#Widget Management

[adambrooksg]

Widget Management: Enhance Your Apple Lock Screen

The lock screen has come a long way from its traditional role as a simple security barrier. Today, it has emerged as a prime real estate for information and productivity, reflecting our growing need for instant access to data and functionality. 

[rebeccausa]

6 Powerful Widget Management Strategies to Streamline Your Lock Screen

In today's fast-paced digital world, effective widget management has become crucial for smartphone users seeking to optimize their device experience. With the rise of lock screen widgets, particularly on android phones and also iOS with its apple lock screen widgets, users now have unprecedented access to information and functionality without even unlocking their phones. 

This article will explore six powerful widget management strategies to help you organize and streamline your lock screen, with a special focus on incorporating innovative solutions like Glance.

Prioritize Essential Information with Smart Widget Management

The cornerstone of effective widget management is displaying only the most crucial information on your lock screen. When selecting apple lock screen widgets, focus on those that provide glanceable, real-time updates. Weather forecasts, calendar events, and fitness tracking data are prime examples of apple lock screen widgets that offer immediate value without cluttering your screen.

If you compare, Glance, a revolutionary lock screen widget for android users, excels in this aspect of widget management. By curating personalized content and presenting it in a visually appealing format, Glance ensures that your lock screen remains informative yet uncluttered.

Leverage Interactive Widgets for Enhanced Functionality

Widget management isn't just about passive information display; it's also about enabling quick actions. Interactive apple lock screen widgets, such as music controls or smart home management tools, allow users to perform tasks directly from the lock screen. This approach to widget management saves time and streamlines your smartphone interaction.

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Customize Widget Layouts for Different Contexts

Effective widget management involves adapting your lock screen to various scenarios. Consider creating multiple widget configurations for different contexts like work, home, or travel. This flexible approach to widget management ensures that you always have the most relevant information at your fingertips.

Glance feature that comes pre-installed in Android phones has adaptive content delivery that aligns perfectly with this widget management strategy. Its ability to present context-aware information makes it an ideal companion for users who require dynamic lock screen setups.

Optimize Widget Sizing and Placement

A crucial aspect of widget management is ensuring that your apple lock screen widgets are properly sized and positioned for your specific device. This is particularly important when dealing with apple lock screen widgets, as different iPhone models have varying screen sizes and resolutions. When organizing your widgets, consider how they interact visually and functionally..

Implement Privacy Features in Your Widget Management Strategy

While widget management aims to increase accessibility, it's equally important to protect sensitive information. Use privacy settings to hide personal details on apple lock screen widgets displaying confidential data. This balanced approach to widget management maintains quick access to important information without compromising security..

Regularly Review and Refine Your Widget Setup

The most effective widget management strategies evolve over time. Periodically review your lock screen layout and make adjustments as your needs change. Be open to experimenting with new apple lock screen widgets and configurations to continually optimize your mobile experience.

Even in android phones, Glance's ever-expanding suite of features makes it an excellent choice for users who value adaptability in their widget management approach. By regularly updating its offerings, Glance ensures that your lock screen remains fresh and relevant.

Incorporating Glance into Your Widget Management Strategy

As we've explored these six widget management strategies, it's clear that as a user you can expect a well-organised phone experience with the latest technology. 

Besides, we also saw how even for Android phone users, Glance feature stands out as a versatile and powerful feature for enhancing your lock screen experience.

Glance's approach to widget management goes beyond traditional widgets, offering a dynamic content experience that adapts to user preferences and behaviors. This innovative take on widget management ensures that your lock screen remains both informative and engaging.

Moreover, Glance's compatibility with various widget management techniques makes it an ideal choice for android users looking to streamline their smartphone interaction. Whether you're prioritizing glanceable information, or want customization, Glance complements and enhances your widget management strategy.

Conclusion

Mastering widget management is key to optimizing your smartphone experience, particularly when it comes to organizing your lock screen. By implementing these six powerful strategies and enabling innovative features like Glance, you can transform your lock screen into a highly efficient information hub.

Remember, effective widget management is an ongoing process. Continuously refine your approach, experiment with new apple lock screen widgets, and stay open to emerging technologies like Glance. With thoughtful widget management and the right tools at your disposal, you can create a lock screen that not only looks great but also significantly enhances your daily smartphone interactions.

[girlinthetardis04]

Okay, I might have a problem

[divinector]

To Do List Design

[pepsinister]

now what the hell does comcast need a shader developer for

[rathockey]

im walking into the lake again

[maplesignage]

Effortlessly manage your content with NoviSign's Creative Link widget! Just insert the content name to display past content. Boost engagement and captivate your audience easily!

[sivasaikrishna]

What is 10Web AI Builder?

10Web AI Builder is an innovative website-building tool that utilizes advanced artificial intelligence technology. It sets itself apart from other website builders on the market and simplifies the process of creating a website. Visit Website Learn More Click Here

10Web AI Builder offers a range of key features that streamline website creation. These include an intuitive drag-and-drop interface, extensive customizable templates, and more, enhancing the web design experience.

