lit a joint, got really fucking high, nailed the voice, and became the ultimate personification of local televised capitalism and commercial broadcasting. It wasn't really hard. Put on the giant stinking head, trot out in front of a bunch of bored children, try to get them excited about the next magician, clown, or Hannah-Barbara cartoon rerun. It didn't take long for me to fall into the bad habits again, smoking out and drinking heavily every shift just to get through it.

The morning anchor's name was Jane Childes. A forty-something former beauty queen she was, with an older doctor husband, a very expensive set of fake breasts, and a predilection for cocaine. Before the news she would spend thirty minutes on her hair alone and then spend commercials doing bumps off the news desk. During the break between Sunrise News and Morning News, she'd do, well...

Me.

You ever hoover coke off a magnificent pair of middle-aged titties and have hot, sweaty, furry, squirrel sex in a video closet? And then have to go in front of thirty children and their parents and introduce a bunch of goddamned bullshit while reeking of pussy and weed? Of course not, and it went downhill really quickly.

This whole horrible debacle led to a breakdown on television and a general brawl that got me fired. You wouldn't think eight-year-olds could throw down like that, but those little bastards will swarm you. They will climb right up your furry legs and punch you in the balls with all the skill and anger a disgruntled Taekwondo yellow-belt can muster.

I was, of course, quickly and obviously fired. Barely avoided charges on that one, but luckily Mr. and Mrs. Childes were eager to stay away from any sort of public scandal and paid to have the whole thing hushed up. I suppose you could say that was my first introduction to real Old Southern Politics, where everything was about who you knew and how many people were related to you and little else in the way of reason. So it went.

I got a letter in the mail from the Liberty City Courier the very next day, the third most popular newspaper in a crime-ridden city the majority of people hadn't heard of outside of the late night news. Seems they loved my work and wanted to make me an offer. So I sold all of my shit and bought a bus ticket.

"Time for the big time," I thought.

Goddamn, I was naive.

Let's have another drink, shall we? I'm not drunk, you're drunk, shut up. I'm telling this story, you goddamned reflection. Why don't you lose some weight, too? Fat bitch, I hate you. No, no, I didn't mean that. Finish the story and we can both go to bed.

Okay, bottoms up and here we go.

Oh fuck, oh fuck I have the hiccups, shit. OMG I HATE FUCKING HICCUPS. Okay, okay, wait... I'm good. Whew.

Liberty City in the early 'ought's, right?

Fuck.

I would call it a den of sin and iniquity but that wouldn't do it justice. I rolled into the Greyhound station ragged and jittery, too many days off the drugs and hard up for the next thing to prove myself. I grabbed my bag, walked outside, and saw a car fly through the air. It flipped upside down, murdered two pedestrians, hit a traffic light, righted itself, and sailed off into the night with about a hundred cop cars, lights a-flashing, trailing behind. Nobody called an ambulance for the poor smashed unfortunates, either, they just laid there as my taxi pulled up to take me to the low-rent apartments that the paper was paying for.

I was, at the time, unprepared for that kind of mental clusterfuck and had a bit of a breakdown in the car. My cabbie, who I think was some kind of Russian from his accent, laughed.

"Welcome to Liberty City, my friend," he said, as he wove in and out of traffic at a terrifying pace. I got to the apartment, locked the locks with a trembling hand, and called in to the paper. They wanted me to report at six in the AM. Fortunately I'd had my new cabbie friend stop off at a local liquor store and the fifth of Jack Daniels I'd procured got me through that night.

It wasn't easy, but nothing was easy.

Except maybe dying, in Liberty City.

I started at the Courier the next day. Covering the crime beat and believe me I made waves right out the door, just by having the audacity to actually talk to the criminals and ask them for their viewpoint. Up until me, I guess the Liberty City Courier was most pro-police-law-and-order and then here I come with my anarchist bullshit, the fucking audacious idea that we examine the society that had led to criminals, consider them as people instead of the usual big bad villains. Having the sheer gall to suggest that the cops might be the bad guys too. The old dogs in the bullpen hated me and I don't blame them. Some dumbass kid from the South with a weird haircut and the wrong clothes rolling up in their turf questioning the very fabric of the very normal kind of journalism they practiced? Very much an asshole, no doubt.

