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dean-a-mean-tae · 6 months

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We Can't Make It On Our Own | Stray Kids Extra Member AU

After a rough day, a moment with the youngest of Stray Kids helps Nicholas come to an understanding. | Little bit of Jeongin x Nicholas

(@cafekitsune made the dividers) | Nicholas Ross Master List

What's the saying? Walking on eggshells? Or thin ice? You're nervous, you're scared, and you have to be cautious of your actions. One wrong move, and you plummet into ice-cold water.

Growing up on thin ice makes children cautious and forces them to mask themselves, to mold themselves to what their parents want. Other adults believe they've raised well-behaved kids. When the children are out in the world, they don't know what to do with so much freedom.

There's no one looming over them, no threat of being hit or yelled at for spoilt milk. They can't find their place, emotionally or mentally.

Yesterday, Nicholas had another episode that left him in much worse shape than usual.

The day started fine. He got out of bed with only a slight twinge in his knees. He went through his routine, ate a bacon sandwich, and went to practice.

It was right after they finished that the first pain hit in the back of his right knee. He grabbed the shoulder of the nearest member, who happened to be Seungmin, and sighed.

"You okay?" The younger grabbed his arm, guiding Nicholas to a nearby couch so he could sit next to Minho.

"I'll be okay."

And he would be, just not for a while. The pain had gotten worse. It hurt his right leg and back. Nicholas looked at Minho out of the corner of his eye and watched as Minho nodded before leaving to get Chan.

After a moment, Nicholas was in his room, surrounded by his members. Jeongin and Seungmin lay on either side of Nick while Hyunjin lay behind him against the headboard. Chan was looking for his heating plushie in his closet.

Minho cooked something light for Nick's stomach while Felix made him tea. Changbin and Jisung were in the laundry room drying Nick's blankets.

The next day, the others wouldn't let Nicholas up. He was on bed rest until they decided he was fit to move. They were kind enough to bring him his laptop and Nintendo Switch.

This morning, they let Minho and Jeongin stay with him. They ate breakfast with him before Minho went to wash the dishes and clean the little mess from their last living room sleepover.

Jeongin was told to stay with Nicholas.

"Make sure Nick doesn't try to get up," Minho said, staring pointedly at the maknae before walking out of the room.

"I hate when you guys talk like I'm not here."

Jeongin lay on Nick's shoulder, the older's arm wrapped around him, watching a movie. He looked up at Nick with a sigh.

"I don't think they mean to do it. I know I don't," Jeongin assured, leaning on his side propped over Nick.

"What if I went back to my grandparents?" Nick whispered, staring at the ceiling. "Like, if I left Stray Kids and went to America?"

"We'd try to talk you out of it," Jeongin said, voice just as quiet as the other. He leaned over, his hand propping him over Nicholas so he wouldn't crush him.

"Chan hyung chose you for a reason. You're talented, and we love you." Jeongin tilted his head in thought, his vision blurry as he started to ramble.

"We all bring something to the table. Chan looks out for us, Minho makes sure we're fed and takes care of us, Changbin keeps us energized, Hyunjin helps us use our voices, Felix shows us it's okay to be happy, and Seungmin balances him out by telling us it's okay to be sad. While I keep everyone on their toes."

"What do I bring?" Nick asked.

Jeongin stared down at him, eyes bouncing around Nick's face in thought. For a moment, there was silence. The movie had paused when the 'Still watching?' queue popped up. Minho had shifted further in the dorm, so they only heard their breathing.

"Peace." The younger whispered.

For some reason, Nick understood. Maybe it was the emotion in Jeongin's eyes, or perhaps it was the memories of different members coming to him for comfort. Maybe it was the fact that they took care of him with a smile, even when his conditions set them back. But he understood, and that's what mattered.

Nicholas brought the group peace and a space for them to feel safe.

Nicholas Ross Master List

©️DEANAMEANTAE2023

Tags list: …

#deantae nicholas ross #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member #skz x reader #stray kids x male reader #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x male reader #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #skz x 9th member #stray kids fluff #stray kids with the 9th member #stray kids extra member #yang jeongin #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin x male reader #jeongin

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inmyfxith · 1 year

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The Orange Ropes

A/N: Young!Sully!reader (female reader)

Summary: As a member of the Sully family, you embark on a heroic quest to save your sister, Kiri. Even as you face the fear of not being able to break away from the colonel's grip, you find comfort in the knowledge that your father and mother will come to your rescue, as they always do.

Warnings: None

Words: 613

-> Requested

With Tuk leading the way, Kiri's rescue was a family affair. And so, as the Sullys stick together, you, a delicate child, could not be left behind on this heroic quest. Your agile limbs flailed in the crystal waters as Tsireya, unable to abandon you, wrapped her arm around your waist to hasten your pace. Fate had brought you together, as you had lost Aonung and Rotxo and stumbled upon the boat where Tsireya had spotted and almost rescued you. The cold metal of the boat chilled your feet, cooled by the water that rushed in after Payakan's attacks.

Your eyes were wide with wonder, taking in all the unfamiliar human surroundings. But before you could fully take it all in, a strong hand grasped your arm and pulled you towards a metal railing. The man's embrace was brutal and unfamiliar, causing panic to grip you and a scream to escape your lips. Helpless against him, your small hands were tied to the bar, your only defense a pitiful hissing sound, more like agony than anger. The man sneered, contempt etched on his face as he tightened his grip on your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

The man's features twisted with revulsion, "As savage as her mother," and in an instant, he vanished behind the ship's metal structures. Desperately, you pulled at your restraints, the fear of being unable to move freely causing tears to stream down your cheeks and hysteria to grip you. Kiri was by your side, alive but also bound, and Tuk, though worried for her own condition, urged you to calm.

"Dad is on his way, he will come to save us," but the reassurance was hollow, as it was not Jake who usually came to your rescue in perilous situations.

"Neteyam! Neteyam!" you cried out, futilely hoping he would appear and take you home. The sun descended, the ship growing darker, and still, no salvation came as bullets rained down upon the deck. As you sobbed and flailed your arms, fatigue began to overtake you.

As you screamed, your anguish reaching a crescendo, you fought against your bonds with wild determination, the orange ropes giving way to the sharp edge of a knife you had miraculously procured. But freedom was fleeting as your captor seized you by your queue, holding you at bay and rendering your struggles, bites, and kicks ineffective. Quaritch dragged you away from your sisters, who rose up against him, begging for your release, Kiri even offering to take your place, yet he paid them no heed. He clamped his large hand over your mouth, muffling your cries as Jake stormed onto the boat.

With a knife held menacingly against your throat, Jake became aware of your presence when one of your screams reached him. Quaritch held you firmly, your back pressed against his leg, his knee immobilizing you, pulling on your queue, and you were unable to free yourself. Concern etched on your father's face as he held Kiri and Tuk at bay, he reached out to you as if to reassure you that everything would be alright, even though doubt lingered in his voice.

As Jake approached the Colonel with caution, his hands raised in a sign of peaceful intent, Quaritch seemed deaf to his words. The knife's edge against your cheek, tears still clinging to it, your mind dissipated as if you were no longer there.

"What I couldn't do to your wife, perhaps I can do to her mirror image?" Quaritch sneered at Jake. But before he could act on his words, your mother materialized, her blade held against Spider's throat.

Tag -> @eywas-heir

#avatar #avatar the way of water #awow #avatar imagine #avatar imagines #awow imagine #awow imagines #jake sully #kiri #tuk #tuktirey #quaritch #miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #neytiri #spider #jake sully x daughter!reader

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theclairvoyage · 2 months

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Centrifugation: Chapter 1

plasmadonor!Joel x f!reader

You’re the star phlebotomist at the local plasma center, and the job has been increasingly mundane as of late… until a new and handsome Texan donor comes to the center and changes that, and the rest your life.

Series Masterlist

Series warnings:

AU, M/F, Age gap (20 years)-reader’s YOB is 1995 (purely coincidental lolol), eventual SMUT, blood, needles, & plasma talk (nothing too graphic, I promise!), a bit of blasphemy, criticism of religion, mentions of death, divorce, angst, fluffity fluff fluff, alcohol consumption, violence. Individual chapters will have specific warnings.

FYI – this work contains criticisms of religion and reader is atheist/agnostic. Feel free to scroll if this offends you. If you decide to read, remember that even if you are religious, this is not an attack on you, but rather ideology. And remember the tenets of religious freedom. Everyone has the right to believe – and NOT to believe – in the things you do.

Plasma Center UrbanDict:

Stick = venipuncture

PR = permanent rejection, aka permanent deferral

Reception = where donors have vitals taken to determine if they are suitable to donate

Donor Floor = where the magic happens, baby! Where donation occurs, aka sticks with big 17G needles

Processing = where units of plasma are sampled and frozen

This is my first ever fic! Excited to share all of it with you. I'm new to posting this kind of stuff on Tumblr, so please forgive rookie formatting and whatnot. Hope you enjoy! As of 03/10/24, I have 6 chapters written - I'm juggling my writing with finishing my MPH degree, so my schedule might be a little spotty until mid-May.

Chapter 1

Chapter warnings: blood, needles, & plasma talk, light violence.

WC: 3.7k

Friday, October 15th | 0755

You turn into the parking lot at the plasma center, a little later than your usual 10 minutes early. Your shift is at 8, so you don’t have much time to walk to the center, clock in, grab your coat and face shield and get to work. Thankfully, the parking lot is just across the street. As soon as you step out of your car, downtown Omaha greets you with the familiar scents of cigarette smoke and fall air, along with the sounds of the city buses and commuters chugging along.

It’s a nice morning. Living in Nebraska means you get to experience the peaks and valleys of all four seasons, and during fall, this means the leaves of what few trees are in the downtown area are painted lovely hues of orange, yellow, and even red – if you’re lucky enough to find a scarlet or pin oak tree.

The plasma center parking lot is shared with employees and donors, and it’s packed this morning. Not a great sign. You walk up to the back employee entrance and punch in the code. The keypad beeps and lights up green and you pull open the ages-old, heavy-as-hell door and make your way to the break room.