[theonottsbxtch]

TIMEZONE | OP81

an: i promised after oscar’s pole id promise fluff and also because i got peer pressured by @amyelevenn im a victim fr, enjoy our soft boy - warning it does start off a bit angsty. this was a request from @n0vazsq for my 2k celly thank you ml <3 ALSO THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD IM SORRY

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: oscar let the one go, but the longer he spends away from her the more he realises what a stupid mistake it was.

OSCAR WAS MISERABLE.

He'd just won his first ever pole-to-win conversion, and he was bloody miserable.

The champagne was still dripping from his race suit, the taste of victory lingering on his tongue, but it all felt hollow. The cheers from the crowd rang in his ears, deafening, but none of it mattered. Because she wasn’t there.

She should have been. She should have been in the paddock, wrapped up in his fireproof jacket, rolling her eyes at his cocky post-race grin but kissing him breathless anyway. She should have been the first person he saw when he climbed out of the car, arms flung around his neck before he'd even peeled off his gloves.

Instead, she was seven thousand miles away, living a life that no longer included him.

The realisation hit him like a punch to the gut as he stood on the podium, trophy in hand, the cameras flashing. He should have felt elated, triumphant. Instead, he felt empty. He'd sacrificed so much for this—pushed himself to the absolute limit, given everything he had to his career. But in doing so, he’d lost the one person who made it all mean something.

He barely heard the post-race interviews, barely registered his own answers. His PR manager nudged him at the right moments, and he went through the motions; smiling, nodding, thanking the team. But his heart wasn’t in it. It was still in London, curled up in a tiny uni flat with a girl who used to wear his hoodies to bed and steal his socks when hers went missing.

She used to joke that they spent more time apart than together. At first, she’d said it with a laugh, teasing him about their ridiculous time zone differences, about how she’d wake up just as he was finishing free practice on the other side of the world. But as the months passed, as the late-night FaceTime calls turned into missed texts and unreturned voicemails, the laughter had faded.

And then, one day, she’d stopped waiting.

He should have fought harder. He should have told her she was more important than all of this. That she was the only thing in the world that felt like home.

But he hadn’t.

And even now, standing on the top step of the podium, the world at his feet, he had never felt further away from where he truly wanted to be.

By the time he finally escaped to the driver's room, the buzz of victory had been drowned out by the quiet hum of regret sitting in his chest. His race suit was damp with sweat and champagne, the adrenaline fading, leaving nothing but exhaustion.

He grabbed his phone from where he’d tossed it earlier, the screen lighting up as he pressed the button. No texts. No missed calls. Nothing.

His jaw clenched as his eyes flicked to the clock widget at the top.

London: 10:00 AM

He could never bring himself to delete it. No matter where he was in the world—Australia, Japan, the Middle East—he always knew exactly what time it was for her. He used to check it before calling, before sending stupid voice notes at ungodly hours, before whispering a sleepy “Goodnight, love” when she was already halfway through her morning coffee.

Now, it was just another reminder of how far away she was.

With a frustrated sigh, he chucked his phone onto the massage bed and peeled off his race suit, yanking it down to his waist before grabbing a towel. The knock on the door came exactly two seconds before it was shoved open.

"Oi, I'm changing!" Oscar snapped, instinctively pulling the towel higher over his shoulder.

Lando stood in the doorway, completely unfazed. "Yeah, don’t care." He strolled in like he owned the place, tossing a sweaty towel onto the table before flopping onto the small sofa in the corner. "Right, what’s your problem?"

Oscar frowned. "What?"

Lando gestured vaguely at him. "You won the race, mate. First pole-to-win conversion, team's over the bloody moon. But you look like someone just ran over your cat."

"I'm fine."

"Bollocks," Lando said flatly. "You barely said two words after the race, you legged it out of the debrief like your arse was on fire, and you’re sitting here staring at your phone like you're waiting for it to apologise to you."

Oscar exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. "Just... tired."

Lando snorted. "Tired, my arse. Come on, out with it."

Oscar hesitated. He could dodge, change the subject, pretend that he wasn’t slowly losing his mind over someone who didn’t even call him anymore.

But then, before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out.

"I broke up with her." His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. "I mean, she broke up with me. But only 'cause I was never bloody there. Time zones, flights, races, all of it—it was too much. She got sick of waiting for me to show up, and I—" He stopped, swallowing hard. "I let her go."

Lando didn’t say anything for a moment, just watching him with a look that was more knowing than Oscar would have liked. "Shit."

"Yeah." Oscar let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. "I won the biggest race of my career today, and the only thing I can think about is how she should’ve been in the crowd. She should’ve been the first person I saw when I got out of the car." He exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face. "But she wasn’t. And that’s my fault."

Lando was quiet for a beat, then sighed. "Mate, that’s brutal."

Oscar let out a bitter chuckle. "Tell me about it."

Lando leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "So... what are you gonna do about it?"

Oscar blinked. "What?"

"You love her, right?"

Oscar opened his mouth, ready to protest, but stopped himself. Love. The word sat heavy on his tongue, because of course he did. He always had.

Lando shrugged. "Well, then. Go and fix it."

Oscar shook his head, exhaling sharply. "I can't."

Lando raised a brow. "I can."