But when I broke that story about corruption in the LCPD, and it went national, no one could deny me.

The public, oh the ignorant and so easily distracted public, they ate it up. Bear in mind this was the late nineties, right? Anti-heroes were in full effect and my kind of crude yet poetic narrative was having its day. Sure. I got invited to the best parties by criminals and celebrities, vast displays of decadence on yachts and in underground clubs everywhere. I was a hot ticket, for a minute. I even managed to get a new girlfriend, yeah, a lovely, uh, a perfect, a...

A goddamned angel, and no mistake.

Shut up, shut up. It's okay. Moving on.

Anyhow. I got in pretty good with some local heavies. Not as difficult as you would think, nobody loves to talk about themselves more than criminals. What's the point of being smarter and harder than anyone if you can't somehow tell everyone that you are? All I had to do was listen and write the words I heard, at the end of the day. Sure, a little embellishment, maybe a punch-up here and there. Change the names to protect the innocent (not that anyone was, of course), and then BLAM you have a newspaper article, then a column, and then a book, and then it all kind of went wrong in the worst way.

Shit. Okay, wait. I just need another drink. It's okay, just, ahem, it's okay.

*tape recorder clicks off*

*tape recorder clicks on*

Heavy sigh.

Okay, let's get into it.

I published my collected articles with a major publishing house and we titled it, "Fear and Loathing in Liberty City."

It went to the top three on the NYT Top Ten Publishing list immediately and stood there proudly for two weeks.

Nobody remembers that now, of course, and there is no reason they should. I wish it hadn't gone as far as it had.

See, it seems that some crime lords, arrogant and narcissistic fucks that they are, don't appreciate it when you publish a book in which they feature heavily (even if names are changed), and they are described in a less than favorable light and maybe with words like: "weak-ass Nancy-boys", "useless mentally-challenged fucknuts", or "punk-ass exploitative shit pimp beta fucks".

Well, sure, they get a bit pissed-off at you. Some of them. Well, okay, one in particular.

Sergio Antoine.

Eh.

So there was this mostly-unheard of gang of criminals on the Southside, right? Second-hand punks, mostly, pseudo-bikers. Garbage white-trash meth-heads, low-level drug dealers, pimps, and so forth. Called themselves the "Southside Desperadoes" and owned a three-story warehouse they'd converted into a sketchy strip club named "The Platinum Pony", which was basically a front for their meth and prostitution rackets. Their leader was an ugly bastard that fancied himself as some kind of made man with the local Mafia (none of which, mind you, knew who the fuck he was). Sergio Antoine. He wore expensive clothes and watches, drove Italian sports cars, and wore ridiculous hair pieces.

I swear to God, every time I saw him he had a new look. Short hair, long hair, dreadlocks, shaggy bush, high and tight, loosey-goosey, everything. Couldn't really make up his mind and he ran his gang about the same way. They were drug-lords one week, pimps the next, an MC biker club the week after. Pure chaos. But I managed to ingratiate myself just enough to get access to the inner circle and after that it was a real awakening as to the ways and means of the Liberty City underground crime scene. That formed the basis of "Fear and Loathing" and most of my articles thereafter. I told the club what I was doing, of course, transparency in journalism and all that, but when the book hit, well, they took exception.

Especially Sergio.

Look, I will acknowledge that I didn't exactly describe him in flattering terms, okay, but everything I said was a hundred percent accurate. That probably made it worse. Don't poke the ego-driven narcissistic bear, right? But look here; these people were not good people, they were psychopaths almost to a man, exploiters of everything around them, murderers when they found it convenient and just overall terrible, terrible shitlord human beings. Bad as it was, every single word I wrote about them was true. I just wish it hadn't...

Well, I mean I should have known it would...

I...

Fuck.

I need another drink. Standby.

*tape recorder clicks off*

*tape recorder clicks on*

Her name was Sarah.