The donor waiting area is just outside the break room door, and you can tell by how full it is that it’s going to be a long day, confirming your earlier suspicions in the parking lot. Somebody definitely called in, you think. Great. Punching in the same code as before, you enter the break room, throw your stuff in your locker, and clock in.

As soon as you’re on the Donor Floor, donned with your white lab coat, blue nitrile gloves, and face shield, one of your best phlebotomists and good friend Keri approaches, looking flustered as hell.

“Jesus, thank fuck you’re here,” she sighs, taking a deep breath and raising her eyebrows at you. She smooths back her frizzy hair and sets down her face shield on the counter next to you.

“Are we short today, or did corporate send out some bonus texts to half of Omaha?” you say, checking the Donor Queue on the computer. 15 people waiting, average wait time of 43 minutes. Fucking clean up time, I guess.

“Two call-outs, but they’re newbies, so it wouldn’t have mattered, really,” she says. “Definite yes on the bonus texts. Regulars are all pissed off because they didn’t get any.” You roll your eyes and sigh. To get more donors in, the company you work for has been sending bonus texts to donors that haven’t been in in a while, which really ticks off the regular, twice-a-week donors. It’s all about meeting that liters budget.

“Where do you need me? Breaks need to be sent?” you ask her. You’re the lead phlebotomist, but you always check in with whoever opened before you make any decisions. Keri nods. “Send Blake to break, he’s got an open section now and we’ve got to get these wait times down.” You grab your mobile phlebotomy device and head that way.

Each phlebotomist can have a maximum of 6 donors in their section. You see Blake cleaning up the machine from his last disconnect, leaving you an empty section. “You can head to break, I’ll take over here,” you say, helping him wipe down the now-empty donor bed.

“Thanks… really happy that you’re here. It’s been a shit show today,” he says, walking away from the section toward the break room. You groan and head up to the front near the waiting area, grab a chart, and start climbing the mountain.

Thursday, October 15th | 1230

The morning turned out to be an absolute disaster. You quickly filled up your section once you sent Blake to break, apologizing to every donor you sat for the wait times. Most were understanding. There were a few that gave you an eye roll or a shrug. A few left the center, not wanting to be late for work. The fall is generally a busy time at the center, with people seeking extra money for football tailgates and games, college students needing extra money for just about everything, and parents stocking up early on holiday savings.

Thankfully, Keri, you, and the rest of the morning Donor Floor crew knocked the Queue down to 3 donors and wait times down to 10 minutes. Once the last morning break was done, they came over and sent you to your lunch. Delighted, you took off your sweaty coat and hung it up, washed your hands at the sink by the coat rack, and headed to the break room.

Before you’re able to punch in the door code, a deep, velvety voice stops you.

“Uh, miss? Can you point me in the right direction?”

You turn and look in the direction of the voice and see a taller man with dark, silvery-streaked curly hair, tanned skin and pensive brown eyes staring at you. He’s donning a red flannel that squeezes his broad shoulders and ropy arm muscles, and dark wash Levi’s that have the outline of his wallet imprinted in the front right pocket. He’s definitely a blue-collar guy, not unlike a lot of the current donors. Must be a new donor, you think. Damn, he looks good. You feel a little zap in your chest, not unlike the fingerstick donors get during screening.

“Hi! Are you a new donor?” You ask, turning on your customer service voice in hopes of calming your nerves. You step back from the door and walk toward him. He’s got a small white paper slip in hand, which tells you he needs his veins checked, so he must be new.

“Yes ma’am, need someone ‘ta look at my veins. Been here before, but it’s been a long time,” he says, watching you approach him and giving you the once-over. Twice-over. Your pulse quickens. His voice is like icing, dripping with a sweet Southern accent and mushing your insides. You smile and take the paper from him, hoping that you aren’t blushing.

“Roll up your sleeves for me and let’s take a look,” you say, watching him roll up the sleeves of his red flannel. He’s got thick, veiny forearms that are tanned and covered with freckles. He wears a watch on his left wrist that you assume hasn’t been removed in years, judging by the pure white skin peeking underneath. His hands are big and scarred. Definitely works with his hands, you think. He has a small, circle-shaped scar on his right arm near the venipuncture site, so he was telling the truth about donating plasma before. You grab a tourniquet hanging on the cabinet near the chart area, wrap it on his upper arm, and feel. His veins are huge and muscular, and you realize you didn’t need the tourniquet in the first place. Rookie mistake.

“Guess I really don’t need this,” you say, removing the tourniquet and feeling his ropy veins with your index finger. His skin is warm under your clammy finger. He chuckles. “Heard that one before,” he says. You laugh and make eye contact with him, noticing the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his salt and pepper beard. His gaze is amiable and filled with something else you can’t quite pinpoint, and your stomach twists. You look away before you can decipher it.

“I don’t think you’ll have any issues with the stick,” you say, and he laughs. “Are you hydrated? Had a good meal in the last hour or two?” You ask, writing your name on the vein check slip and circling “Pass.” You see the name Joel Miller written at the top.

“Yes ma’am, I do a lot of workin’ outside and with my hands, so I know better,” he says, confirming your earlier assumption. His voice is sending a wave of tingles from your ears to your neck, and you feel goosebumps start to erupt in their pathway.

“Good man, Joel,” you say, noticing him perk up at you saying his name, “Take this back to the front desk and we’ll get you processed as quickly as we can.” He nods, gives you a handsome-as-fuck lopsided smile, and walks back to the front. You head back to the break room and turn to glance at him once more to find that he's already looking at you. Fuck, you think, looking back at the door. Don’t need a hot donor making me feel nervous like this. He’s older than you, but he might be the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen. You can only imagine how homely you look, clad in your scrubs and sweaty from the morning hustle and bustle.

You see every part of humanity at your job: young and old, foreign and domestic, all races and ethnicities, handsome and near homeless. There have been a few men that have caught your eye, and a few that you’ve met up with outside of the center, but none like this one. As tedious and mundane as the job can be, it’s the people that make it exciting, especially attractive ones. Well, hopefully he passes screening so I can see him on the Donor Floor, you think, contemplating what you’re going to get for lunch in the short time that you have.

Thursday, October 15th | 1430

Your break went by too fast. You decided on some fast-food place just across the street from the center. It’s good and cheap, but you know the greasy food is going to put you in a late-afternoon lull. Oh well. After you got back, the lobby was still relatively empty, so you started working on doing the monthly machine cleanings in the meantime.

The plasmapheresis machines are complicated and like everything else in the plasma center, they come with lots of rules and regulations. You’re a seasoned pro, though, so the cleaning and documentation are a breeze. You’re heading over to clean the last of the machines in the third row of the Donor Floor when you see a familiar, handsome head of dark salt-and-pepper curls walk behind Keri to one of the donor beds in the first row. He smiles at you as he lies on the donor bed, and you feel your cheeks heat and curl up into a smile of their own. Get a fucking grip. You’re relieved that Keri is taking care of him, because you’re nervous just seeing him in your work area. You can only imagine how shaky your hands would be with a needle if you were the one sticking him.

While cleaning the machines in the third row, you periodically look over at Joel and Keri. Keri is great with the donors, and it’s evident when you see Joel laughing with her. Each time you look up, he’s either already looking at you or looks up right after you do. You try to play it off like you’re scanning over all the donors, making sure everything is going as it should, but the sweat sheen forming on your face and neck betray you.

You see the light on his machine turn green, indicating he’s been stuck and is running smoothly. You imagine what it would’ve been like to feel his veins again, feeling his warm, tan skin underneath your fingers… and underneath other things, like—

“Oh my god, that man is such a charmer… and asked about you at least three times,” Keri states, snapping you out of your horny daydream. Your eyes widen and you turn so he can’t see your face from where he’s seated.

“Shhh! Keep your voice down!” You hiss, making both of you giggle. “What was he saying?”

“Oh, nothing much, just asking what the cute girl that checked his veins was doing all the way over here,” she smirks. “He used to donate here over 25 years ago when the center first opened up. Can you believe he’s that old? He does NOT look like it.” Odd, you think. He didn’t sound like he was from here when you spoke to him earlier. Wait, did he say I was cute? Blushing at his remark about your appearance, you remember the scar on his arm and think he’s probably telling the truth. “Wow, he looks good. How old is he?” Keri pulls him up on her mobile phlebotomy handheld and you see he was born in 1975. Damn. 20 years older than you.

Before you and Keri can gush further about Joel, the front door slams shut, echoing throughout the center and catching everyone off-guard. You watch as one of the younger regular donors, Cedric, storms past Reception and the donor waiting area over to the Donor Floor front desk, near where you checked Joel’s veins earlier. He practically spits your name, his brows pinched in a rage.

“Cedric, is everything alright?” You ask, approaching the front desk slowly. The once-noisy Donor Floor is quiet, save for the quiet whirring and clicking of the machines. Donors not wearing headphones are anxiously watching the front desk. You give Cedric the once-over and notice that his arm wrap is soaked with blood, and some of it has gotten on his white shirt and shorts and the floor around him. First rule of donating: Never wear white to a plasma center, dude.

“Does it fucking look alright? My arm wasn’t wrapped right and now I have blood everywhere!” he fumes. The entire Donor Floor is watching, including Joel and poor Blake, who must’ve disconnected Cedric. Blake approaches tentatively, tail between his legs, but you put your hand up to him, saying I’ll take care of this. Blake gives you a thankful nod and tiptoes back to his section.

“Cedric, I’m sorry about that. Come over to the sink and I’ll rewrap it for you,” you say, putting a fresh pair of gloves on. “Keri, can you clean up the blood spots with bleach, please?” You ask. She nods and grabs a Clorox bottle near the front desk, putting her face shield on and quickly walking around Cedric to search for the path of blood droplets. Cedric raises his voice again.

“Not good enough. I need that kid fired for his incompetence!” he points aggressively at Blake, flinging some blood droplets on the arm of your coat and on the front desk.