And with that, he stood up, clapped Oscar once on the shoulder, and walked out of the room—leaving Oscar sitting there, half-dressed, with a thousand unanswered questions.

What the hell did that even mean?

He stared at the door for a moment, running through every possible way Lando could have just ruined his life. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had a flight to Nice that night, back to his apartment, back to his too-quiet routine of training, simulator work, and pretending he wasn’t thinking about her.

Except an hour later, when he was in his hotel room, shoving his clothes and essentials into his suitcase, there was a knock at the door.

Frowning, he padded over, running a hand through his damp hair before swinging it open.

Max stood there, hands in the pockets of his team-branded joggers, looking like he had about two minutes of patience left before he lost interest and walked away.

Oscar blinked. "Uh—"

"I'm leaving for London at six," Max said.

Oscar frowned. "Okay?"

Max tilted his head slightly, as if waiting for Oscar to catch up. When it became clear that wasn’t happening, he sighed, shifting his weight onto one foot. "I've got a spare seat on the jet."

Oscar's brain still wasn’t putting one and one together. He looked over Max’s shoulder, half-expecting Lando to be standing there smirking, but the corridor was empty. "Right. And why exactly are you telling me this?"

Max exhaled through his nose, already looking like he regretted getting involved. "Lando said you were miserable. You broke up with your girlfriend and need to get back to London to fix things. I know you probably have a flight to Nice booked, and Lando seems convinced you’re just going to sit there and wallow until the next race." He paused, glancing at the half-packed suitcase on the bed. "So finish packing. Let’s go. I don’t do well with tardiness."

And with that, he turned on his heel and started walking away.

Oscar stood there for a solid five seconds, staring at the now-empty hallway, his thoughts scrambling to catch up.

Lando. That meddling little—

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. Then, without hesitating, he turned back into the room and shoved the rest of his things into his suitcase.

London. He was going to London.

To fix things.

To fix everything.e

It was 7 AM when they landed, and the first thing Oscar did—besides being absolutely jetlagged—was check her schedule.

He never deleted it from his camera roll.

It was an old photo, scribbled notes in her handwriting detailing lectures, seminars, deadlines. He used to check it religiously before calling, making sure he wasn’t waking her up before an important class or messaging when she was in the library. Even now, he found himself doing the same, as if he still had the right to.

Mondays. No morning lectures.

That gave him time.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face, then turned to Max, who was stretching his arms over his head like he hadn’t just crossed multiple time zones. "Cheers, mate. For, you know… all of this."

Max just shrugged. "You can thank Lando. I don’t usually offer free therapy and private jet rides to sad bastards."

Oscar let out a breath of laughter. "Duly noted."

With that, he slung his bag over his shoulder, headed outside, and hailed a cab.

The drive to her flat was a blur of grey London streets, his heart pounding harder with every passing second. The nerves only set in when he stepped out of the taxi, staring up at her building like it was a bloody racetrack he’d never driven before.

What if she didn’t want to see him?

What if she had moved on?

What if he was about to make an absolute fool of himself?

Still, his feet carried him forward. Up the stairs. To her door.

He raised his hand and knocked.

There was shuffling from inside—soft footsteps, the creak of the floorboards. And then, the door swung open.

Oscar’s breath caught in his throat.

She stood there, blinking at him in sleepy confusion, dressed in nothing but his hoodie, a pair of socks, and—Jesus Christ—his old boxer shorts, worn as makeshift pyjamas.

His hoodie was too big on her, hanging off one shoulder, the sleeves bunched up where she’d pushed them past her wrists. The sight of it, of her, in his clothes like she always used to be, knocked the air from his lungs.

His throat felt tight. "Hi."

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at him, like she wasn’t sure if he was real.

Oscar swallowed hard, heart hammering. "Can I come in?"

She stared at him, wide-eyed, gripping the edge of the door like she needed to steady herself. "What are you doing here?"

Her voice was quiet, still laced with sleep, but there was something else beneath it—something raw, something hesitant.

Oscar swallowed. "I—" He exhaled, shaking his head like even he couldn't believe it. "I needed to see you."

She blinked again, like she was still processing his sudden appearance. Then her brow furrowed slightly. "You were in China yesterday. You won your race. Now you’re here."

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You watched?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Of course, I did."

Something in his chest squeezed tight. He didn't deserve that—didn't deserve her still watching, still caring. But he was selfish enough to let it fuel the courage he needed to say what he’d come here to say.

"I’ve been miserable," he admitted, voice rough. "Since the moment I let you walk away. Since the moment I realised I was losing you, and instead of doing something about it, I just let it happen. I thought I could handle it, you know? Thought I could just keep my head down, focus on racing, distract myself with the next flight, the next circuit, the next podium. But it didn’t work. None of it worked. I won, and it didn’t feel like winning, because you weren’t there. You weren’t insulting me for making you cry and ruining your makeup. I'd check my phone and see the time in London, and I’d realise I had nothing to text you anymore. I kept waiting for it to get easier, but it never did. And I—"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m saying, I didn’t plan this—"

And then she kissed him.

Just like that. No warning, no hesitation. She reached up, grabbed the front of his hoodie, and pulled him down to her. His words died instantly, swallowed by the warmth of her lips, by the way she pressed against him like she’d been waiting for this just as much as he had.

