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yamaweb · 2 years ago

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Warm Toy Story

Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

POP MART AU ‘cause i luv the new skullpanda series sm hehe

The body falls numb as a sharp blade of a nail pierces through it impatiently — like how a predator soaks its teeth into its prey, and it’s almost ludicrous how helpless the victim would be as it sits in silence, waiting for its body to be mangled and shredded just so its insides could be harvested — and all of this is done for the vile entertainment of the predator. All that the poor victim could do is stay still, voiceless at its last moments before its disposal.

“Damn it, it can’t open,” you mumble to yourself, having the ripped box in your hand. Foolish, you could tell that the box was more ripped than it should be, making it almost impossible to resell if you did receive a duplicate figurine inside.

Your power drains into the blind box, harvesting your energy each instance you dig your nails into it. Gritting your teeth, a hopeless sigh rolls out your flared nostrils — perhaps all it needed was another strike in the head for it to open up. Once more, you curl your hand, sinking your fingertips until the top of the box finally rips open. A shimmering glint appears in your eyes, optimistically hoping for the figurine to be the right one. The right one to finally achieve the end of the newest Skullpanda collection, after a brief, long hour of shaking and measuring every box’s mass, surely you were confident that you’d collect the missing piece to your puzzle.

Internally you pray and pray to the Lord of toys reigning in the toy corner, begging relentlessly as you close your eyes. Your fingers roam inside the little box, scurrying for the identification card of the figurine. Heat rushes to your face as you quickly realize that you stopped your breathing solely out of the sheer excitement electrifying your organs -- the fattest, largest breath of fresh air diffuses into your nostrils as you begin to function properly once again. Within 30 seconds, the card enters your palm, your fingers covering the picture.

You hold the card close to your chest as your heart beats into it, a blissful warmth surrounding the picture.

A final prayer to the Lord of Toys escapes your lips. Once and for all, you decide to open your eyes and face the potentially harsh consequences of an unhappy reality — before finally lifting your fingers to meet your new toy.

Your eye twitches and your lips quiver. The devil’s fury awakens beneath. You feel that it’s about to swallow your body whole if you don’t keep your cool. The fleshy, beating piece of muscle deeply engraved inside your chest stops for a split second, as you find out that — things in life don’t always go your way, no matter how much time you put into it, no matter what the balancing scale says, and no matter what the contents of the box tells you — you can simply just be wrong.

“The secret toy… AGAIN?!” cursing to yourself, you yell.

“Sucks to be you,” a voice from behind you chuckles, and you look back to see a male with hands in the pockets of his trousers. He seems to be around your age, slightly taller, and with raven-like thick hair; long enough to frame his face — accompanied by bangs reaching slightly below his eyebrows. His shoulders relax and he leans closer to you, his porcelain-like, pale hand pulls his white headphones down to hang freely on his neck. He smirks as he reaches for the boxes, spending a few minutes shaking and listening to the toys’ movements before landing on the final verdict. “Which one do you want again?”

You point at the toy you want, the Petulant, named after the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland. You currently own all of the other figures, with an extra secret one. Well aware that everyone chases after the Secret toy, you can’t help but feel disheartened having an extra one when all you want is one of the other ‘common’ ones.

“Ah, this is the one,” he reaches his hand out to give a thumbs up, “I’m getting it for myself then.”

“What?” you frown, clutching onto the box you just opened. You just met this guy, and he’s already acting as selfish as this?! Can he just feel a little sympathy?

You observe the male figure get smaller and smaller with each step he takes as he walks to the cashier, quickly pulling out his card to make a purchase. You couldn’t believe what you just experienced — somebody watching you grieve in utter pain, and then selfishly purchasing another toy just to make you feel sheer envy; it sounded like the devil’s work.

The shoulders you had confidently raised a few moments ago, now droop in misery. Shuffling through the ceramic floor as you make your way back to the train station, you mumble and sing songs on the way out of the toy shop while holding onto the pathetic, sad soppy piece of toy you spent minutes opening up. All hope is lost for now.

The train card presses onto the censor before the red plastic ‘gate’ opens for you to pass. That devil boy could’ve been your karma for spending too much of your money on these ‘stupid toys’.

You shot your chin up as a spark of electricity grazes on your shoulder — a warm tap suddenly filling you up with anticipation. You turn your head back, widening your eyes as you saw the same devil boy from before, holding the Petulant figure carefully in his hand before shoving it in your palm. It felt like the universe was all coming back together.

“You walked away too quickly. Wait a little longer next time for my luck to work on you,” he grins, brushing his hands onto his knitted sweater. He seems pleased looking at your silly reaction; your eyes as round as spheres and mouth gaping open as you stare deeply into the figure you swore you’d treasure.

“Yes, it’s free of charge, I have this whoooole collection already, living peacefully at home, ” he mumbles. “Nice to meet you, sad fellow toy collector. I’m Scara.”

#scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi #oneshot #pop mart #skullpanda #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

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yamaweb · 2 years ago

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Sushi Hiro’s Song: OVER AND OVER AGAIN?

One of Jakarta’s finest Japanese restaurants, Sushi Hiro, is charming in a way to customers in other ways aside from its luxurious fresh food. For instance, one could take note of their signature paper flowers meticulously placed on the ceilings, or their classy wooden furniture all around accompanied by minimalistic Japanese paintings. However, the one thing that makes-or-breaks restaurants would be the music choice.

Sushi Hiro’s common approach of utilizing classical piano music may not be surprising due to the already calm atmosphere it provides; but something prominent such as the music choice has captured the attention of many – including myself. This restaurant specifically chose the piece Gymnopedie no.1, composed by Erik Satie in the 1800s.

A classical piece, non-progressing and simple without a climax would commonly be deemed as ‘boring’ or perhaps ‘uninteresting’, but although it is slow, it invites the listener to indulge into the piece itself to feel self-reflection and relaxation. Overall, classical music has been proved to improve focus and attention due to its wordless structure. With this focus, the listeners will be encouraged to focus on their meal, their dining experience, and their food.