“Everybody makes mistakes, Cedric. Blake is a great employee. We can fix this. Let’s get you cleaned up, and maybe we can compensate you a little extra on your next donation,” you offer. But Cedric isn’t having it. He rips off the arm wrap and gauze and throws them at you while screaming expletives. The bloodied wrap nearly hits your face shield. Oh, hell no. He’s a long-term donor, so he’s probably clean, but it’s too close for comfort.

“Blake, call Trina and call the cops. Get this guy out of here. Cedric, don’t ever come back to this place,” you calmly instruct, walking backwards to find a biohazard container a safe distance from Cedric, never turning away from him. Trina, your manager, doesn’t put up with this kind of stuff and will make sure he’s permanently deferred.

“Fuck you, bitch!” Cedric yells, sprinting out of the center with two fingers on his free hand holding his venipuncture site, some blood dripping underneath. Once the front door slams shut, you turn around and take off all your PPE and toss it in the biohazard container, saving your nametag and pen. Frustrated and tired, you walk to the sink to wash your hands. Keri and Trina approach you.

“You alright, hon?” Trina asks. She’s a good manager, always looking out for her employees. She used to work on the Donor Floor, so she’s no stranger to these kinds of mishaps. Tensions can be hefty in this area – some donors are desperate for money, some fear needles more than death itself, and some are just grumps. Phlebotomists usually get the brunt of it.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just need to cool off. I told Blake to call the cops.” She nods.

“Go ahead. When the police get here, they’ll want your statement, so I’ll come find you then… I’ll put in the PR now,” she says, giving your arm a supportive squeeze before walking back toward the offices. You give her a pained smile and look to Keri, equally concerned as Trina. “Take your afternoon break, love. I’ll handle everything else,” she says. “Thanks, Ker. I’m gonna step in the freezer to cool off and then I’ll go.” She nods. You head toward Processing, located at the opposite end of the center. Processing has two giant walk-in freezers that always maintain temps of -40ºC – great for keeping fresh plasma frozen solid and an instant cool down.

You step in one of the freezers, shutting the heavy door behind you. You walk over to the fans and stand underneath. The sweat on your neck and back quickly freezes in its downward track, leaving behind a sting that could soon turn to frostbite. It doesn’t take long to cool off here, and anybody staying in for longer than a minute is supposed to put on a heavy coat, gloves, and a ski mask. It’s a popular spot for blistering summer days and after heated interactions like this. Satisfied with the pink blooming on your fingers and the crunch of your frozen, sweaty hair, you step out of the freezer and make your way outside for your break.

Once at the picnic table at the outdoor employee break area, you do a quick scan for Cedric. You can see the trails of blood drops leading to and from his car, and an empty space where his car must’ve been parked. Heaving a sigh of relief, you plop down at the table and massage your temples. Fuck… glad this day is almost over.

“Sweetheart, you alright?” A soothing, Southern voice rings in your ear and you look up, seeing Joel approach from his truck. He says your name, surprising you. Keri must’ve told him it while she was going through the process with him.

You take this moment to return the once-over he gave you earlier. Twice-over. His sleeves are still rolled up and you can see his arm wrap. His jeans crinkle at the hip with each step, his strong, toned quads flexing as each foot contacts the pavement. You can only imagine what he looks like from behind. His cowboy boots are worn, the leather cracking around the toes. He’s probably the type to wear a pair until they crumble to bits. He walks with a quiet bravado, taking long, smooth strides until he reaches you at the table.

You’ve no doubt you look exhausted. Though your sweat has frozen, you can feel how frizzy your hair is, especially around your face. Your eyes sting with fatigue and the skin underneath your eyelids tug downward. Your throat feels dry and tight, like you might cry soon. He must notice because the look in his eyes morphs from concern to anger.

“Hi, Joel,” you state, forcing a smile. “I’m okay. Not my first rodeo,” you wink, giving him a sarcastic “yee-haw” motion. He laughs, but his eyes betray him, still showing anger.

“Mind if I sit?” He motions to the spot across from you.

“No, go ahead, but the cops are on their way and who knows if Cedric will be back,” you caution him. He waves you off.

“That fuckin’ kid don’t scare me, and I saw everythin’ anyway. I can talk to the cops if you ain’t comfortable,” he says. He puts his hands on the backs of yours, and you feel another zap in your chest like you did when you first saw him earlier. You notice now that he doesn’t have a wedding ring.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to. I’m well versed in this department,” you say, feeling the tears reaching their boiling point. You do everything you can to keep them in, but one betrays you and falls down your cheek. Angry that you’re crying in front of Joel, you try to move your hand out from underneath his to wipe the tear, but he beats you to it.

“It’s okay, darlin’. You did the right thing, stickin’ up for your people,” he soothes, his thumb wiping your tear from your face. He moves his hand to cup your jaw and swipes his thumb gently over your cheek. His angry eyes softened back to concerned.

For what feels like an eternity, the two of you stare at each other, exchanging more communication nonverbally than words could ever. He’s looking at each of your eyes back and forth, and you feel yourself start to get embarrassed under his hot stare. You try to turn your head away from his gaze, but his hand stops you. “You’re alright, darlin’, got nothin’ to be ashamed of here,” he says, reading your mind. You bring your hand up from the table to gently grasp his arm as a sign of appreciation. His gaze follows and he swallows loudly.

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a genuine, close-lipped smile. His eyes move to your lips and then quickly dart back to your eyes, like you caught him doing something forbidden. He removes his hands and stands up, walking over to your side. He offers a hand to help you up and you accept, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Sorry your first visit back here was so crazy,” you say, and he laughs. “Hopefully next time it’s not so… exciting.” He moves his hand up to your shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze before dropping it. A tingle rips up your spine.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be.” He gives you that same look that he did earlier, the one where you couldn’t quite figure out what it meant. This time, though, you think you know exactly what it means. Your stomach somersaults.

“I’ll see you soon, darlin’. Hopefully your day gets better,” he says, turning to walk toward his truck. Once he gets to the driver’s side door, he turns to look at you again and pauses. You stand and stare at him, wanting to say something in return, but too overwhelmed by all your emotions. He smiles and gets in the truck, starting it and driving off while watching you with a small wave. You smile as he leaves.

Fuck.

Next Chapter

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #centrifugation #pedro pascal fandom

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hassibah · 6 months

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https://commons.com.ua/en/ukrayinskij-list-solidarnosti/

Ukrainian Letter of Solidarity with Palestinian people

"Our solidarity comes from a place of anger at the injustice, and a place of deep pain of knowing the devastating impacts of occupation, shelling of civil infrastructure, and humanitarian blockade from experiences in our homeland. Parts of Ukraine have been occupied since 2014, and the international community failed to stop Russian aggression then, ignoring the imperial and colonial nature of the armed violence, which consequently escalated on the 24th of February 2022. Civilians in Ukraine are shelled daily, in their homes, in hospitals, on bus stops, in queues for bread. As a result of the Russian occupation, thousands of people in Ukraine live without access to water, electricity or heating, and it is the most vulnerable groups that are mostly affected by the destruction of critical infrastructure. In the months of the siege and heavy bombardment of Mariupol there was no humanitarian corridor. Watching the Israeli targeting the civilian infrastructure in Gaza, the Israeli humanitarian blockade and occupation of land resonates especially painfully with us. From this place of pain of experience and solidarity, we call on our fellow Ukrainians globally and all the people to raise their voices in support of the Palestinian people and condemn the ongoing Israeli mass ethnic cleansing.

We reject the Ukrainian government statements that express unconditional support for Israel's military actions, and we consider the calls to avoid civilian casualties by Ukraine's MFA belated and insufficient. This position is a retreat from the support of Palestinian rights and condemnation of the Israeli occupation, which Ukraine has followed for decades, including voting in the UN. Aware of the pragmatic geopolitical reasoning behind Ukraine’s decision to echo Western allies, on whom we are dependent for our survival, we see the current support of Israel and dismissing Palestinian right to self-determination as contradictory to Ukraine’s own commitment to human rights and fight for our land and freedom. We as Ukrainians should stand in solidarity not with the oppressors, but with those who experience and resist the oppression.

We strongly object to equating of Western military aid to Ukraine and Israel by some politicians. Ukraine doesn't occupy the territories of other people, instead, it fights against the Russian occupation, and therefore international assistance serves a just cause and the protection of international law. Israel has occupied and annexed Palestinian and Syrian territories, and Western aid to it confirms an unjust order and demonstrates double standards in relation to international law.

We oppose the new wave of Islamophobia, such as the brutal murder of a Palestinian American 6-year old and assault on his family in Illinois, USA, and the equating of any criticism of Israel with anti-Semitism. At the same time, we also oppose holding all Jewish people all over the world accountable for the politics of the state of Israel and we condemn anti-Semitic violence, such as the mob attack on the airplane in Daghestan, Russia. We also reject the revival of the “war on terror” rhetoric used by the US and EU to justify war crimes and violations of international law that have undermined the international security system, caused countless deaths, and has been borrowed by other states, including Russia for the war in Chechnya and China for the Uyghur genocide. Now Israel is using it to carry out ethnic cleansing."

#ukraine #palestine #solidarity

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starlightts-posts · 9 months

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YOUR WARRIOR | part 1

Neteyam x Li'ona!fem!reader

i have been trying to break my writing block for six months and managed to get this piece out of it

contains: brief mentions of scars/wounds, brutal murder of a fish, forced marriage, kind of enemies to lovers

and definitely has grammar errors, sorry for that

It was difficult. He was a na'vi hybrid, an exquisite combination of human and alien species, while you were the daughter of a pure-blood king. The possibility of a lasting relationship was low, nearly non-existent among your tribe, but that thrill ignited a dangerous spark neither of you could quench.

Neteyam was mesmerized by your beauty, by the elegance of your movements, by your firm posture, but mostly by your tangerine-colored eyes. Instead of the common golden gaze, yours had a tint of orange around the pupil. They held so much mystery and passion that Neteyam wanted to grasp and solve like it was some kind of a riddle. They held a bunch of secrets he was willing to discover. Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan fell in love with the Li'ona princess who, unfortunately for him, was betrothed.