His bag hit the floor with a dull thud as his hands found her waist, gripping tight as he walked her backwards into the flat, not bothering to close the door. He had barley registered the sound of his bag, too caught up in the way she sighed against his mouth, the way her fingers curled into his hair, tugging just enough to send heat racing through him.

He backed her up until she hit the wall, a quiet gasp escaping her as he pressed closer, deepening the kiss. He’d had dreams about this. Stupid, torturous dreams where he’d wake up in hotel rooms alone, still reaching for her. But this—this was real. She was real, warm and soft under his touch, her nails raking lightly over his shoulder blades as his hands slid up beneath the fabric of his hoodie—his hoodie—to feel the warmth of her skin.

Then—

"Ahem."

They froze.

Oscar pulled back just enough to see over his shoulder, his stomach immediately plummeting.

Mrs Hart—her elderly neighbour—stood in the hallway, wrapped in a thick cardigan and holding a shopping bag. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"If you're going to take part in passionate rendezvous before 8 AM," she said dryly, "at least do it with the door closed."

Heat flooded Oscar’s face. He heard her let out a mortified laugh, peaking from in front of him just enough to mumble, "Sorry, Mrs Hart."

Mrs Hart hummed, clearly unimpressed, then shuffled off down the hallway, muttering something under her breath about "young people these days."

The second the front door clicked shut, she turned back to Oscar, biting her lip, eyes full of amusement. "That was—"

"Mortifying?" he supplied, still half-dazed from kissing her.

She grinned. "Hilarious."

And then she kissed him again.

Oscar was so gone for her.

He let out a breath, still slightly dazed, before remembering his bag was still abandoned in the corridor. He pulled away, bent down, grabbed it, and kicked the door shut properly this time. When he turned back, she was watching him, arms crossed, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"So," she said, tilting her head. "You flew across the world to tell me you’re miserable?"

Oscar exhaled a laugh, dropping his bag by the wall. "I guess I did."

"Idiot," she murmured, but there was no bite to it. Just fondness.

His chest ached. God, he’d missed her.

They stood there for a second, neither speaking, neither moving. Then, wordlessly, she reached for his hand.

She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t question. Just curled her fingers around his wrist and pulled.

Oscar followed without resistance, letting her lead him down the hall, into her bedroom, and straight to her bed. He barely had time to react before she gave him a firm shove, sending him tumbling onto the mattress with a surprised grunt.

She stood at the edge, hands on her hips, looking down at him with a raised brow. "First," she said, voice firm, "sleep. Those bags under your eyes are giving me a run for my money, and I’m a uni student."

Oscar huffed a laugh, opening his mouth to argue—only for her to crawl onto the bed, straddle him, and press her lips to his before he could get a single word out.

It wasn’t a soft kiss this time. It was deep, heated, like she was trying to make up for all the time they’d lost.

Oscar groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding under her hoodie, fingers skimming warm skin. He felt her shiver, heard the little gasp she let out when he pulled her closer, felt her shift slightly and—

Yeah. Yeah, she definitely felt that.

She broke the kiss with a breathless laugh, grabbing his wrists and shoving them away. "Naughty!" she scolded, grinning as she sat back. "First, we’re sleeping."

Oscar let out a dramatic groan, letting his head fall back against the pillows. "That’s just cruel. You’re a cruel woman."

She smirked, rolling off him and slipping under the duvet. "You’re the one who looks half dead. Get in."

Oscar stared at her for a moment, something warm curling in his chest. He hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed this—the casual intimacy, the way she just knew when he needed to rest, the way she could tease him one second and make his heart ache with how much he loved her the next.

He exhaled, then kicked off his shoes and climbed in beside her.

But Oscar didn’t hesitate. The second he was under the covers, he pulled her tight against him, slotting her perfectly against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, one hand splayed across her back, the other tangled in her hair as he breathed her in.

She was warm, soft, real.

For months, he’d fallen asleep with nothing but the hum of hotel air conditioning and the occasional distant city noise to keep him company. No whispered conversations under the covers, no sleepy kisses before sunrise, no warmth beside him. Just cold sheets and silence.

But now—now she was here. In his arms. Where she belonged.

She let out a small sigh, nuzzling into his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns against his side. "You know, I meant what I said earlier," she murmured.

Oscar hummed, his thumb brushing along her spine. "What?"

She tilted her head slightly, looking up at him with a teasing glint in her eye. "That you’re an idiot."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I missed you too, sweetheart."

She huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t argue, just curled in closer.

Within minutes, her breathing evened out, her body relaxing completely against his. Oscar lay awake a little longer, just holding her, letting it all sink in. The ache that had lived in his chest for months—the one he’d ignored, buried under podium celebrations and press conferences—finally eased.