Not only that, but classical music (specifically the piano) has been commonly perceived as music that has elegance and class. This statement of affluence dates back to the 18th century – during this time, owning a piano resembled wealth and status. Pianos were owned by aristocrats and the wealthy elite who would also be able to afford proper musical training. Continuing up to the 20th century when factories had enhanced technology, their prices did decrease, but pianos continue to be seen as one of the most luxurious musical instruments to own. Thus, the status symbolised by the piano can be associated with wealth in general; persuading the customer to subconsciously believe that the food served can be perceived as a luxury. With that being said, a casual restaurant (such as fast food chains) would typically play upbeat pop music to fulfill their image of being a cheap and quick restaurant to-go, and vice versa.

The slow tempo of Gymnopedie is rather romantic and a song that avoids conflict, judging from its progression. The slowness can trigger the auditory cortex, the part of the brain that analyses rhythm, pitch, and timbre. Enough of that, though, this slowness allows the customer to take a longer time to eat, increasing the time spent at the restaurant. This could also lead to an increase in sales due to the lengthened stay as one would stick around in the ambient restaurant for longer.

All in all, the choice of a classical song, let alone a slow, unrushed song like Gymnopedie no.1 is best suited for the already purified image of what Sushi Hiro is. It fits accordingly to the quality of the food and the prices provided, as Sushi Hiro is perceived as a restaurant fulfilling for families or a group of friends; meaning that big and large amounts of plates will be served for one table, and even more to come – just because of the flawless music choice.

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yamaweb · 2 years ago

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little design for i3l comp made by me 😍

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yamaweb · 2 years ago

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Was The Royal Family Involved in the Death of Princess Diana of Wales?

Princess Diana (Diana Frances Spencer), informally known as the ‘People’s Princess’, passed away over 25 years ago, which sent citizens of the world a grave shock. Diana Frances Spencer, who was 36 at the time, was admired by the world for her advocacy for AIDs victims and the demolition of landmines in developing countries. While appreciated, she was evolving the traditional lifestyle of the British Royals; such as refusing to wear hats or gloves, attending her son’s school event barefoot, and breaking royal protocol by the way she dressed. Passing away due to a car crash with boyfriend Dodi Al-Fayed on August 31st, 1997 raised suspicions among the people: could the Royal Family be involved in the demise of a woman so loved by the world? Could this have been because of her rebellion against royal protocol?

In November, two years before Spencer’s death, the ex-Princess had agreed to attend an interview hosted by Martin Bashir from BBC. Diana spoke of Prince Charles's (now King)’ relationship with both her and Camilla Parker Bowles, claiming that “there were three of us in the marriage, so it was a bit crowded”. This brought mass attention to the Royals, as people all over the world empathized with Diana. Shortly afterward, she also admitted her affair with James Hewitt. Additionally, Diana also ‘highly doubted she will ever be Queen’ due to Charles’ affair with Camilla, who he will later marry after Princess Diana’s death – whereas Diana mentioned that she hoped to be the ‘Queen of People’s Hearts’. This interview brought a surprise to the general public, mainly in the United Kingdom, because not only did Princess Diana expose the adultery committed by Charles, but she also discussed her struggles with an eating disorder and self-harming – ultimately being the first in the Royal Family to ‘open up’ regarding such a ‘sensitive topic’.

“No one had ever heard of a royal talking about bulimia or self-harm. This was Diana smashing taboos in these s hocking revelations,” Nicholl (2022) stated, author of The New Royals Queen Elizabeth’s Legacy and the Future of The Crown.

Discussing self-harm and bulimia may be taboo to the British Royals, but this was not the first time Spencer defied Royal tradition. For instance, she decided to send her children, Harry and William to public school. Next, she also ‘destigmatized AIDS’ by refusing to wear gloves because of her liking for direct contact – thus shaking the hands of AIDs patients in 1987; debunking the assumption of AIDs being ‘contagious by contact’ and lowering public fear. Nonetheless, the rebellion of Princess Diana causes individuals to question if the Royal Family had a particular distaste towards the stigma of sickness being acceptable in the eyes of Diana.

Additionally, the controversial interview contained a lot of information regarding Diana’s life after Charles’ infidelity. She felt immense amount of pressure, as it can be shown by her mention: “I think that I've always been the 18-year-old girl he got engaged to, so I don't think I've been given any credit for growth. And, my goodness, I've had to grow”, which described how the pressure of being the wife of a Prince had given her no opportunity to explore or commit to her interests. Moreover, she also stated that anything ‘good’ she has ever done, resulted in no positive remark from any individual, but rather when she ‘slipped up’ or made a mistake, a ‘ton of bricks’ would come down on her – implying that the pressure she had faced at such a young age gave her much discomfort, contrasting with the Royals’ rich and comfortable image. The toll this took on Diana was that, she became to fall into an eating disorder. This continued on and became even worse when they filed for a legal separation in December 1992. Apparently, she told the journalist, Bashir, that she felt ‘deep, deep, profound sadness’ when discussing about her divorce with legal officials in the United Kingdom. According to another line from the Panorama interview, she stated that she believed ‘the Monarchy needed to change’ when asked by journalist Bashir.

“I understand that change is frightening for people, especially if there's nothing to go to. It's best to stay where you are. I understand that. But I do think that there are a few things that could change that would alleviate this doubt, and sometimes the complicated relationship between monarchy and public. I think they could walk hand in hand, as opposed to being so distant,” explained Lady Diana.

As a result, this could be deemed an insult towards the Royal Family, she truly revitalized the Monarchy and influenced her sons, or even the entire world on the destigmatizing of mental health. The trio, Prince William, Harry, and Duchess Kate Middleton, launched a Mental Health Awareness campaign named Heads Together – in which its vision is to partner up with charities and to create a communication strategy on offering support towards those who silently suffer from mental illness – which was

In July 1997, Princess Diana spent her summer vacation with Dodi Al-Fayed, the son of Harrod Al-Fayed whom Diana had met around a decade before in the 1980s. The pair began to see each other on this particular summer, which was months before their passing. According to Sanchez (2022), writer of “Everything You Need to Know about Dodi Fayed, Princess Diana’s Boyfriend at the Time of Her Death,” the pair first met when Diana took her two sons, William and Harry, to St. Tropez as Fayed would compete against her ex-husband Charles. It was not until 1997 they reconnected again, on Dodi’s family trip in St. Tropez.