You were promised to a determined na'vi, a muscular warrior, whose reputation was apparently unhealthily pure. But tasun was raised alongside your older brother and shared some of his personality traits. He was stubborn, too cocky for his own good and disloyal when it came to relationships. There were seas of rumors about his awful behavior towards his past partners, especially towards your cousin. You strongly disliked that boy but you had to obey your mother.

Maybe that was why you felt connected to the omatikaya hybrid. Neither of you had the freedom you deserved. Both of you were forced to grow up at a very young age, to look after your younger siblings. everybody had high expectations you had to fulfill.

But in reality, you were just hopeless teenagers who wanted, no, needed to experience true love.

You narrowed your tangerine gaze at the swiftly moving target, tightened the grip you had on your whetted spear and pinched your bottom lip with the sharp tips of your fangs, precisely counting every loop the unaware school of fish had been making. After a minute of watching, you aligned your armed hand with the target and inhaled the scent of seaweed as your weapon striked the head of a fish with a splash.

Quickly leaping over the seawall terrace to get ahold of the spear, you battled the smug grin that threatened to spread across your pursed mouth and studied your catch with a burning glimmer in your eyes. When your fingertips were about to touch the handle of the weapon, several weirdly-shaped creatures casted heavy shadows on the unmoving surface of the clear sea and attracted the eyes of other fishermen as well, awaking curiosity and confusion in the Li'ona na'vi.

You collected your spear, along with the multiple breathless fish, and took your feet out of the seawall terrace you decided to clear out today, a woven net overflowing with your catches caressing your exposed lower back. You strapped the netting to your slim figure and created clicking noises with your tongue to call your ilu. The animal greeted you with an enthusiastic squeal and revealed its back to the rider. After you connected your queue to the sea creature, the group of skilled fishermen set off towards the sandy shore where the intruders had landed.

You emerged out of the resting sea with your peers and pushed some wet raven locks out of your eyes that glittered in the afternoon sun rays. You abandoned your ilu along with the woven net near a centralized ilu pen after you offered your recent catch to the bewildered animal and disconnected your queue from it.

"What happened?" your younger sister questioned the sudden cluster of your people after she surfaced beside you, tugging drenched strands of hair behind her pointed ear. You shrugged your shoulders with a shake of your head and approached the herd of Li'ona villagers with the naturally curious girl.

You swiftly dodged any arriving people, keeping your tail close to your calfs in case somebody didn't notice your presence and accidentally stepped on it as they did many times before. Untroubled, your sister walked through the cluster easily, each Li'ona moving out of her way towards the intruders.

You slided aside to avoid approaching muscular bodies and the Olo'eyktan, who was returning with his newly organized hunting party precisely on time. You appeared behind Tasun, your betrothed, and the eldest son of the chief, your brother, with folded arms across your rising chest as Maratu walked out of the herd, spear in hand.

"What is that?" Tasun gestured to the tail of the closest Omatikaya boy, making the victim of his following remarks to glance over his tense shoulder. Your betrothed stifled a chuckle as he pointed to the thin tail that was flicking from side to side. "Is that supposed to be a tail?"

You slapped the nape of his neck in disapproval and released a warning hiss below his ear, forcing it to turn downward as you pushed the two arrogant boys apart. Your brother swatted your hand away from his chest and poked your side in return, chuckling when you took a step forward with a growl.

Neteyam lowered his piercing amber eyes on your small turquoise form and caught your tangerine-colored gaze in the process. The target of the nasty remarks flickered by his side while his withdrawn ears twitched as you displayed your full beauty underneath the bright burning star. A shimmering spark of forbidden interest twinkled in both gazes and sealed the command of the Great Mother herself.

"We seek Uturu," Jake announced and received judgemental glares and exaggerated gasps from each direction. Maratu tilted his head slightly as his wife, Kirnat, emerged out of the humongous crowd with a scowl decorating her facial features. You were pulled backwards by Tasun when the pregnant woman began to circle the foreigners and were detached from the eldest son.

"We are half-reef people," Maratu mentioned the differences as he gestured to the desperate family, weak chuckle stroking his lips. "You are forest people. Your skills will be nothing but a waste, JakeSully."

Kirnat tugged at their thin tails and pointed out that they will not be capable of swimming in the water. She approached the oldest daughter of JakeSully and Neytiri with a huff and seized her wrists to inspect her unusual hands. "These children-" she lifted them up for everyone to see and displayed her five fingers with a silent growl, "-aren't even true Na'vi."

"Yes, we are!" Kiri snatched her hands out of the Tsahìk's grasp and pulled them to her heaving chest, tangling her fingers in the shawl she had on her shoulders. Tuk wrapped her arms around her leg to hide away from the intense stares and snuggled up against her thigh, making you sigh in defeat.

Neteyam tuned out the persuasion when you sneaked past your assigned lover and appeared on his left with flattened ears, his twitching at the sight. He allowed himself to marvel at your softening face that showcased concern and some kind of pity. He absorbed your wrinkled forehead and the unique shape your pigment patterns were creating in the middle of it along with your delicate facial structure.

"Gross," your brother pretended to gag beside his friend and quickly shielded his head when you faced him with a glare and clenched teeth. The boy received a slap on his shoulder from your cousin, Maru, who silenced his laughter with a stern tone.

You bowed to show your gratitude before your youngest brother could tackle your legs. Neteyam narrowed his eyes at the interaction as his father pleaded the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk for a chance, stating that his family can adapt like he did many years ago. You picked up the whining little boy with an eye roll and let him fidget with your handmade necklace.

The eldest son of Toruk Makto noticed the tender caresses you left on your sibling's upper back to soothe his pounding heart and throbbing headache, swallowing the hums that were threatening to escape out of his mouth. He was flabbergasted by the relationship you had with the little boy and wondered if he was your younger brother. The urge to ask for your name was clawing at his dry throat and forced him to clear it as he dedicated his attention to his father and Maratu, missing the opportunity to catch you staring at his differently built body.

"Your arms are thin, your tails are weak," Kirnat wrapped her fingers around the youngest son's forearm to reveal his five-fingered hand and pulled it upwards, a hiss drumming against the walls of her throat. "They have demon blood!" The herd of her people took a couple steps back, mouths agape with disbelief.

Neteyam flinched when the pregnant woman poked his stiff shoulder and pushed some of his tightly braided hair forward to reveal a healed wound to the little boy that had been taking in his appearance in your arms. He pointed to the scar, which made Neteyam shiver. You followed his curious gaze and noticed the wound as well, scolding the boy for pointing at the Omatikaya. Neteyam covered the healed injury with his four-fingered hand and scooted closer to his younger brother, who had been devouring the beauty of the youngest daughter of the chief.

Maratu shared a look with his mate and tilted his head slightly to convince the woman without using his words. Kirnat stole a glance at the fleeing family and closed her eyes, battling her inner voices. Once they fluttered open, she nodded and gave her husband her consent. "Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us," he began to announce and buried the smooth end of his spear into the sandy shore. "They do not know the sea, they will be like babies taking their first breath. Teach them our ways, so they do not suffer the shame of being useless."

JakeSully encouraged the rest of the family to bow and mutter a quick thank you to the Li'ona leaders. Maratu accepted their politeness easily while his wife stifled a snicker and dissolved the cluster with a wave of her hand, motioning you to follow and return to the village with her. "My oldest son Ralu and youngest daughter Aneya, will teach yours the way of water," he clarified despite the protests of his son and silenced him with a glare. "Enough, ma 'itan. It is decided." [son]

By the imperfect posture of your mother you could tell she was against the idea of allowing armed strangers inside your village. you couldn't blame her. After the RDA attacked your former home, you refused to accept anyone who had the guts to travel beyond their territory, but here you were, trusting a title - Toruk Makto. the legend was well-respected in your tribe and beautifully captured in your songcords and celebrations, but would a true Toruk Makto seek Uturu among strangers? Run away from the threat?

Based on the stories your Ancestors provided you with, no. Toruk Makto would never flee, but a father would. JakeSully was also a father who cared deeply about his children and that was something a true warrior, a true legend would do - he would protect his most valuable treasure.

The thought of leaving your home, the people you love, behind just because humans are sickeningly greedy and unappreciative made you physically ill. And in some way, you had to go through that as well. So, after your father returned into your family marui pod and got scolded by his wife, he approached you with pleading eyes.

Your legs were dangling over the edge of the pod, ankles submerged. Various shoals of fish swam around your feet, trying to avoid colliding with them as your father took a seat beside you in silence. Your bioluminescent dots began to glow along with the underwater world you learned to appreciate and take care of.

Maratu exhaled heavily and placed his hand on your hunched back. You immediately straightened your posture but kept your exhausted gaze on the never-ending sea. "I know you aren't happy with my decision," he stated, figuring how you felt from your behavior during dinner. "And trust me when I say, I am not exactly happy either."

Your ears twitched at his confession which made him chuckle. "I know it will be hard to accept their presence and most people will take decades to do so." You turned to face your father, confusion flashing across your tangerine gaze. He grabbed your hand and placed it against his beating heart - an intimate gesture among your people, your father mostly used to show his seriousness and affection.

"What I am about to ask you may be selfish after what we had to go through, but you are the only one capable of doing what is right." His words scratched the back of your mind which awoke unpleasant memories. "I spoke to JakeSully.." you nodded and encouraged him to continue, "his oldest son Neteyam, I believe it was, was trained to be an Olo'eyktan-"

"What are you trying to say, dad?" you interrupted his speech as your fear of interacting with the Omatikaya boy kept growing. Maratu squeezed your hand and pursed his lips, giving away his request. "No," you snickered sarcastically and pulled your hand away from his tattooed chest, shaking your head in disbelief. "No, dad, that is- I am not-"

"I want you to become his personal trainer-" Before you could protest, he put his index finger on your lips. "He has great potential for a warrior and you will help him get there."