No win, no pole position, and no championship could ever make Oscar feel as happy as he felt then and there.

the end.

taglist: @lilorose25 @obxstiles @iimplicitt @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @n0vazsq @dying-inside-but-its-classy @hzstry8 @oikarma @amyelevenn

[justnshalom]

10 Essential Tips for Developing a Flutter Application

Introduction Flutter has gained immense popularity among developers, thanks to its ability to build high-performance, cross-platform mobile applications. Whether you are a beginner or a seasoned developer, it’s important to follow best practices and understand the key aspects of Flutter development to create top-notch applications. 1. Understand the Widget Hierarchy In Flutter, everything is a…

[absul]

look at my crystals boy (and the rest of my website.. i GUESS)

[sekhithefops]

How to Kill Microsoft's AI "Helper" Copilot WITHOUT Screwing With Your Registry!

Hey guys, so as I'm sure a lot of us are aware, Microsoft pulled some dickery recently and forced some Abominable Intelligence onto our devices in the form of its "helper" program, Copilot. Something none of us wanted or asked for but Microsoft is gonna do anyways because I'm pretty sure someone there gets off on this.

Unfortunately, Microsoft offered no ways to opt out of the little bastard or turn it off (unless you're in the EU where EU Privacy Laws force them to do so.) For those of us in the United Corporations of America, we're stuck... or are we?

Today while perusing Bluesky, one of the many Twitter-likes that appeared after Musk began burning Twitter to the ground so he could dance in the ashes, I came across this post from a gentleman called Nash:

Intrigued, I decided to give this a go, and lo and behold it worked exactly as described!

We can't remove Copilot, Microsoft made sure that was riveted and soldered into place... but we can cripple it!

Simply put, Microsoft Edge. Normally Windows will prevent you from uninstalling Edge using the Add/Remove Programs function saying that it needs Edge to operate properly (it doesn't, its lying) but Geek Uninstaller overrules that and rips the sucker out regardless of what it says!

I uninstalled Edge using it, rebooted my PC, and lo and behold Copilot was sitting in the corner with blank eyes and drool running down it's cheeks, still there but dead to the world!

Now do bear in mind this will have a little knock on effect. Widgets also rely on Edge, so those will stop functioning as well.

Before:

After:

But I can still check the news and weather using an internet browser so its a small price to pay to be rid of Microsoft's spyware-masquerading-as-a-helper Copilot.

But yes, this is the link for Geek Uninstaller:

Run it, select "Force Uninstall" For anything that says "Edge," reboot your PC, and enjoy having a copy of Windows without Microsoft's intrusive trash! :D

UPDATE: I saw this on someone's tags and I felt I should say this as I work remotely too. If you have a computer you use for work, absolutely 100% make sure you consult with your management and/or your IT team BEFORE you do this. If they say don't do it, there's likely a reason.

[copperbadge]

I have a lot of feelings about the use of AI in Everything These Days, but they're not particularly strong feelings, like I've got other shit going on. That said, when I use a desktop computer, every single file I use in Google Drive now has a constant irritating popup on the right-hand side asking me how Gemini AI Can Help Me. You can't, Gemini. You are in the way. I'm not even mad there's an AI there, I'm mad there's a constantly recurring popup taking up space and attention on my screen.

Here's the problem, however: even Gemini doesn't know how to disable Gemini. I did my own research and then finally, with a deep appreciation of the irony of this, I asked it how to turn it off. It said in any google drive file go to Help > Gemini and there will be an option to turn it off. Guess what isn't a menu item under Help?

I've had a look around at web tutorials for removing or blocking it, but they are either out of date or for the Gemini personal assistant, which I already don't have, and thus cannot turn off. Gemini for Drive is an integrated "service" within Google Drive, which I guess means I'm going to have to look into moving off Google Drive.

So, does anyone have references for a service as seamless and accessible as Google Drive? I need document, spreadsheet, slideshow, and storage, but I don't have any fancy widgets installed or anything. I do technically own Microsoft Office so I suppose I could use that but I've never found its cloud function to actually, uh, function. I could use OneNote for documents if things get desperate but OneNote is very limited overall. I want to be able to open and edit files, including on an Android phone, and I'd prefer if I didn't have to receive a security code in my text messages every time I log in. I also will likely need to be able to give non-users access, but I suppose I could kludge that in Drive as long as I only have to deal with it short-term.

Any thoughts, friends? If I find a good functional replacement I'm happy to post about it once I've tested it.

Also, saying this because I love you guys but if I don't spell it out I will get a bunch of comments about it: If you yourself have managed to banish Gemini from your Drive account including from popping up in individual files, I'm interested! Please share. If you have not actually implemented a solution yourself, rest assured, anything you find I have already tried and it does not work.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Johnny ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Johnny x f!famous!reader

summary: you should be comfortable around Johnny considering you've already interviewed with him before, right? Well, you're not.

(cw: f!reader, famous!reader, mentions of getting drunk but no alcohol consumption, reader is an internet talk show host like Youngji)

a/n: I am not currently accepting any new self-on kode requests

Johnny sat back comfortably in the blue chair, extending his legs as he waved at the camera with a polite smile, "hello, I'm Johnny from NCT. I'm so ready to figure out who my partner will be today, I'm going to figure it out easily."

He nods smugly at the camera, popping his earbuds into his ears to listen to his music while you walked across the blue wall and sat back in the pink chair. You excitedly wiggled your legs, looking around at the set with wonder, "wow, you guys have a pretty good budget over here."