Shortly after the vacation, Princess Diana wrote a letter to Dodi, presumably ‘expressing her love and gratitude’, according to the Associated Press. The letter read: "This comes with all the love in the world and as always a million heartfelt thanks for bringing such joy into this chick's life.”

It was not until a few months later, on that August, that the paparazzi spotted the two sharing an embrace while kissing. As a response, Dodi’s then wife, Fisher, hired a lawyer to represent her while she filed a lawsuit against Dodi; claiming that he told her to put her bright modelling career on hiatus to prioritize their newlywed relationship. Due to Dodi’s infidelity, the two ended up getting a divorce.

By the time Diana and Dodi finished their yacht holiday all across the sea, on August 30th 1997, the two were spotted in Paris where they spent the night at the Ritz Hotel. The next day, the couple left the hotel and went inside their car with their driver Paul and Trevor Rees Jones (bodyguard).

As paparazzi tailed them until they arrived at the L’Alma Tunnel, the driver, Paul, was reportedly intoxicated with alcohol and under the influence of the antidepressant drug Prozac whilst driving the Mercedes. This ended up in a fatal crush (around 60MPH) onto a pillar in the highway tunnel, immediately killing Dodi and Henri Paul. However, Diana quickly regained consciousness according to an ambulance medical assistant. Diving deeper into detail, According to The Guardian, investigators from France, one being expert Gilber Pepin, examined Paul’s eyeball-fluid, and concluded the reading as 1.73g/litre (alcoholic measure). Scientifically, these measures would be around three times over the French’s law on being intoxicated while driving.

The medical assistance involved in this accident, has been speculated to behave abnormally while treating Diana in her final moments. For instance, the ambulance was accused to have driven ‘slowly’, according to Le Parisien, the ambulance took about an hour to safely arrive in Le Pitie-Salpetriere Hospital, about four miles away from the crash site. Hence, it led to suspicion from many individuals online, claiming that the ambulance ‘slowing down’ was on purpose.

However, this hypothesis was debunked by the ambulance driver (The Guardian, 2007), Michel Massabeuf said that the hospital was immediately available to treat Diana, but he was unable to set off until her condition was stabilized. The doctor treating Diana for 40 minutes before setting off, Jean-Marc Martino instructed Massabeuf to delay the ambulance trip to ensure that the ambulance staff was performing emergency care for Diana’s cut thigh, a broken arm, and overall vital chest injuries. Though doctors operated for two hours, they could not get her heart to ‘beat properly’. Unfortunately, had she worn a seatbelt, the large injuries on her lungs would be avoided.

Onto the main theories, the first and most speculated theory, would be how Henri Paul (the driver) was paid by security forces either from the United Kingdom, or France. This is because his annual salary was confirmed to be around $30,000. However, on 15 different bank accounts, he had nearly $250,000, even carrying $1,500 in cash just before the accident. Quickly, this was assessed by members of Operation Paget, the British Metropolitan Police formed in 2004 to assess 175 theories regarding the late Princess’ death. This theory was close to being debunked, as individuals close to Paul personally, had mentioned that the Ritz Hotel guests gave him ‘generous tips’. Additionally, Paul was obligated to carry cash with him – as he’d help guests pay shopping bills while also being reimbursed by the Hotel afterwards. As mentioned previously, Paul was allegedly intoxicated with high measures of alcohol in his blood, but his best friend, Claude Gerrec, had mentioned that on this particular evening; Paul was not showing any sign of tipsiness or being intoxicated whatsoever. In conclusion, this theory was debunked because of the alcohol level in this blood – showing that this was in fact, recklessness, instead of a planned assassination.

On the other side of the narrative, Mohammed Al-Fayed, the father of Dodi Al-Fayed, had been convinced that the Royal Family would never accept the fact that a Royal could have possibly been pregnant with a Muslim. Thus, Al-Fayed assumed that Diana was assassinated by the British state itself for this reason; they did not want an Egyptian-Muslim to be the potential step-father of the eventual king. However, for this theory to be true, the Royal Family would have to be proven to be racist. No sources account for this accusation. If anything, the relatonship between Egypt and the United Kingdom are ‘the best they have ever been’, according to Egyptian officials. In the health sector, British nurses and physicians were actually encouraged to travel to Egypt to take their exams. Yet, there is undeniable history between the UK and Egupt, dating back to centuries before the present. For instance, Egypt was colonized by the British from the early 19th century until the 20th century just until Egypt gained independence on February 1922 – where they were no longer colonized by the British. Although the two countries have had a rather difficult relationship centuries back, the United Kingdom is one of Egypt’s biggest trading partners. Worth billions of dollars (United States’ Dollars), their trade in 2020 mostly consisted of vehicles and healthcare related products – their trades totalling to around $3 billion dollars. Hence, this debunks the ‘tough relationship’ that the two countries have, as wealthy Egyptian investors also have planned on investing in the UK’s infrastructures. This strong relationship dates back to decades even before the late Princess’ death, thus proving the theory of the Royal Family’s racism unable to be proven.

Thirdly, another widely speculated theory is that Diana’s death was caused by an intentional medical sabotage by the French. As mentioned previously in earlier paragraphs, instead of immediately being sent to the hospital, she was treated in the ambulance, on the spot. However, this could be rooted in the differences between the UK and the French’s emergency health protocols. As the UK prioritizes victims being sent to the hospital by the ambulance immediately without being treated, According to an investigatorof Buzzfeed Unsolved, Bergara. R (2021), stated that a medical sabotage involving a Royal would involve French doctors to break their ethical vows prior to becoming medical professionals. Either way, according to Dr Richard Shepherd, a British forensic scientist, stated that Princess Diana had a tear coincidentally placed in a vein of her lung. “Her specific injury is so rare, and in my entire career, I don’t think I’ve ever seen another”, revealed Shepherd. It is noted by medical professionals later on, that she was not wearing a seatbelt whatsoever: this raises another question – did she want to die?