"But dad-"

"There isn't room for buts," he interjected harshly as he collected himself and stood up, silencing your upcoming grunts. "I do not want to hear it, daughter. You will help that boy out either way."

"Yes, sir.." you muttered angrily while your father walked back inside where a wave of joyful cheers and laughter of your younger siblings engulfed his tall figure.

You clenched your fists hard it made your knuckles white. You should have known. Your father never came to have a chit-chat with you, he always assigned you new chores, or ordered you to babysit your siblings.

What was so special about that Omatikaya anyway?

Was it his muscular body that seemed to be perfectly built for the sea and rainforest environment? Was it his pretty privilege? Was it his daddy's title? What the hell made him so suitable for the position you have been trying to get ahold of for years?

You had no clue and that made you furious. A frustrated growl crawled out of your throat before you plunged into the calm sea to clear your head. After you managed to swim far away from your marui pod and realized you were running out of air, you resurfaced at the edge of your resting village, fighting the urge to cough.

"Are you alright?"

Your bloodshot eyes scanned the shore for the source of that sickeningly soothing voice, finding nothing but pure darkness. A trail of tiny glowing dots started to move inside the rainforest your village was surrounded by from the other side. A lean, pretty tall figure emerged out of the woods, clutching a bow with a half-full quiver of arrows hanging on their shoulder. As they stepped out of the shadows into the bioluminescence, you noticed the bold dark-blue skin that was decorated with sharp and straight patterns.

You narrowed your eyes in an attempt to focus on their face, praying silently for any Sully besides Neteyam. But as they entered into the moonlight, you swallowed your prayers. Their tightly-braided hair was tied up in a high ponytail, revealing their defined face features. You traced their glowing dots, from left to right, and captured their golden gaze.

"Oh," you breathed out and cleared your throat as the Omatikaya boy approached you. "It is you.."

"You don't sound very pleased," Neteyam pointed out your disappointment and slung his bow over his free shoulder before he placed his hands on his hips. "You must be the other daughter then-"

You scoffed. "The other daughter?" Neteyam watched you walk out of the sleeping sea, seeing how offended you were by his words, and raised his brows in surprise. "You-"

You stomped towards the na'vi hybrid and poked his stiff shoulder, almost pushing his quiver off. "Do not," you warned and exposed your fangs in the process.

"My apologies." Neteyam withdrew his hands and took a step back to show some respect which you snickered at, not fully believing. "I did not mean to be disrespectful," he admitted and bowed to seal the truth.

The silence that fell upon you two was overflowing with tension and one-sided admiration. You were studying his unreadable facial expression while he was devouring your beauty.

His golden eyes traced every single droplet of sea water you had on your turquoise skin. Neteyam also tried to memorize the pattern of your bioluminescent freckles before you managed to turn away.

"Go back," you muttered over your shoulder as you started to walk back into the endless bowl of water, desperately searching for an escape from his curious gaze.

"Wait-" already ankles deep, you turned around with arched brows. Neteyam offered you a sweet smile, "Can you tell me your name?"

"You will know it soon enough, forest boy."

#avatar imagine #neteyam #avatar #neteyam imagine #avatar the way of water #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

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The Effect of His Kiss

TW: Smut. Language.

SUMMARY: A game of spin the bottle leads to a silent confession between you and JJ.

WORD COUNT: 400

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

Hot and intense make out w jj please?

The Effect of His Kiss

You had to behave yourself because you weren't exactly alone. But of all of the dirty thoughts on reservation were nothing compared to the reality he was about to bring to you as he pulled you to him to execute his turn of the bottle. The other pogues were torn between watching and commenting as this had been a long time coming. Tensions and arguments always born from a lack of sexual gratification would lead everyone around you to understand what either of you were too stubborn to admit. And now, there was no need for limitations aside from that of remembering you weren't alone.

It was a peck to start, the hint of mint faint on his breath from his obsessive need to chew gum as a nervous tick, which only bled into deeper kisses and the tease of his tongue to your bottom lip. Once you parted enough to validate his continuation, he pulled you further into him. As you sat over him in a straddle, a shameless erection at attention beneath you, you couldn't help but endorse it further with slow grinds that he controlled more than you could. With designated grips to your hips, he allowed you the dominance and lead of the kiss, while you brought both palms to his cheeks to feel every shift of his face until he groaned against you.

A series of French kisses would drive his tongue from the intertwined rest it made with yours until your breathlessness drove him downward. With a hand climbing up your hip, his tongue was bold at your neck and jaw, continuing still.

"And that's our queue..." John B groaned while he led the other Pogues now outside of The Chateau as you and JJ only noticed the freedom this now allowed you. For that, his grip moved beneath your breast and took stock, the renewed kiss breaking as he would feel your breathing affected by his touch.

"So sweet for me..." He moaned at your neck as you circled your hips for him before your hand led down his toned stomach before he surprised you with a grip of your wrist.

"Been waiting a long time for this, leoncess. Gonna take it slow."

Your brows raised. "That means you won't kiss me anymore?" You feigned a pout as he scoffed.

"You fucking crazy? Don't think I can ever be without it now!" He flipped you onto your back as you wrapped yourself in him once again. Only now, with the understanding it would be a kiss and heavy petting. But for JJ, even a lackluster kiss made all others before him not only pale in comparison but be completely forgotten.

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

#jjmaybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outerbanks #outer banks #obx #obxsmut #obx fanfiction

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ohwynne · 3 months

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TIMING: Around Christmastime PARTIES: Zane @rn-zane & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: A store SUMMARY: Zane and Wynne have to deal with an entitled customer while in line together! A conversation follows. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

After all this talk about Christmas decorations and consumerism and what not, Zane couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty as he hugged the shopping basket to his chest. It was just a few strings of lights, nothing boisterous, but the darkness of the house from the outside felt more and more looming with every passing day. The least he could do was put up some lights, pretend it was inviting when he got home from work. Actually making it look lived in would perhaps prevent an accidental squatter from settling in, too. Especially now with Chris dropping in when needed.

The store was fairly busy, an after-work rush forming a decent queue to the cash register. Zane zoned out, eyes rolling slightly when he finally noticed that there was indeed Christmas music playing. Apparently it really was never too early. Blocking out the rather bad pop-rendition of Santa Baby, his eyes roamed aimlessly until they caught on a gut wrenchingly familiar sight. Wynne’s back was facing him but it was them, no doubt about it. A few people separated them in the line but the second they’d finished paying, Wynne would turn and spot him.

They’d made it very clear that Zane’s… well, existence, brought them discomfort. He couldn’t blame them in the slightest. Shifting on his feet, worry rising at the thought of ruining Wynne’s whole day, about them probably trying to be polite while absolutely hating the sight of him, Zane made the sudden decision to simply leave. Gently nudging the person in front of him with an apologetic smile, he gestured past her. “Sorry, I just need to-”

“Boy, if you think I’m letting you cut this line, you are dead wrong.” Her voice rang out loudly, eyes sharp and freezing Zane to the spot, excuses about just needing to get past to leave falling on deaf ears as she continued on a tirade of ‘kids these days and their manners.’

—

With their new job paying a little better, Wynne was starting to grow more comfortable with spending some money on themself. One of their newest objectives when it came to spending money was adding more items to their wardrobe, which had been limited and very much filled with old Protherian clothing ever since they’d ran away. And though those fabrics were sturdy and comfortable, they looked out of place or rather — not like themself. Someone who had grown untethered from the commune that had clad them, fed them and told them how to both live and die.

They had tried on different clothes, looking at their figure in the mirror as if it was an improved version of themself, while also feeling like they were a stranger. It wasn’t really like they were venturing out wildly — they still clung to muted, earthy tones. But there was a pair of jeans in their arms that felt very much like a statement piece to them.

It was a glorious, kind moment where their freedom was celebrated in a tiny yet meaningful way. They almost forgot about the pessimism that had overtaken their mind, but it soon enough returned when another customer raised her voice. Wynne looked over their shoulder to look at the commotion, eyes already wide but growing wider at the sight of Zane. The sound of the woman’s voice seemed muffled even if it grew louder with every self righteous work she spoke and Wynne swallowed.

They seemed to land after a moment, grasping the situation better as in the background of their mind they remembered the vampire woman who had forced Zane’s head down into their neck. How she was dead like Padrig and the demon. They didn’t feel afraid, they found, just a general type of bad. Like their guts were churning in their stomach in response. “It’s okay, he’s with me, he’s not cutting in line,” she said to the woman, fingers digging in the fabric. “But we’ll um, leave. Okay?” Wynne moved from their spot in the line, leaving one less person for the angry woman to wait on and heading towards the back of it. The last thing they wanted was to be a witness or participant in some kind of scene. At the back of the line they loitered, looking at Zane and wanting to say something — just not being sure what.

—--

This was hell. Hell was real and Zane was stuck smack dab in the middle of it, being shouted at by an older lady with Wynne’s attention turning towards him, eyes widening in horror. He could have moved first, turned his head away, anything. Instead, Wynne’s gaze and the angry confrontation kept him glued to the spot, mouth dry and stomach twisted with anxiety. In some karmic twist, Wynne was the one who stepped up to the rescue, diffusing the situation.

The woman still looked offended but clearly found it harder to be angry with Wynne than the tall and, in her opinion, rude young man. Zane, to his credit, did manage to mutter an apology despite being practically smacked speechless at this point. His feet shuffled until he too had left the queue, hands clutching desperately at the basket in his hands. As if the solution to this situation rested somewhere underneath the lights and garland stuffed in there.

Wynne was watching him, making a prompt exit stage left seem a bit hasty, so Zane slowly shifted his way over. A good six feet of distance separated them, both seeming just as lost for words. “Those look nice,” was the first thing to leave his mouth that wouldn’t have been a new rendition of profuse apologies, head nodding towards the jeans in their arms.