Yeah. Before all this really hit its stride, I'd gotten just well enough known at the Courier that I'd been assigned an assistant. Some young, plucky, college intern, much like I'd been once upon a time. We hit it off, she was amazingly competent at all the things I was not and for my part I was a hopeless wreck of a human being. We bonded over drinks and a predilection for old punk bands and one thing led to another and then my book hit (which never would have happened without her help) and we got engaged and the local press made a big deal of it and we were in love and that should have been the part of the story where the fucking narrator says, "they lived happily ever after" and the end of it.

*extended silence*

Goddammit.

*cough*

Sorry, sorry. We were walking out of a trendy downtown restaurant when a car rolled up on us and gunfire erupted from the windows. I found out later that Sergio had ordered the hit because he felt I'd made him look weak in the book. I took one bullet in the shoulder and one in the knee. Sarah took three in the chest.

I held her, um, hmm. Sorry.

I held her while she died.

Um. I need a minute, okay?

*tape recorder clicks off*

...

*tape recorder clicks on*

So, yeah. Okay.

When I got out of the hospital I went on a bit of a bender.

I mean, like, some epic Greek-hero level shit. Total blackout. I dropped a ton of money on coke, meth, booze, pills, everything. Whatever I could shove into my stupid brain to make it forget the pain, right? Still don't remember anything, and that's probably for the best because I woke up in a cornfield in Iowa three weeks later, wearing a powder-blue dress and one sock. Drug my hungover ass out of the field and down the road until I could hitch-hike into the nearest town, get some breakfast and check the feeds. Iowa locals don't even blink about this shit, too many years in the middle of America and everybody's cousin has a meth problem. Your weirdness doesn't even make a dent.

But it seemed the Platinum Pony had mysteriously burned to the ground in the time I'd been out. Multiple dead, all members of the gang. Sergio himself had been found in the back, in a safe room, almost untouched except for a hole in his head the size of a train tunnel. What survivors there were reported an attack by a demon, a figure dressed in a squirrel costume with a high-pitched voice that terrified them as it hunted them one by one, relentlessly murdering everything it encountered with a sawn-off shotgun.

I've no memory of any of that time, of course.

But I did wonder.

So I got my shit together, such as it was, and sold it off to pay for my ticket home. Went back to the Tennessee hills and got me a little cabin up on the top of an Appalachian mountain. Spent my time collecting royalty checks from book sales, drinking moonshine, smoking meth, and hitting on local moonshiner's nubile daughters who might have read one of my books on the down low. I had my reasons, of course, I'd promised my publisher two more books and they'd already tried lawyers to no avail. I feared they would try hitmen next, ditto for the gang scene in Liberty City, who have large egos and long memories.

So I went to ground, grubbing it out on the top of a mountain. No contact with the outside world, just me and the booze and the meth and the occasional young lady with a passion for literature.

It was not the best life, but it was good enough for me at the time, yes.

Fast forward to now, though.

Two things happened, really, that got me off that mountain. Firstly, I couldn't write. It's fucked up, but too much clean air, too much sunshine, trees, grass, squirrels and whatever the fuck, it broke me. It was too easy goddammit. My brain could not deal, and thus no words. I was hamstrung by bliss, I think. Secondly, the money ran out. Surprisingly enough, moonshiners and meth heads don't give credit. So I drug my dumb blissful ass off the mountain and down to the city, made some phone calls to some contacts in the newspaper world, checked the feeds, and found out that Los Santos was the newest hottest criminal hotspot in the world. I felt it too, that vibe, when I stepped off the bus. That feeling that you could die at any time, strike sparks anywhere, and hammer the fiery words of the gods onto paper.

Los Santos smells like gunpowder, diesel fumes, and blood.

And somewhere in my soul, the old Muse stirs.

I'm here to write words. I'm older now, the reflexes aren't what they used to be, but I think I still have some stories left in me. This is the last ride for this old dog journalist, and I aim to make it count, to leave a legacy, whatever it may be, written in the stars of the universe and hopefully at least two books worth of shit because the publishing house is still after my ass for that contract. It's okay though, I know this music and I remember the steps to the dance. The next chapter of chapters starts here, and words are coming easy in Los Santos.