Although there is no such evidence regarding her internal conflicts, reportedly, in an interview with BBC (1995), she spoke openly regarding Charles’ infidelity, and how she suffered with depression and bulimia. Despite the fact that she admitted on her own infidelity with ex-close friend James Hewitt, she had mentioned, “I desperately wanted my marriage to work, I desperately loved my husband and I wanted to share everything together. I thought we made a good team”, implying that she had loved him deeply and wanted to make their unfortunate marriage, work. Later on, she addresses rumors regarding her own self-harm, stating that “When no one listens to you, or you feel no one's listening to you, all sorts of things start to happen. For instance you have so much pain inside yourself that you try and hurt yourself on the outside because you want help, but it's the wrong help you're asking for." However, this does not prove the rumors of her suicidal tendencies during her final car ride from the Ritz –as she had been out with her late-boyfriend, Dodi Al-Fayed very frequently in the year 1997; travelling around the Mediterranian sea with his yacht.

There are suspicions that Princess Diana knew that she was going to die eight months before her tragic demise. The Daily Mirror (2003) explained that her formal butler named Paul Burrell received a fearful handwritten letter from Diana who stated that she was going to pass away from Charles’ planning of an accident in her car – which would result in brake failure and a head injury that would lead to her death. She claimed that her death would make the path clear for him to marry Tiggy (Prince Harry and William’s nanny) – and that she was afraid, as the beginning of the letter stated, “I am sitting here at my desk today in October, longing for someone to hug me and encourage me.” This raised concern, and Diana, at the time, dated the letter for her butler to keep as ‘insurance’ ‘just in case’.

This letter sparked controversies in the early 2000s, but it was not taken note that Diana did not exactly predict her own death with accurate measures. It was mentioned that she would pass away from a head injury and brake failure, when the truth of the matter was that she passed away from multiple chest injuries scarring her lung and a cut thigh – showing that her prediction was inconsistent; which can also be seen from how she claimed that Charles wanted to marry Tiggy, but in fact, he married Camilla shortly after her demise. Diana’s primary concern, however was caused by the alleged assassination of her former bodyguard and lover, Barry Manakee, who was similarly killed in a car crash. He was known to be her lover where an interview from NBC (2004) aired, where Diana mentioned that he was ‘the greatest love I’ve [Lady Diana] ever had.. It was all found out and he was chucked out. Then, he was killed. I think he was bumped off.’ However, this does not necessarily correlate to her own death, but rather, was the root of her fear towards Charles and the Royal Family as a whole – as her letter showed uncertainty, as it did not mention death of any kind, but rather a car accident that she may be involved in sometime in the future. This could just be assumed by her fear, as car accidents are frequent in the continent of Europe. According to the World Health Organization in 2021, there has been 120,000 reported fatalities in a single year with 2.4 million injuries – and according to Safety News Alert, 2017 contained 40,231 deaths from motor-vehicle accidents alone. Thus, showing that Lady Diana was most likely, solely in fear from what the Royal Family would do to her as consequence of her speaking on Charles’ infidelity, and on her speaking of her late partner, James Hewitt’s assassination – as vehicle incidents are extremely common among Europeans, and in the world as a whole.

As has been demonstrated and shown, Princess Diana of Wales, the Princess of the People, did not pass away by the orchestration of the Royal Family. To wrap it up, although here is overwhelming vidence regarding the planning of her death, such as the overload of money possessed by Henri Paul and especially the devastating letter ‘predicting’ her own death – and even her late partner who passed alongside her’s father’s own speculation – that the Royal Family would despise an Egyptian Muslim man being the stepfather of the future King of England. These theories have all been debunked by the following, repeated evidence:

Henri Paul was driving while being completely intoxicated, with no chance of the Royal Family or specific Secret Service members being involved with his alcohol intake. The fact that Paul was intoxicated showed that this was caused by his own recklessness instead of it being planned.

Henri Paul’s account balance being over six times his salary was because of his assigned work from the Ritz Hotel, as he would be obligated to pay for guests’ shopping with his credit card, which would then be reimbursed by the hotel, but with cash. Additionally, his close relatives/friends mentioned that he’d be generously tipped by the guests. The hotel is a well-known 5-star hotel, with a room for two being around $3,200 per night, according to hotel website, Kayak. Hence, this shows that individuals who come to stay in the hotel, and even to shop in the hote, would be wealthy. Thus, raising the possibility of Henri Paul’s received tips to be authentic.

Muhammad Al-Fayed’s assumption of the Royal family having a dislike towards Muslim Egyptians would be proven wrong, since Egypt and the United Kingdom having a tight-knit relationship, ranging from international trading and investing. It is true, however, that the United Kingdom has had a history of colonizing the African country in the 1880s, but they did not annex it and prevent the government from operating, but rather, the Egyptian government was able to independently operate. Less than five decades letter, Egypt gained its own independence – even before the birth of the late Queen Elizabeth, who had been rumoured to dislike Princess Diana.

Moreover, regarding the late Queen, Insider (2022) showed a picture of the formal pair off to a royal engagement in 1994 – which was long after Charles and Diana’s public separation. The two were seen engaging in a friendly conversation, wearing matching lilac outfits. In 1997 while announcing the Princess’ death, the late Monarch said: “She was an exceptional and gifted human being. In good times and bad, she never lost her capacity to smile and laugh, nor to inspire others with her warmth and kindness. I admired and respected her — for her energy and commitment to others, and especially for her devotion to her two boys. This week at Balmoral, we have all been trying to help William and Harry come to terms with the devastating loss that they and the rest of us have suffered.” This reinforces that the late Queen had the utmost respect for her and the influence she has had on media, and all of Britain.