—

So much had happened since that time in the barn. That wasn’t to say the memories had grown any less sharp and jagged — Wynne still awoke panting to the memory of that dank and dark place, feeling that cold sharp pain in their neck again. They still looked at Arden and wondered if she thought about it too, if she replayed those bits even if she didn’t want to. But so much had happened since all the same.

Some of the most relevant occurrences perhaps having happened within them. Though part of them was more lost than ever now that the demon was dead and that chapter was closed, they also felt more in charge than they ever had before. Zane was no longer as scary a thing as he had once been, in those initial days, weeks and even months since the kidnapping. And though they felt uncomfortable, there was no resentment or fear to be found. Just that same sadness that everything came back to these days.

They looked down at their jeans, then back up at Zane. “Oh. Thank you.” Wynne grimaced a little. They almost opened their mouth to explain that they were very excited to buy new clothes, but Zane barely really knew them. “That woman was not very nice. Your … lights are nice though.” They dug their teeth in their lip. “Um. How have you … been?” They did kind of wonder. After all, they understood now that Zane had lost quite a bit at that barn, too.

—

It wasn’t a smile but it was… something. Their eyes no longer held the same glaring amount of conflict as they’d done in the hospital, the last time Zane had seen them. Wynne looked better, too. Stronger, almost. But still in some ways shrunken by the weight of the vampire’s presence. He glanced back towards the woman who had loudly made her opinions known, giving a small shrug. “People get tense around the holidays,” he excused, even though he had no idea if that was just the lady’s general attitude. Benefit of the doubt.

His lips quirked slightly, relieved in some ways that Wynne seemingly wanted to keep this conversation going. It almost slipped out, that he was going to decorate the house but bringing their attention to the place Wynne had been held and hurt seemed… bad. “Trying my hand at some decorating,” Zane said lamely instead, shifting his weight, wishing things were different.

“Oh, uhm…” His eyebrows had shot up in surprise, the question probably the last thing he’d expected Wynne to ask. “You know… dealing. Done a bit of training with Emilio which was… surprisingly nice. Lots of work, keeping busy.” Zane focused on relaxing his hands, currently twisting the handle of his basket within an inch of its life, the plastic threatening to snap. “You and uh, Ariadne, huh? That’s great.”

—

That seemed to be true enough, that these so-called holidays made people more tense. Wynne tried not to think about last year around this time, when they’d been on the run and so many places had been packed and decorated. “I guess so.” People at home would get stressed around big rituals and the like as well, lash out more easily and make larger demands. They wanted to stop comparing things to the past and live in the present.

But it was unshakeable. Zane stood across from them in the store, but they were also across from them in the barn. They blinked. “I like the decorations,” they stated bluntly and simply, “The town looks nice. Twinkling like that.” They tried not to think about where Zane might put up the decorations, preferred to think it was just at the hospital.

When the vampire mentioned Emilio they were a little surprised. It wasn’t like they felt betrayed by this fact — just surprised. They trusted the slayer’s judgment, just as they trusted in Ariadne’s. That was two points in Zane’s favor. “That’s very nice of him. He taught me some moves too. It’s good I think, for us.” They probably could use some fighting skills. “Still at the hospital?” Wynne beamed a little, nodding. “Yes. I’m — maybe it’s …” They cut themself off. “It’s really nice. About five months now.”

—---

Zane couldn’t pretend not to notice the signs of discomfort, the way Wynne’s eyes would unfocus for a second or shift uncomfortably away from him, the tension in their shoulders. Not that he was doing any better but comparing their situations felt unfair - Wynne didn’t have anything to make up to him. “I agree. It’s always been my favorite thing about the season, everyone trying to keep away the darkness.” He huffed out a quiet chuckle at himself. “Which sounds way too dramatic when talking about fairy lights.”

Talking about the people they both knew instantly felt safer. Zane didn’t want Wynne feeling obliged to ask how he was doing, to pretend to care about his emotional state just for the sake of politeness. Both of them cared about Emilio, for some reason, and Ariadne for obvious reasons so the common ground felt steadying. The line moved forward and the two shuffled along with it. “Yeah, it was strangely nice. He’s a good teacher.” It was comforting that Wynne was learning how to defend themselves, too. While Zane definitely needed to, it was clear which of the two was more vulnerable. “Still there, yup. No shortage of people that need the ER, sadly.”

Watching Wynne’s face be taken over by an emotion that wasn’t stress nor discomfort made Zane unable to contain his own smile. “I’m really happy for you two. It’s good that you have each other.”

—

The world had been painted in black and white at home. No shades of gray — just absolutes. Things were either good or bad. There was either sowing or reaping, day or night, life or death. All these opposites were required for a balanced world, and in that kind of world view there was no space for someone like Zane. Someone who had hurt them badly and was still good. But Wynne had gained insight over the past months and knew now that these things could coexist. “No, it makes sense. At home we’d burn a lot of candles when it got dark. And there were the stars, of course. You can’t see them as well here.” They flushed a little, at this lifting of the veil.

It was still hard to trust their own judgment at time, as it felt like their mind was leaking with the thoughts of people back home. But Emilio and Ariadne trusted Zane, and he was being nice to them now. They inhaled and exhaled deeply and found that their unease wasn’t as large as it had been at the beginning of this conversation. “He really is.” They smiled sadly. “I would hope one day less people need it.”

They nodded. “I think so too.” Wynne was quiet for a moment, fumbling with the tag on the jeans. They didn’t want to befriend Zane, but they also didn’t want to think of him as the monster from their memory any more. He’d killed the woman who’d forced his teeth down. Wynne had condemned their mentor to death. There was a red thread there, something tying them together. They didn’t want to explain it to him yet (if ever), but it made them feel something close to forgiveness. “It’s okay. If you want to be friends with Ariadne. I’ve thought about that. It’s okay. You seem like …” They shrugged. “You could be a good friend to her.” They were both undead, after all. And in that area, Wynne could never offer Ariadne their full understanding.

—

It took him a moment to realize the flush spreading over Wynne’s face and another moment to realize why, his usual intuitiveness in reading people murky by the stress of this encounter. They had revealed something they hadn’t meant to, reminding Zane of their strange bonding experience way back in that hospital room. Another piece in the puzzle of Wynne's life, but clearly one they hadn’t meant to let slip so Zane brushed it off for them. “Nothing really beats a sky full of stars. I am a sucker for a scented candle, though.”

Again, silence settled between the two of them but it didn’t feel quite as heavy as before, a small step in the right direction perhaps? Zane was used to the silence of people thinking, pondering on a response or what to say next. Now that Wynne no longer looked like they wanted to bolt from the store, he could let the silence sit. Eyes widened slightly when they finally spoke again, a proverbial olive branch being handed over that Zane still didn’t feel quite deserving of. “That’s-” He cut himself off, an array of things to say at the ready that all eventually boiled down to sounding like he didn’t trust Wynne’s judgment on this.

“Alright. Well, I’ll be here if she has any time. I’ve heard being in a nice relationship can be really time consuming.” A joke, sort of, delivered with a soft smile. Almost hopeful. Zane didn’t expect Wynne to ever fully get over what had happened - it had left more scars than just the one they were clearly quite expert at covering up. But maybe things could, at some point, be fine.

—

Zane didn’t ask about where they’d come from, where they had burned the candles and seen the stars. There were a lot of places with candles and stars, of course, but it still felt like something personal. Maybe one day they’d tell him about how they’d recognized something of themself in him, but this place was not the right one. “I personally prefer a nice scented oil. But I don’t say no to a candle either.” This small bit of common ground was nice enough for now.

Had this really been the person who’d ripped open their throat? Who’d made them bleed despite his refusal to? It was hard to think of this Zane as the same person as he stood here, with strings of lights and talking of things so mundane. Wynne knew people contained multitudes. People could be vicious and violent and yet be kind, like Emilio. People could care about you and still intend to hurt you, like their parents. People could be the sweetest, softest person you knew and still have to make others afraid, like Ariadne. It didn’t make sense, but it did. It just was this way.

They let out a nervous laugh, bursting past their lips awkwardly. “We have our own lives! But yes … I do take up some of her time. But it’s okay. Really.” Wynne was sure of it. They felt a twinge of selfishness for their previous request, but then their neck was still marred. Some things took time. “I hope your house looks nice after decorating. I’m … I’m going to check out now. See you around, Zane.” There was no need to duck into an opposite direction if they were to see him again, after all. He hadn’t meant any harm in the barn and he certainly meant no, now. They lifted a hand in a half wave and walked back to the check-out, feeling their throat throb but feeling something besides their elation, too. Hope.

#zane.#a certain darkness.#threads.

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subliminalbo · 1 year

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One Shot #4: The Instrument and the Maestro

Standing on the stage before thousands of raucous fans chanting her name, Amelia clenched the microphone tight to her chest. She wished that she could just live in that moment forever. Wembley was the kind of venue that musicians worked their lives to book but Amelia was only twenty-four. She exhaled. What was next? Her rags-to-riches story had captivated the world. Raised by a single mother in Brooklyn, discovered by her producer. Jack, at a community talent show. Everything else felt like a dream. Her entire career was a haze from which she could pull few distinct memories as her life moved at a thousand miles an hour. Last week she was sixteen, yesterday she was twenty.

All Amelia really knew standing on that stage was that she deserved it. Her voice had always had a way with fans. Jack called it a gift. Their partnership had made her the most profitable solo act in the business. Her albums were often criticized for a lack of risk. There were plenty of takes from Twitter critics about Amelia's early work and her potential to be more than a popstar. It was true that before her partnership with Jack, Amelia had ambitions beyond pop stardom. She wanted to write and compose her own music, but Jack knew the business and a lack of freedom was the price all successful artists had to pay. Of course the negative reviews never stopped her singles from reaching number one on the pop charts. Even when people loathed Amelia, they still couldn't stop listening.

Amelia closed her eyes as the booming synth began to drone behind her. Time was picking up again. And when she opened her mouth and began to sing and her audience disappeared into the hypnotic lyrics of her song, Amelia too began to sink into a familiar trance.