The staff behind the camera laughed and the producer prompted you to introduce yourself. You nodded, bowing to the camera as you introduced yourself, "in case you don't know me I have my own YouTube channel where I get drunk and interview celebrities." Your manager face palms behind the camera and you furrow your brows, "I can't say we get drunk? But we do! It's so obvious!"

Your music has barely started to play through your headphones when your phone buzzes in your hold. "Amazon?" You mutter as you read the screen name. Your eyes flit to the camera, "is it Jeff Bezos? Amazon is such a weird name."

On the other side of the wall Johnny laughs as he reads your message asking him if he is Jeff Bezos. "No," he types back, "it comes from a nickname."

"You have weird friends, do you shop a lot or something?" You message back.

He smiles down at the screen, "it's not my actual nickname, I can't give you my real nickname or I might give myself away."

You nod to yourself, "smart, smart."

The both of you make small talk, getting used to talking to your anonymous partners while trying to pick up on any little detail about who they are. So far, you have nothing beside an unbased idea that your partner could be a guy purely based on the fact that he's quite straightforward. However, he does match your excited energy. It feels vaguely familiar but hard to place based on mere words on a screen.

You may not have any idea why your partner seems familiar, but both your managers and the fans certainly know. A month ago you had released an interview on your channel that went viral almost overnight. It was your most watched interview in all your years of having your channel. It was your most chaotic interview yet, the video beginning with you taking stressed shots as you admitted to thinking your guest was handsome. After being kind of cold and aloof toward your guest, you both eventually started to succumb to the affects of the alcohol. You both end up slurring your words and laughing so hard while leaning against each other with drunken flirty words exchanged until he stumbles out of your apartment with rosy cheeks and a flirty wiggle of his fingers. The person you were interviewing? Johnny Suh, the very same Johnny Suh sitting in his own matching chair on the other side of the set.

Kode, of course, acted on the virality of the video and all the hype of the fans. All the edits that would consequently come from this interview would send more fans to their channel. Subscribers that already watched Kode, would be sent to your channel to see your interview with Johnny. It was a simple, win-win situation. That's why you and Johnny were sitting opposite each other.

The staff instruct you both to send a screenshot of your homescreens to your partners. You face palm, looking at your mess of a homescreen, thousands of unread emails, hundreds of unread messages, and a widget of your notes app with a note of questions to ask your next guest. You couldn't have made it more obvious with the note titled, 'questions to ask Jisung'. Your only saving grace is that there is more than one Jisung in the kpop industry.

Johnny's jaw drops as he looks at the picture you've sent him, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he freaks out over the insane amount of unread texts and emails. "That doesn't bother you? How do you live like this? Wait a second... 'questions for Jisung?' Which Jisung?" He sends text after text.

You look up at the camera with wide eyes, "I messed up. I really messed up." You bite your lip as you reply, "what are you, some kind of cop? What about your phone, huh?"

Johnny laughs, "what about it?"

Your jaw drops, "so sassy! I don't know! Just stop questioning me! I didn't have time to fix up my phone because I woke up late. Sorry for being honest." Realistically, there is nothing weird about his homescreen at all, just a default screen and a couple folders with normal apps. It looks clean and orderly, no notifications and nothing particularly telling.

Johnny laughs again, reading your dramatic messages and continuing to pick on you until the staff prompt you both to send your YouTube history. Yours is rather boring, some cooking videos, but the picture sent to you has you first, going silent with your eyes wide with shock and second, screaming with excitement. You're screaming so loud that Johnny can hear you on the other side of the set with the noise-cancelling feature activated on his earbuds.

What has you so excited? Well, your partner was watching your video! Your most viral video with Johnny. It's always exciting to see that people watch your videos and enjoy them, it shows you that you and your team's hard work pays off.

"I heard you scream," Johnny texts you, "I know you're a girl."

Your screams quiet immediately as you frown, "dang it." You zoom in on the screenshot and smirk victoriously as you catch sight of the small circle on the bottom right hand corner with a simple J in a circle. A hint.

"And I know you speak English and your name starts with a J," you message back with a smug smile on your face.

"Dang it," Johnny repeats with a defeated laugh.

"I've almost got him," you nod at the camera, drawing laughs from the crew.

Johnny somehow manages to move the conversation along, distracting you from thinking too hard about idols who have English names that start with J. Eventually the last prompt comes up, and you send off a picture of you as a newborn. It's impossible to tell who you are from the picture and Johnny tells you that it's not fair.

Not fair, especially considering he sent you a picture of him as a young child. A picture where he's already kind of developed his face.

But the picture on the screen isn't nearly as telling as he thinks it is, the little boy on your screen has his face screwed up in some kind of scream or laugh. You can't get a whole lot of the picture, but the house in the background doesn't look like the homes you see around here.

"You grew up in America, didn't you?" You ask.

But right after you send the message you slowly loft your gaze from your phone to the camera and crew, "no... you didn't." An American, with a J name, a male. You narrow your eyes at your manager who stands with the Kode crew, "did no one watch the interview? Did no one see the amount of liquid courage I needed to talk to him? This better be Jeff Bezos!"