Finally, the Princess’ prediction of her own death was wrong, as it was rooted from Paul’s recklessness rather than an assassination attempt. She was incorrect about her receiving a head injury from brake failure – whilst truthfully, the car that caused her demise had crashed into the side of a tunnel, resulting in a scarred lung tissue; leading to her demise.

All in all, Princess Diana’s death was not caused by the Royal Family. As tragic as her death may have been, she was truly an influential Royal, one of the first ever to raise awareness on mental health and to destigmatize AIDS – a disease previously seen as ‘contagious’. Not only that, but she was also a patron to over 100 charity organizations in the United Kingdom, and also patronised young British designers; raising their individual profiles. She dedicated time to tend to the homeless and especially tended to her to her two sons – doing simple yet impactful things for the two of them; such as simply showing up to their school events despite having Royal duties. It is, no shock, that she was the Princess of the People, even after decades. Though her death will still be speculated and hypothesized upon, the final verdict would be that the Royal Family on its own, admired her despite the ups and downs of her and her ex-husband’s relationship, which meant that they possessed no such convenience to plot an assassination,

www.bbc.com. (n.d.). Panorama interview with Princess Diana. [online] Available .at: https://www.bbc.com/historyofthebbc/anniversaries/november/diana-interview/.

Nicholl, Katie. (2022). New Royals Queen Elizabeth’s Legacy and the future of The Crown. First Edition. New York: Hachette Books

Sanchez, Chelsey. “Everything to Know about Dodi Fayed, Princess Diana's Boyfriend at the Time of Her Death.” Harper's BAZAAR, Harper's BAZAAR, 11 Nov. 2022, https://www.harpersbazaar.com/celebrity/latest/a41927318/who-is-dodi-fayed-princess-diana-relationship-timeline/.

Spyscape (no date) The French Connection: Secrets of princess Diana Driver Henri Paul, The French Connection: Secrets of Princess Diana Driver Henri Paul. Available at: https://spyscape.com/article/the-french-connection-spy-secrets-of-princess-diana-driver-henri-paul (Accessed: May 6, 2023).

Glubb, S. (2022) Egyptian Business Leader Brands UK-egypt relations 'best they've ever been', Arab News. Available at: https://www.arabnews.com/node/2091366/business-economy (Accessed: May 6, 2023).

The 12 biggest revelations in the princess diana panorama interview (2021) The Independent. Independent Digital News and Media. Available at: https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/royal-family/princess-diana-panorama-secrets-prince-charles-affair-bulimia-martin-bashir-b1205376.html (Accessed: May 7, 2023).

Robyn-Darbyshire (2018) Princess Diana Letter claims Charles was 'planning an accident' before her death, mirror. Available at: https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/princess-diana-letter-claims-prince-13162746 (Accessed: May 7, 2023).

Hosier, F. and Hosier, F. (2020) Top 10 causes of accidental death, Safety News Alert. Available at: https://www.safetynewsalert.com/number-of-accidental-deaths-hits-new-high/ (Accessed: May 7, 2023).

Friel, M. (2022) Rare photos show what princess Diana and Queen Elizabeth's relationship was really like, Insider. Insider. Available at: https://www.insider.com/rare-photos-show-what-princess-diana-queen-relationship-was-like-2022-11#through-the-years-diana-accompanied-the-monarch-to-official-engagements-in-this-photo-taken-in-november-1982-they-traveled-together-to-the-state-opening-of-parliament-5 (Accessed: May 7, 2023).

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yamaweb · 2 years ago

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Who am I?

I will never forget the face he made when I asked, “Who am I?”

The brand new cellphone in my hand dropped onto the peachy cement floor when I first heard the news. I was lucky enough – inside I thanked the spiritual beings up above for not shattering my phone screen, perhaps the Angels knew it was gifted by my beloved brother; and if he wasn’t lucky enough to survive the fatal injury, that phone would’ve been the last thing he had given me.

With my chest shuddering, feeling like it was my very phone that had just dropped onto the ground, I hastily picked up my phone, struggling to read the black, bold headline which took up half of my screen – my eyes were blurred with rare tears – I realized I wasn’t able to see right; to see perfectly without having foreign tears flood through my eyes. My brother had called me an optimist, but was it possible for me to put up that facade when he was hurt? Damn it, he was in pain, alone, Hell, even bleeding out in that damned picture. He was assumed to have brutal head injuries, and I couldn’t do anything about it. What if he forgot about me? The only family he had left?

I felt my throat closing up as I was standing tearfully, my vision wasn’t foggy anymore. My eyes wandered all over the news stream, still in disbelief that my brother was involved in a hit-and-run. I stood up, and it was a bit too difficult – my legs trembled, though I was never a frail and weak girl.

My arms were jittering uncontrollably, and my body felt lik e a nuclear bomb waiting to self-destruct. I paused for a moment, before I slipped my ghostly pale feet into an old pair of slippers. Somehow, it felt like my senses had been turned off, ignoring the inaccurate, robotic directions provided by Google Maps. I didn’t have the time to listen to the lousy phone in my hand; all I had to do was find my brother – and all I knew was that he was being medically treated in the hospital just across from my apartment.

I ran, I ran, and I ran – mindlessly like a headless chicken. I ignored the looks, the judgemental stares from the strangers who walked past me – looking at me like I was some sort of shameless maniac.

‘They don’t know him,’ I thought, ‘God.. Damn it! Is he okay? What if he’s dead? What if he doesn’t know me anymore?! I’m the only one he has left!”

The final turn took me to the unsettling, pathetic monochromatic gate to the hospital he laid in. Cars of all shapes and sizes were parked by the front, and I felt a lump slip down my throat, anxious that I had to wait endlessly just to see him – a queue would be the death of me. My legs were close to collapsing, just before I made the final jog to the glass door which welcomed me right into the main hospital hall.

My pupils wandered across the whites of my eyes; and briefly I felt like my eyes sprinted to the back of my head. Finally, after a few excruciating seconds of trying to find the receptionists, Iwas able to receive a room number from one of the nurses dressed in bright blue scrubs.

“Room 307, under the name of Mr. Bennett,” her reassuring voice echoed in my head over and over again, forcing my memory to work wisely as her sleek voice acted as a constant reminder – an alarm, almost.