Shortly after the Wembley show, Amelia met in the park for lunch with Jack and demanded to be released from her contract. Jack, surprised and smiling, reminded her that she was at the peak of her career. "You just played Wembley, why on earth would you want anything else?"

"I know Jack," Amelia sighed. "Wembley was great, you're great. But it's not about the money or the fame anymore. I want to make my own art. Like I used to."

"Of course," Jack nodded. "And I let you write a song for Siren."

Siren was the title of Amelia's upcoming album.

"No one should let me do anything. I was fine on my own."

"You were making low quality videos on Youtube. Supporting your mom on Patreon."

"But I had integrity."

For the first time, Jack frowned. "You know I only care about what's best for you. Are you absolutely certain about this, Amelia?"

Amelia shook her head. "When I was up there that night, surrounded by a hundred thousand fans, I...couldn't breathe. It was both so happy and so sad. Because I knew that no matter what I could never top that moment. Do you know what that feels like, Jack?"

Jack offered a sympathetic nod and said, "I just make the music."

"I'm sorry, Jack," Amelia whispered. "But I can't do this anymore."

Jack nodded. Amelia dropped her half-eaten salad into its bag, collected her things, and began to walk away. She heaved a sigh, heavy with both grief and optimism.

Jack, on the other hand, remained seated at the picnic table and calmly pulled out his cellphone. He slowly flipped through his contacts until he found Amelia and dialed. He admired the young starlet as she strutted confidently away. On queue, her phone began to ring, but as she pulled it from her purse, it slipped from her hand and landed uselessly in the grass.

"What..." Amelia mumbled as she stumbled on her feet. The sound of her own music playing back to her, pulling her down, deep into the same trance she'd grown used to performing under.

The trance was Amelia's true trademark, one of the things that set her apart from the other young twentysomethings trying to make it big in the music industry. Amelia had become known for her wild performances in which she lost herself in her own music. She'd admitted in interviews that she often lost track of time during her shows, a phenomenon that even her fans shared in. Many critics credited the trance to Amelia's perfectionism and showmanship.

When Jack approached Amelia, she'd dropped to her knees in submission.

Jack had been a gifted composer his entire life, but he couldn't perform for shit. That was how he got into producing. But after an initial series of failed attempts to break into the industry, he'd taken a chance on a young girl from Brooklyn. With Jack's hypnotic tunes and Amelia's natural talent, they could truly rule the world.

The musician looked up at her producer with those innocent, empty eyes.

"Amelia," Jack sighed. "You've gotta stop doing this."

"I am sorry," she said.

"What did I say last time?" he asked.

"I am the instrument and you are the maestro."

Jack nodded. "You don't want to work without me."

"I could never work without you," Amelia echoed.

"You're powerless without me," he added.

"I am your siren."

Jack placed his warm hand on her soft chin and studied her, checking for any sign rogue disobedience. One again pleased with his work he said, "Let's get back to the studio now. Especially before some paparazzo spots us."

#mind control #controlled #hypnotized #brainwashed #series: one shots #hypnokink #hypno story

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bonesandthebees · 10 months

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on another philosophical note sparkle emote (im too lazy to switch to mobile for the emojis kfjdsksd)

this is why i like . idk i love being online. i went on a whole rant today with my friend about like the freedom that having an online persona can give you. it's so much easier to experiment with gender identity with pronouns, etc etc

and even like... pfps. pfps mean so much to me. i have discord nitro and like . i literally thought it was useless until i did it to match pfps with my friend and then i never went back whoops, but i just... love being able to have multiple pfps. i love being able to express myself in so many different ways. i feel like having one pfp is so... constricting. i don't change my personality (or at least not consciously) when i talk to people online. in fact i feel more like myself online than in person lol but, it's nice to be able to express different parts of myself all at once.

and the amount of people who ive met online who are more comfortable with their online name than their irl name, idk i just find it neat :) i love seeing people having a safe space to truly be themselves eueueueu

agreed I love being anonymous online it's very fun to be able to give yourself kind of an alternate 'persona' where you can try stuff out like that!! names are especially fun. for pretty much all my teen years I could never come up with an internet pseudonym I liked more than my real name so I just. used my real name. because I was a little dumb BUT I didn't give away any other personal info about myself (like I never put my last name anywhere or anything) so I was fine

but yeah once i got into uni I started trying out internet nicknames and I have a lot of fun with them! I still really like my og nickname that I went by for a long time (I went by Cactus hence why my main blog is called bonesandcacti), but then when I got into mcyt I wanted to switch it up again. I liked the idea of going by bones, but I also wanted to try out bee because I have a bee tattoo and I love bees so I thought the name was cute. so that's how I got where I am now.

now it's reached a point where I go by bee in irl situations if I'm meeting people who (might) know me through my fics 😭 like anytime I'm in a lovejoy queue I introduce myself as bee, and when I was at twitchcon I only said my name was bee. I'm lucky that bee could also pass as a real name so it never raises eyebrows lol. I do actually really love my real name though. if I ever do get published you guys will find out what it is so you'll finally be able to call me it which would be fun

internet names are very fun and people should have fun with them :) I've never found a huge attachment to any of my pfps, except maybe my twitter pfp atm since it was art of me done by my dear friend @/aweirdlisa for my birthday last year. I love that art sm. but other than that I don't find I have a huge attachment to my pfps but I get what you mean. if I had full discord nitro I'd probably switch it up depending on the server just for funsies

#ask #icyfox17

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drkangcl · 1 year

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( dakota johnson , cis woman , she/her ) las vegas may be packed with people, but lana kensington has been on my mind. originally hailing from melbourne , australia, the fifty-eight thirty three year old has been in vegas for ten years. i know they’re a dj at encore beach club , but there’s a rumor on the strip saying they’re also a vampire. after some thought that makes sense , they can be +tenderhearted , but also -cunning. ask any local they’ll say they remind them of turning down your music to eavesdrop into a conversation, continuing an argument even when you realize you’re wrong, being the last to sing karaoke at a closing bar, & kicking out a one night stand at 6am.

connections + pinterest

statistics

✧･ﾟ: * 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 ‣ full name: lana hazel kensington ‣ nicknames: kensington ‣ age: 33 ‣ birthday: april 4th ‣ gender identity & pronouns: cis female & she/her ‣ sexual orientation: bisexual ‣ occupation: dj at encore beach club‣ hometown: melbourne, aus

✧･ﾟ: * 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 ‣ face claim: dakota johnson ‣ height: 5′7 ‣ build: slim ‣ eye color: blue ‣ hair color: brown ‣ style habits: lots of black

✧･ﾟ: * 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚 ‣ positive traits: tenderhearted & affable ‣ negative traits: cunning & chaotic ‣ habits: cigarettes, being late, irish goodbyes, not thinking about consequences

✧･ﾟ: * 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐥𝐬 ‣ kol mikaelson ( the originals ) , nick miller ( new girl ), lindsay bluth funke ( arrested development ), chloe ( don’t trust the b in apt 23 ), deandra reynolds ( it’s always sunny ), mike ross ( suits ), roman roy ( succession ) + overall chaotic good characters

biography

lana kensington was a total wild child, born and raised in the swinging '60s of melbourne, australia. That era was like fuel for her unconventional spirit. she thrived in the city's counterculture scene, soaking up all the rebellion, individuality, and freedom vibes. art, music, and fashion became her niche, shaping her tastes and giving her a deep appreciation for nonconformity.

her parents were on the simpler side. she grew up on a small house by the beach. they were the type to walk around barefoot and make sure everyone gets to go surfing at the peak hour. her, her siblings, parents, and little pets got along amazing even through the rough teen years. the love for each other was strong.

but wait, things got even more interesting for lana in her early 30s. that's when she went through her vampire transformation, turning her into this timeless and ethereal being. during that time she worked as a clerk at a gas station. that’s where she met a customer passing through. queue edward cullen moment because he was nothing like she’d ever seen with his pale skin versus her tanned. she was immediately drawn to him. one thing led to another and somehow she ended up in the situation she has to life with for the rest of her life

adjusting to her new immortal existence wasn't always easy, in fact, she’s still guiding herself through it even after 50ish years. but, nevertheless, lana managed to hold onto her youthful exuberance while navigating the ups and downs of eternal life.

her moral compass always pointed towards helping others, even if it meant bending or breaking the rules. lana's journey took her all over the globe. she jet-setted across different cities, immersing herself in all sorts of cultures. along the way, she mastered her vampiric abilities. her agility was off the charts, her charm was irresistible, and she had some supernatural power that she’s still working on to this day.

of course, she ended up in no other than las vegas! here’s she’s been living around for ten years. first a receptionist, then worked at a pizza parlor, the na cocktail waitress, and somehow she worked her way up to being one of the djs at encore beach club.

headcanons

she always has an magic 8 ball in her purse because she would never ask others for opinions rather would use the ball to make some big decision in her life

her phone is always on do not disturb

does not own a bedframe and is more of a mattress on the floor type of girl

has chinese take out every sunday from the same spot

loves to move in silence , you may see her when she enters a party but always disappears by the end

always been a troublemaker even when she was young but hasn’t done anything crazy to get involved with the police

ceo of daytime to nighttime transformation

was once a receptionist at aria hotel but fired because she called the wife of a guy checking into a hotel to cheat on her ( funny bc she is an accomplice for people who cheat )

has the sickest vinyl record collection that her parents started and gave to her

always goes barefoot when dj-ing a set. she just got a habit she cant break!

her sets include a lot of throwbacks which definitely give a lot of positive feedback from the crowd

her apartment is full of knick knacks that she’s collected through the decades

randomly becomes aware like damn im actually e*ting people and will freak out and lock herself in her apartment for days and days to a point where someone has to get her

wanted connections + tag + board

romantic : exes, tinder/hinge date, current relationship (destined to fail soon), one night stand, friends with benefits, the biggest cheating scandal of the season, was once engaged to

platonic : best friend, someone she knows from melbourne, first person she met in vegas, current neighbors (apt complex), vamp trio, sibling like friends (bickering a lot), former lovers to friends,

familial : siblings, cousins, family friends, uncle, aunt, mom, dad , an older vamp who’s her mentor/parental figure

negative : ex best friends, dated the same person, they just don’t like her (vice versa),

misc : current roommate, ex roommate, the one person she lets behind the dj booth with her, the person who turned her

#intro

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kogiopsis · 2 years

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Tumblr raising queue limits is too much power/freedom for me to have.