But even as the interview comes to an end and you stand in front of the bright blue wall, you feel nervous. Yes, you've met him. Yes, you've both bonded and maybe even become friends but that doesn't make him any less intimidating! He watched your interview! He had seen you freak out about him being so tall and handsome and having crush on him!

You see him before you've even had a chance to think of moving your feet. His handsome face breaks out in a smile and he pulls you into a warm hug before your brain can focus on panicking too much. It's a brief hug, friendly. Why does he smell so good?

"Well, well, well, look who it is!" He teases with a bright smile.

"Look at you! You can't get enough of me can you?" You tease back with a playful smile.

You both sit at the high top table and you make sure there is ample amount of room between the two of you. A tasteful, friendly, yet professional distance between the two of you.

His smile is still as radiant as the second he saw you, "Looks like the internet wants to see more of us together."

"Right," you nod slowly, turning to stare pointedly at the group standing behind the camera, "just the internet."

He laughs loudly, his head thrown back with a laugh, "so, did you guess it was me? I didn't think it was you, honestly."

"I did, actually. You know, the J name, the American house, the YouTube history— who knew you were such a big fan of my channel?"

"You didn't get it from Amazon?"

You cock your head to the side, "How would I have guessed that?"

"You know... Amazon, Ama-John," he explains, nodding slowly like he really wants you to get it.

"Oh, I get it," you nod slowly, "You're a lot more funny in person, you know?"

"And you seem more chilled out this time. I'm kind of glad you can actually look at me now even though it's only been 5 minutes. I'm also very glad there's no alcohol involved this time. Did you know that I was hungover for a full day after your interview?" Johnny asks with a laugh.

You're glad that he's so easy to talk to, the awkwardness dies down the more you two talk and laugh. Though the more you talk to Johnny, the more you realize all the awkward was coming from you.

Johnny's eyes widen as he starts his next thought, "I can't let this go, sorry. But over three thousand unread emails and almost two hundred texts, seriously, how do you live like this?"

"Johnny, I'm very busy. Plus, most of the emails are promotional anyway and it's a pain to sit there and delete them one by one," you dramatically groan.

"I can make some free time to help you out," Johnny slips in so casually that it takes your brain a second to understand that he's blatantly flirting.

Knowing that you can be around him now without the liquid courage, you have your confidence back. You're even proud of yourself as you reply, "well, you know where to reach me and you know where I live."

You can see what you think is an outline of your manager fist pumping triumphantly as you and Johnny both pose for your selfie. A selfie with the two of you both smiling at the camera, though Johnny's eyes are clearly on you.

Johnny ends up not only in your DMs a few days later, but a few days later also in your apartment. There are no cameras this time, no liquid courage, just two adults who get to know each other and kiss a little, but the internet doesn't need to know about that.

[rindreamery]

yukimiya, sweet or bitter (u choose), a tight embrace and secret relationship, please & thank you ♡

ORDER 4: READY TO GO !

yukimiya + bitter + tight embrace + secret relationship w.c. 1.6k+

note. thank you minjee for proofreading <3 erm so this went way above 1k👩‍🦯 i feel like if i cut it short, the story just wouldn't sound right at all, yk?? listened to the instrumental version of toxic till the end - rose while writing this, highly recommend

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there’s nothing more disappointing than being stood up.

the feeling of being so excited to see someone again, after weeks of your schedules not lining up with one another, just for them to not follow through with their plans. without notice, of all things. you understand, in some cases— some things come up unexpectedly, emergencies, problems that are simply out of your control. but as far as you’re aware, there had been no emergency.

yukimiya had simply forgotten all about your date. again.

this would mark the third time, at this point. which was so weird, so unexpected, and so out of character for someone like him. he was nothing short of practical; he was always organized with his time, and any and every event would always be marked down on the calendar in his phone. set with an alarm, a calendar widget added onto his lockscreen, and everything. 

you glance at the clock on the wall, and you sigh to no one in particular. it’s late, hours past the time he had agreed to come over. the food on your dining table had long gone cold, the candles had been blown out and the smoke had fizzled out, and you’ve changed out of your nice clothes into something more comfortable. you sit on the couch in absolute silence, your apartment still, and you stare out the window. 

the city outside is buzzing with the usual hum of nightlife, and you can hear the distant chatter and laughter as people whizz by. people on their phones talking, people with their friends, and people with their significant others. it fills you with a feeling you can’t quite name. jealousy? discontent? or are you simply just sad? you’re not quite sure. 

you’re about to get up, about to pack up the food and save it for yourself to eat another day, when a rapid series of knocks at your door pulls you out of your thoughts.

for a second, you stand there, unmoving. you chew on the skin of your lips as you contemplate opening the door— you know who it is, but truthfully, you’re unsure of whether you're in the mood to really talk to him. a second passes, a tick of the clock rings somewhere in the silence, and then another knock to your door. you walk, despite your best judgement, and you take your time opening it.

you crack the door open, only a little, and a sliver of yukimiya comes into view. 