I searched for the nearest elevator – despite this hospital being huge, the elevators were pretty much nowhere to be seen.

My eyes glimmered, a quick shine erupting on my irises before everything turned real again, when I saw the brass-colored elevator. It was a relieving sight to see, except for when seven people were all pushing each other to walk in.

I was ignorant for once, refusing to consider the passengers’ bodily boundaries when I squeezed myself right inside like a forbidden puzzle piece, feeling the sour scent of fresh sweat attack my nostrils.

My arms wiggled through the two other women in the elevator, barely grazing upon the number ‘3’ button. I sighed once more while my chest felt as if it was crumbling; like the failed cookies my brother made, like his shoes after wearing the same pair for the first time in years – deteriorating, possibly like the fragile life being held and sustained by bandages and ventilators.

The elevator felt eerily spacious, emptier, when it arrived at the second floor; it was my turn to go right afterwards – and finally witness my brother’s dire state.

My weak and brittle legs twisted and turned to find Room 307, and my mind and heart ached whenever I ended up in front of the wrong room. I cursed to myself far too many times, but it was truly deserved – I wasn’t able to be there for my brother. The nervewracking sense of wallowing self-blame imploded in my nerves, and I was able to hear its voice tell me, “Why weren’t you protecting him? You’re lucky he’s alive. He could’ve died, and it would’ve been all your fault.”

Oh, how I loathed the self-blame.

I shook my head, finally venturing to the last room on the floor – finally the correct one. Not bothering to spare an ounce of courtesy, I strangled the doorknob, pushing my sweat-covered body into the room.

“Victor!” I yelled, a smile creeping its way onto my face when I saw my brother sitting upright on the baby blue bedsheets on the cramped bed – littered with white, soulless pillows.

For a second, his hazel eyes turned grayer, fading into a darker shade of espresso, “How do you know my name?”

Did he forget about me? Just like that?

My eyes widened, and the world around me shattered and caved in. My whole world was thrown away after those six, soul-crushing words and I was so stupidly blind to ignore the thick bandages wrapped around his head. Perhaps it was a brutal, murderous head injury. No, no. He couldn’t possibly forget about me, I’m his sister! His companion throughout life.. throughout.. everything – and we were so doomed, so unlucky to have my most gargantuan fear merge with reality.

It wasn’t fair, it’s never fair. Why did we have to suffer the consquence?

“Y-you, you’re joking, right? Please… Victor,” My knees finally fell, crestfallen on the landing. I was kneeling helplessly beside him, “You can’t forget about me.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he lifted his finger to scratch his temple, not forming an audible response.

“Who am I?” I asked once again, my world was already broken into millions of sharp objects, invisibly cutting through every fragment of me.

“Huh?”

“Who am I, Victor?” I raised my voice while my face turned maroon, more sweat scratching its way through my skin.

“Oh my God, Sydney. I was joking. I wasn’t serious!” Victor raised his voice back. Quickly, his mouth closed while laughter filled his cheeks, the most irritable noises stifled in his face.

What the Hell was wrong with him?!

“That’s not funny.”

“That’s dumb, it only happens in movies.”

“Next time, I’ll hit your head so hard, you won’t be able to speak.”

He played it off as a joke, but that was exactly what I wanted to do next.

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yamaweb · 2 years ago

Text

As The World Caves In

The end of the world was coming, but for once I felt alive.

Fearfully frantic, everyone was. News branches on national television shut down their programs entirely, while other bigger branches continued their depressing broadcast. From the quivering of voice, to a mental breakdown on live television – restlessness was the one thing everybody had in common. There was nothing that can be avoided, nothing to be prevented. The world was having a crisis, yet, they surrendered. Fate was to be accepted.

I am dying. I have been. I’m terminally ill. I was supposed to have two weeks of life left.

Yet, I feel happy. I don’t get to die alone, I’m satisfied. From time to time, I felt that the world deserved to be treated the way nature has treated me. I’ve been a terminally ill child since I was five, yet my body has endured through it all. Every day I’ve loathed myself. The cancer was the utter bane to my existence; and that was an understatement, I fear. Everyone lived their healthy lives in full mobility; doing things that I’d literally die doing. I suffered and suffered without ever doing anything wrong.

I’m thankful that the world was going to end.

Enter Juliette Hawkes, a pale-faced girl with grizzly-bear coloured eyes. Her hair was dark and extended until her ribs. She’s always been a bright girl, but she’s been graying for the past few hours. Her eyes were swollen and her mascara was smudged across her face. Her face nearly turned cornflower blue and sweat constantly dripped from her forehead. I could tell she didn’t want to die; especially not like this.

“Julie.”

“Louis, I–” Her breath hitched.

“Hush,” I gestured with my arms for her to come close and get in the blanket with me. “We can do anything we want today.”

“Even hiking?” She managed to crack a joke mid crisis, mid crying. I loved that about her.

“Ha. You know I can’t do that, love.”

She tried her best to maintain a smile, but I could just merely tell that she was going to break down again. Her eyes creased forcefully, and her lips trembled– switching from a frown to a smile, malfunctioning.

“We have a few hours left,” I started. “It’s okay, you did your best. I’m proud of you.” It ached me and I shrieked inside just to say that. “I don’t know why they did what they did. Trump and Theresa are sociopaths.”

She held both of my hands and gently grazed her fingers on the places covered in adhesive band-aids. She stared at them briefly, “Life really hasn’t been fair to you. I was hoping you’d recover.”

And then, I stood up. “Let’s get dressed up.”

“Where are we going?” She looked concerned.

“Nowhere. We’re going to have a final, candle-lit dinner right here. Before everything unfolds.”

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yamaweb · 3 years ago

Text

Annie

I have been living with my sister, Annie for two years ever since she had to move in with me for her further studies. She is four years younger than me and has been nothing but a sweet, smart, and lovely girl overall. Ever since she moved in, I felt as if I had a companion to lean on and talk to, since all of my work friends lived far away from my neighborhood.