But if I've learned anything, it's that nothing is ever easy.

*tape recorder clicks off*

0 notes

sonipanda · 6 years

Text

Now I am so confused by this pair, as I have no idea what type they are, where they’re from, who they’re made by and what’s even inside! So it was hard to pair an outfit to begin with until I got inside and then saw what I was working with.

Another little gift from my follower; they manage to get hold of some amazing hosiery!

The Spec

Colour: Black

Size: One Size

Materials: 80% nylon, 20% elastane

Price & Website: Unknown

My Outfit

Let’s go back to basics with a grey bodcon paired with these statement tights and a pair of black heels (which I ended up leaving in my car!)

I kept jewellery and everything else to a minimum today as it was fairly warm!

The Review

The Packaging: as you can see below, the packaging is very basic; to the point where you don’t actually know what hosiery is inside or what it looks like. I was so intrigued to begin with as I didn’t know what I would be working with until I get inside and get my arm in.

The front and back don’t really state anything about the hosiery to be honest, so this is a pair you get in and get straight on.

As you can see I rolled this up my arm so I can see what type of design was printed on them!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Getting Them On: now this is where I had some tricky bits. At first I thought they were striped all round, so up I go trying to line up, only to find that there is a block line that sits at the side of your legs! So I had to roll them back down and start again making sure that the line-up sat where it was supposed to.

Over anklets, these are fine and don’t get caught as easily as you think they might. I used hosiery gloves to begin with, and then gave up as they weren’t scrunching right on the gloves (these are quite a thick and heavy pair!)

On The Legs: so on the legs, these are a right statement pair! As they are a dark thick denier, they really do know how to stand out of the crowd!

It’s a denier which would be quite hard to snag to be honest; when they’re on they stay put all day and don’t budge whatsoever. They also feel quite tough and seems like they can withstand a fair bit. I didn’t end up with any snags or runs throughout the day which I am so pleased about!

The fit of them are absolutely amazing; they hug the legs so well and stay put all day long. You don’t have to worry about the design moving around on the legs or anything which I really liked (with bodycons, you can get hosiery that clings to it and moves with the dress or skirt – this is a nightmare!)

Now the feel of them are quite rough they aren’t as smooth as I thought they would be which is a shame to be honest, but not that I am complaining because they have a lot of pros than cons!

The design is something which I didn’t expect. I haven’t come across something like this before. I have done mock suspender and stocking type, but this has 3 different designs all in one pair which I think is super funky. It can work so well with smaller dresses and skirts to create such a fashionable look!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The Toes & Ankle: around the toes, there is plenty of wiggle room. I thought they would be kinda tight as the denier is quite high, but I was pleasantly surprised. They don’t really have any reinforcements as far as I can see; it’s just toe seams and then straight into the design so you will need to be careful of long / sharp nails to make sure you don’t create any horrible holes!

Oh before I forget to mention, they have that solid line working right down to the toes as well; it has to start somewhere right?

So the ankles I didn’t have an issue with either; they sat firm and flush all day long with no wrinkles in sight!

One thing I did notice is that my anklet somehow made an appearance THROUGH THE TIGHTS!!! Luckily they weren’t caught in them!

The Waistband & Gusset: now let me show you the top design of these tights; I love the netting of them and wish it was like this all the way down the legs! So the band is a slim-line one, which then works into the net design. It stays up well all day and I didn’t have an issues with it in regards to the rolling over itself.

You can get this problem with some netted tights where they just roll so you gotta unwind it all to sit them straight. These weren’t like that, which I am super happy about as it can be a struggle (especially with long fingernails!)

My Thoughts?

Overall I think these are a real funky pair, and I am so glad I got to review them. I just wish I knew the name of it so I can share it with you all who wish to purchase them!

The design is great, the quality amazed me and I think they are super cool!

Unbranded Striped Tights Now I am so confused by this pair, as I have no idea what type they are, where they're from, who they're made by and what's even inside!

4 notes · View notes