#my queue is at 402 and climbing and I no longer have to manage it #to keep it under 300 so I can keep throwing stuff into it #it's WEIRD #misc

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mmadeofrainn · 16 days

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Indie Fandomless OC, sideblog to @/ssolessurvivor

Highly private/selective. Queue heavy/slow activity.

Multi-verse, multi-ship, crossover friendly.

Penned by Saturn (she/her, 28+), minors do not enter.

// memes //

Gif icon credits: [xx]

Aesthetics: seaside mornings, toes in the sand. Hair wet with salt water, sunglasses perched on a tanned nose. An unknown, aching loneliness for knowing where home is. Conservation efforts for coral reefs and other aquatics. Life in a swimsuit with an old flannel as a cover up. Wetsuits as a work uniform, flippers in the ocean. Grandmotherly hands as a force of nature, encouraging the child to follow her dreams. Found family, big smiles, but quiet when alone.

Bio under the cut. Rules here.

Name: Rain Stirling

Age: 29

Likeness: Camila Mendes

Immediate Relations: adoptive grandmother

Occupation(s): aquarium diver, coral reef restoration volunteer, part time freelance snorkeling tour guide.

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Defining Traits:

-She’s warm all the time, making it consistently hard for her to feel the cold.

-Every so often, deep within her eyes, the barest hint of a glow resembling that of fire in the darkness. (usually is best seen when Rain is experiencing a moment of high emotional feeling/stress)

Biography:

She was plucked from a lava flow in a cooled glob of magma, taken into the rainforests of a distant island and molded by a pair of wrinkled, loving hands. With the talents of glass blowing, she was given shape and provided a heart made of water. Over time, she was allowed to cool and harden until the warmest of sea clay created her skin, the darkest of tahitian pearls chosen and polished to create her eyes. Oh so suddenly she began to take shape and she was given to a lonely old woman to raise as her own after her son passed in war.

Or at least that’s the story her adoptive grandmother told her. Young earth child or not, Rain was a lively young girl who wanted the most to know where she belonged. Early on, she had an affinity for the water (thank goodness her grandmother lived within walking distance of the ocean). Rain found herself wandering the shallows most of the day and running back to it after school. This affinity for aquatic life led Rain to have a passion for preserving coral reefs and caring for the oceans. This sense of purpose gave her a distraction for the ache of her heart on her worst days when she felt unequivocally lost.

Sometimes she’d even allow herself the freedom to wonder if her grandmother’s tales were true..how she was born. Sure, her grandmother loves her, but Rain doesn’t know how to describe this feeling of loneliness that sticks with her like a shadow, constantly following her through life.

All through elementary school and high school, she gained and lost friends quite frequently. She didn’t understand why it happened other than typical bullying or loss of interest in her own hobbies by her friends: who would want to spend the whole day in the ocean, anyways? Who wants to look at tide pools far too early in the morning, checking in on starfish and anemones while you might get pinched by a crab? While she bloomed into a young woman in high school, she never kept friends too long. Only when she got to college did she find a group of like minded people who became a force somewhat close to a family she might want.

If only she didn’t feel like something, some part of her is missing. Why she is the way she is and who was responsible for that.

For now, Rain spends time with her friends who have stuck with her since college, continuing to take classes when she can to further her passion for conservation. They are her family for the time being, they mean everything even if her heart doesn’t quite feel whole.

#pinned post #please don't reblog

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40sandfabulousaf · 5 months

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大家好! I've been exploring new local food stalls when I can to sample their rendition of favourite dishes and I'm pleasantly surprised. Given that many food businesses have raised prices, some still try to give customers bang for their buck. Some venues offer air-conditioned comfort like mall food courts, yet charge a fraction of the price, others are generous with food portions, a breath of fresh air compared to stingy ones that engage in skimpflation or shrinkflation. It pays to shop around for good deals!

youtube

Our Hokkien mee deserves more love than it's getting; almost 20 years ago, Scott N, a friend from Hawaii, visited my country. He tried many local dishes, but once he ate Hokkien mee, he HAD to have it everyday for the rest of his trip! He even wanted to learn the recipe, but alas, the internet wasn't what it is now, so he made do with enjoying every plate. Aside from fresh seafood, the noodles and flavourful eggy broth are the stars here. The stall selling it constantly has a queue, so I tried the dish and wiped my entire plate clean!

youtube

Recently, the local coffee joint which Pa and I hang out at from time to time raised prices yet again; no wonder the crowds have thinned out! It has reached the point where Pa wants to go somewhere else for his tea. I offered to take him to a recently discovered place which offers air-conditioned comfort and reasonable prices for their hot beverages. We're happy to support local, but profiteering at the expense of elderly retirees is unconscionable to me. There're other local places that offer equally fragrant coffee at a lower price and Pa may be happier hanging out there.

Some businesses seem so tone-deaf that the only way to get them to listen is to hit them where it hurts: their top or bottom line. People might claim that boycotting doesn't hurt and maybe it doesn't have an immediate or direct effect, but eventually it will work if we keep it up over the long term. We may discover that we actually like the alternatives better, such as how I fell in love with local food all over again when I supported local during the pandemic, or finding out just how great Anta shoes are for my flat feet! Once the alternatives are entrenched in our lives and work well for us, there's no going back. The benefit is finding great products that are equally as good at a fraction of the price.

youtube

There's no point complaining, Pa and I just take our business elsewhere and let our money do the talking for us. At least we have the freedom to do this; Palestinian civilians can't even go anywhere in Gaza without fear. Over 19,000 civilians have been killed and I continue to pray very hard for a ceasefire and a two-state policy to be implemented. I wonder: what is the point of having a religion when one doesn't learn the religion's great lessons, like having mercy? 下次见!

#Youtube

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interestingfactsquotes · 10 months

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6 Ways to Monitor and Improve Customer Experiences at Your Store

The core of every successful shop operation is the customer experience. Your reputation, client loyalty, and ultimately your financial line are all at stake. Customers expect more than simply things on shelves when they enter your shop. They want individualized service, a smooth shopping experience, and engaging conversations. A satisfying customer experience leaves a favorable impression, encourages recommendations from others, and strengthens the brand's reputation. However, a bad experience may lead to lost revenue, unfavorable reviews, and a damaged reputation.

Implementing Customer Feedback Surveys

Implementing client feedback surveys is one efficient strategy to track and enhance customer experiences at your business. These surveys provide insightful data on the levels of consumer satisfaction, their preferences, and their issues. You may find areas for improvement and make data-driven choices to improve the customer experience by getting direct consumer input. Use a range of survey techniques to get feedback from consumers at various touchpoints, such as in-store feedback forms, internet surveys, or mobile applications. Take action in response to the comments you get after analyzing the survey results to spot trends and patterns. You can quickly resolve any concerns, raise consumer happiness, and foster a great shopping experience by regularly monitoring and acting upon their comments.

Utilizing Different Shopping Services

The use of mystery shopping services may help you evaluate and enhance the client experience at your business. These services include hiring a group of impartial consumers to go to your establishment and assess different facets of the customer experience. The consumers behave as regular customers and provide frank input on things like store cleanliness, employee demeanor, the availability of products, and general contentment. You may pinpoint operations' strengths and flaws with the aid of the information you get from mystery shopping reports. You can improve the client experience and guarantee consistency in service delivery by fixing any issues that mystery shopping uncovered.

Implementing Technology Solutions

Utilizing technological options is essential for tracking and enhancing consumer experiences at your business. Track customer interactions, preferences, and purchase history with customer relationship management (CRM) systems. This enables you to cater to suggestions and customize the buying experience. To speed up transactions and improve efficiency, point-of-sale (POS) systems with customer data integration should also be used. Use queue management solutions to reduce wait times and enhance the general flow of consumers in your shop. The customer journey may be improved in several ways by integrating technology, creating a smooth and practical experience for your consumers.

Training and Empowering Your Staff

A key factor in determining the client experience is your team. To make sure that your staff has the skills and information necessary to provide outstanding service, you must invest in thorough training programs for them. Teach them how to communicate effectively, understand the products, and solve problems. Give your personnel the freedom to own client encounters and provide tailored support. Encourage your staff to emphasize client happiness in your store's customer-centric culture. Regularly express your expectations to your workers, and provide continuous encouragement and feedback to assist them to perform better.

Enhancing Store Layout and Visual Merchandising

Its design and visual merchandising greatly influence the consumer experience at your shop. Make sure the layout of your business is simple to navigate, with visible signage. Make displays that highlight your items and draw people in with eye-catching designs. To create a warm and inviting setting, pay attention to elements like lighting, color schemes, and shop ambiance. Refresh your displays often to keep them interesting and current. You may improve the overall customer experience and encourage consumers to spend more time perusing your items by improving your store's layout and visual merchandising.

Offering Personalized Shopping Services

Personalized shopping services may significantly improve the client experience. By helping clients select the ideal items based on their interests and requirements, services like personal shopping assistance are provided. Offer appointment-based shopping choices to patrons who want a more individualized and privileged experience. Utilize client data to offer email or SMS promos and customized suggestions. By going above and above to provide customized services, you show your dedication to addressing specific consumer demands and helping to create a pleasurable and memorable shopping experience.

Conclusion

You may efficiently monitor and enhance consumer experiences at your shop by implementing these techniques. You may build a customer-centric atmosphere that encourages loyalty and propels company success by comprehending your clients' demands and preferences, using technology, educating your team, optimizing shop layout, providing individualized services, and keeping an eye on internet reviews. Keep in mind that regularly providing outstanding client experiences separates you from rivals and develops your shop as a preferred location for happy consumers. Read the full article

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