Annie was outgoing, funny, and loud at times. She would irritate me sometimes and try to annoy me while I’m working, but it becomes nothing than just ordinary sibling banter. She wasn’t the type of person to hide from anything; she was the type of person to grab cockroaches from the bathroom and dispose of them outside whenever I got too scared. Nevertheless, she was brave, social and really annoying.

However, for the past two weeks, I’ve been noticing strange behaviour from her. Since we do not share a room together, I’m not there to monitor her every single move and especially since I work until 8 pm, but whenever I’d return from work for the span of this week, I’d hear whistling and hissing noises from her room’s wardrobe.

The first time this happened, I thought that she was just trying to scare me; but it kept on happening. She was a creative girl and would definitely not use the same trick twice. The first time I caught her, she was rather wide-eyed and had a smile on her face.. after hissing and whistling.

On the day this first happened, I opened the wardrobe’s door out of sheer worry, “Jesus Christ Annie, you scared me like crazy. Dude, what are you even doing here?” I asked.

She shrugged, “Just trying to shock you.”

Then, she got out of the wardrobe, carried on with her homework I assumed, and remained normal until I set off for work in the morning. Again, I do not share a room with her, so I couldn’t monitor her every single move whenever I was gone or out of her sight. I don’t really know what has gotten into her.

The second time this happened, it was rather earlier in the evening—strangely I was dismissed earlier from work and got to go home quick. And there it was again; the same hissing noises and the whistling, but they just happened to be louder.

I opened the wardrobe again, out of annoyance, “Dude, again? You’re really running out of ideas-“

I was interrupted by Annie’s strange giggling. She had slightly wider eyes than usual, but since it was just the second time it happened; I didn’t think much of it. Her stupid little pranks as an attempt to scare me seemed to make her happy, so I couldn’t stay disturbed for that long.

The next day, the same thing happened again, but I guess the timing was different since it was a weekend. I was buying groceries; but somehow she timed her little ‘wardrobe prank’ perfectly to make it so she’d always be in there whenever I came home.

I was annoyed, “Dude. Seriously. Stop it. It’s really getting boring.”

There she was again, smiling and crouching on the slab of the empty wardrobe.

As a result, it was nothing but the same giggle of the same frequency that came out of her. The hissing was starting to get louder and louder by each day and started to resemble a snake’s hiss.

I started to google about this weird hissing problem, but nothing reasonable seemed to come up. She never had any mental illness when I was growing up with her and did not develop tics while she was studying here. I was sure of it. I was sure she would’ve told me if she had repetitive tics or worse, Tourettes’ Syndrome.

The next day, the same thing happened, but I was too tired to even complain at this point. Sure, the hissing was getting louder; but to me, it was whatever. Ignorance is bliss, am I right?

We happened to be playing Counterstrike together the next morning during our respective homework-and-work break, and when the round was over I managed to ask,

“What was with the hisses and you hiding in the wardrobe?”

She scratched the back of her neck, “Nothing.”

“The hell you mean, nothing? Are you feeling well?” I asked, concerned. But nothing seemed to come out from her; she just shook her head. “Ugh, whatever. You’re actually damn annoying sometimes.”

“Ehe,” she laughed.

Afterwards, we carried on normally.

The next two days, I did not find her in the usual wardrobe. In fact, I did not find her anywhere in the house during the nighttime; so obviously as a brother, I got concerned and texted her.

‘Where r u annie????’

‘i’m at my friend’s. i’m sleeping over.’

‘Like today? ok then. Hv u told mom n dad?’

‘yh’

‘Aight stay safe’

My heart rate slowed down to a normal pace, so I relaxed and played some Call of Duty on my computer to kill some time. After a couple losses and a singular win, I decided to stop. It was late anyway.

Right as I shut off all the lights in the rooms; I heard a wicked shriek from the guest room. Shaken and taken aback, I ran to the kitchen straight from my room and grabbed the closest kitchen knife.

I took little baby steps to reach the guest room. I assumed it was a rat— I was used to them infiltrating the rooms anyway.

The shriek got louder as I got closer, and a frown plastered on my face as I found the source of the noise.

It was from the closet.

My heart pounded hard in my chest, grinding like metal being crushed to make a chain. Shivers and lightning struck through my spine. I might have been holding a kitchen knife as combat, but I was horrified.

It was in the closet, but it couldn’t be that bad. Plus, my sister’s with her friends anyway. Hopefully she wasn’t creeping them out.

I took a deep breath and an unknown, vile, smell lingered through my nose and nearly penetrated my lungs.

The smell was horrific. Smelled like too many rats; an experiment gone wrong.

I opened the door to the closet, and my knife dropped out of horror and I screamed in agony.

Just to see my sister’s body fallen on the floor.

Who texted me?! What the fuck happened to my sister?

#horror #thriller

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yamaweb · 3 years ago

Text

Old Man’s Mansion

My grandfather passed away a week ago.

He passed away peacefully from old age– from natural causes. Presumably, he passed happily and without a burden. He was a billionaire, and his children ended up successful, making maybe a consistent seven figures a year. From a neurosurgeon to real estate agents; my aunts and my father never failed the old man.

Not only was my old man rich, but he was filthy rich. He had mansions in 6 continents and was on Forbes as the richest man in the West Coast. Despite the wealth he’s lived through for decades, he was kind. Donated millions to charity a couple times and spent his final decade as a philanthropist; he had cash that’d stack up to heaven, but remained down-to-Earth.

A few days ago, he had a closed-casket funeral. Initially, he’d planned it to be open-casket, inviting his family and friends. Though, he realised that the press was certainly not going to be friendly. The paparazzi wouldn’t allow him to go peacefully; they would surely leak pictures of his deceased body all over the World Wide Web.

As if a small, closed-casket funeral wasn’t enough – we had to fly to Switzerland for his burial. Extra, sure, but I appreciated that my family was wary of how nasty the press could be. The family wanted to let Pops rest.

As for the will, my aunts and my father had inherited Grandpa’s billions and several estates. I didn’t receive any amount of money; but I had inherited one of his mansions– his favourite, to be exact.

Here I was, walking endlessly through the chessboard-like halls of this house of infinite rooms. To say the least, this house had everything a man would need. A pool table, several athletic courts, music rooms and around six libraries. Personally, I wouldn’t utilize these rooms at all.

Then, my stomach rumbled. It growled; it felt like my intestines were getting all mixed up in acid. I bet this was because of the frozen yoghurt I had for breakfast.

As I walked, there laid protected awards and museum-worthy artifacts throughout the hall.

A butler emerged from the corner. Robotic, he stood. I’ve always wondered how Grandpa’s butlers would be so.. empty.

“Hey,” I waved at the butler. I didn’t receive an auditory response, but I received a sole nod.

“Is there anything you need?” he asked. “You look.. unsettled.”

He was right. I was clutching onto my stomach as if I was stabbed; plus, the room was unnervingly cold. What a pleasant combination.

“I’m very unsettled actually,” I attempted to joke.

No chuckle and no hint of emotion.

“How may I help you?”

“Where’s the bathroom? There are barely any signs,” I inquired.

“Right this way,”

I trailed behind him as he pushed the three metre acacia door to the library. Aside from a tsunami of books; there were couches, beanbags, and televisions. I’d assume this was built for his grandchildren and great grandchildren. It was ironic how a library could contain an earthquake of colours. I also never knew a library could contain toilets.

I followed him and finally reached the bathroom after an endless-seeming walk in the childlike library.

“Thanks,” were the final words I said before I had my delightful diarrhea.

—-

After the most excruciating excretion of my life– I walked out. To my surprise, the butler I was just talking to, left the room. It was amazing how fast he had left this large library, perhaps he memorized every part of the house as he was working for Pops.

Curious, I walked around to search for the butler. My time in the bathroom didn’t take long– but he was nowhere to be found. This library was a maze. There was a pair of spiral-like stairs, architectured identically like the Fibonacci sequence. I thought; how did he leave this room so fast?

A sigh escaped my lips as I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Its lockscreen read ‘3:13 PM’. See? I did not take that long.

Ding, ding, ding.

A flood of notifications swarmed my phone; all from my friends demanding a house tour. I furrowed my eyebrows as I squinted my eyes at the screen. How inconsiderate.

My friends were usually nice, and they were surely comedic relief. I couldn’t confide in them, really. They were difficult and couldn’t keep others’ secrets to themselves – you’d think that there’d be at least one person I knew who wouldn’t be phased when they find out I inherited a billionaire’s mansion, but you’d be wrong.

This is why I was never a people person.

Annoyed, I opened up my messaging app to read all of their texts, but I was distracted enough to hit a minimalist bookshelf, on the wall, straight to my forehead. “Ow,” I grunted, my head swirling hazily to the harsh hit on my head.

Rubbing my forehead, I heard a distant opening behind the wall I hit. My eyes widened, wonderously as the satisfying sound of automatic clicks and pushes harmonised in my ears.

Soon enough, the wall opened up and formed a rectangular passage for me to enter. A secret room? Sick. I’d have never expected technology to be this advanced.

I walked through the dim passage curiously, as each step I took, a childish note of a xylophone would echo. At that moment, I smiled to myself. Maybe I was right, this whole room was designed for youngsters to play and read in.

The hallway came to an end as I was introduced to a dark room that required a lightswitch to be bright. It was strange how all of his rooms didn’t require a switch to turn bright, but I dismissed the thought as shivers started to run through my spine.

Goosebumps appeared on my skin and I felt tingles crawling up to the back of my neck. My jaw started to quiver from the cold and. The rest of the mansion was never this cold.

As the yellow light began to light up ever so slowly, I saw several high-tech refrigerators that appeared futuristic to the point it’d come straight out of a Sci-fi movie. They didn’t have handles, instead, they had camera sensors, and I’d assumed that they’d be able to detect people who ever came near.

These refrigerators were located all across the room, from corner to corner, and all had a blue screen laid out at the front– all displaying the time and the temperature, and a small countdown in every top corner of the fridge. Oddly enough, the countdowns were all.. different.

I concentrated on three of the fridges. The countdowns consisted of different years. The one on the left read “17 YRS 296 DAYS 12:02:01”, the middle, “68 YRS 304 DAYS 09:12:50”, while the one on the right, appeared to differ the most. “132 YRS 180 DAYS 03:08:54”

The seconds dropped constantly, I was curious enough to maintain eye level with one of the camera sensors on the fridge with the most amount of years left. After a few seconds, a scanning noise was apparent, and a horizontal, green laser was scanned from my head to my toes.

I arched an eyebrow in confusion. I was scared. Was I about to die?

Defeated, I closed my eyes. I accepted my fate and perhaps I made the worst decision in my life. I assumed that I was going to die. My hands trembled more than they already were.

To my surprise, a cold gust of steam flooded my vision, and I started coughing out of instinct as I feared smoke. Though, it wasn’t smoke; rather, it was just a cold, scentless gas that one would see opening a package of dry ice.

The doors of the refrigerator flipped open, and I was hesitant to open my eyes after the gas diffused throughout the room. When I finally opened one of my eyes to peek, I noticed the unsettling, sour smell; I couldn’t help but gag.

I took a full look of what was in the refrigerator and the color on my face disappeared. My jaw gaped wide open and my shivers disappeared. The room fell quiet as no more gas was coming out.

The silence of the room was eerie, to the point where I could hear my blinks, my quick breaths, and my heart racing. Sniffles escaped my throat, and bubbles of sweat travelled down my temples, ignoring the cold.

The smokey gas disappeared gradually, my vision was clear. I was sure of what I was seeing.

In these moments, you’d think you’d scream. You’d think you’d fall to the floor, start bawling on your knees. But I couldn’t. All I did was stare. I stood on shaky legs, my knees about to give out. I was a ‘big boy’ at the age of 19, and I couldn’t even stand properly. My eyes widened.

On a velvet cushion inside the refrigerator, there laid my dead grandfather, frozen.

#horror #thriller

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