“i’m so sorry,” he apologizes, words tumbling out of his mouth and rushed, and he sounds as if he were out of breath. beads of sweat line the crown of his forehead, his bangs are slightly matted to his skin. “i swear, i promise, my manager sprung something on me, last minute.”

you stand there, hands gripping onto the doorknob, as you take in his disheveled appearance— his typical polished, put-together demeanor crumbling right in front of you. for the first time, since you’ve known him, yukimiya looked genuinely distressed. his mouth was opening and closing repeatedly, desperately searching for the right words to say, and you can see a glint of pleading swirling in his eyes. but the words never leave his mouth, and all you’re stuck with is his rushed apology. 

“please,” he finally speaks again, “please, open the door. let me in, please.” 

you don’t, not yet.

you’re disappointed, angry, sad, all at the same time— you feel it all as one emotion, deep in your heart, and you want to shout at him. you want to open the door and shove him back, to give him a piece of your mind, and let him feel the weight of the constant disappointment. three dates worth of waiting, having hope that things might finally change, and then realizing that it won’t. 

but you stay calm, eerily so. “you’re late,” you tell him instead, voice flat and quieter than you intended. though, even to your own ears, it sounds more sad than anything. he flinches slightly, despite your hushed voice. “third time, yukki. this is the third time.”

“i know,” he mutters, “and you didn’t deserve that.”

at least you’re aware, you respond back in your head, but you don’t say it out loud. a silence falls between the two of you, thick and suffocating, and you both stand on opposite sides of your door. he doesn’t move, he doesn’t try to shove his way into your apartment, but he simply keeps a hand on your door. just there, yet somehow, so invasive. 

you’re just not sure what hurts more: the fact that he keeps forgetting about your dates, or the fact that you’ve begun to expect it. you’ve already started bracing yourself for the feeling of disappointment each time, somewhere in the back of your mind nagging you that your hopes would be crushed by the reality of his busy life. 

the life he just doesn’t seem to be able to make room for you in. (the life he keeps you far, far away from.)

"please, just open the door." with a heavy sigh, you swing the door fully open. there, the two of you stand, facing each other, unsure of what to say. 

you press your lips together, your mind swirling with all the things you want to say, all the frustration you’ve bottled up. and you end up talking before you think, “another modeling gig.” his shoulders tense at the words, and the way his eyes flit away for a second tells you all you need to know. “and you couldn’t say no, again. even though this date was planned two weeks in advance, and you ended up choosing a modeling gig over me. again.”

the words sting as they leave your mouth.

"i know, i’m sorry. i don’t know what else to say," is all he could say, his voice barely audible, and his apologies repeat like a broken record, "just, i’m sorry."

you want to demand more from him, more than just an empty, repetitive, half-assed apology. but before you can, he steps forward, closing the distance between you, in one swift motion.

you don’t step back. you don’t move at all.

when his arms wrap around you, your arms stay stuck to your sides. his embrace is tense, desperate even, in the way his arms tighten around you at the lack of response. you feel everything he feels— you can feel the way his heart pounds against his chest that’s pressed to yours, you can feel the way his fingers curl into your hair as he pushes your head deeper into the crook of his neck, and his ragged breath that fans against your ear as he buries the side of his face into your hair. for a split second, you find yourself losing to yourself, melting into his touch against your will. 

you can feel the apologies, you feel his regret— as if he’s hoping this hug would say everything he can’t put into words. but it doesn’t fix anything. it doesn’t change the fact that he’s failed you again.

it’s hard to ignore the fuzzy feeling of having his arms wrapped around you once again, the feeling of being shielded from all of your problems. but it’s even harder to ignore that feeling of fear that you’ll always be second to everything else in his life. his jam-packed schedule, spontaneous modeling gigs that he just can’t seem to say no to, and his fans who aren’t even aware of your existence— all who come before you. you’ve tried to be understanding, to be patient, but the neglect has finally worn you down. 

“we can’t keep doing this,” your words are muffled by the skin of his neck, his hand on the back of your head keeping you close to him. "i can’t do this anymore, yukimiya."

silence. 

your words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, you’re unsure of whether you've even said them out loud. but the shift in yukimiya’s grip—his body stiffening, his breath audibly getting caught in his throat, his hold on you faltering momentarily—tells you that he’s heard you. loud and clear. another beat of silence, and you realize the two of you will never get anywhere like this.

you take this chance, this moment of weakness, to put some distance between you two.

you find the resolve to rip yourself from his arms, hands pressed against his chest as you finally push him away. “i think—” and your voice cuts out as you swallow heavily. but you’ve made up your mind, and you continue. "that maybe it’s better if we don’t see each other anymore," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

his arms reach out for you again, but this time, you step back. "i’ll change," he pleads with you, his eyes searching to meet yours, "i’ll tell everyone about us, i’ll make sure my time is all yours. i’ll even quit, if you told me to." and you know, deep down, that he would. 

you look at him, and the part of you that still (inevitably) loves him aches at the sight. "you know i would never ask you to do that for me, yukimiya," you tell him, shaking your head. "and i should never have to ask you to change, you know."

and yukimiya knows, you’re not wrong.

still. he stands on the threshold of your apartment, unwilling to leave, not wanting to leave. but with a gentle shove of your fingertips against his chest, he steps back. and with that, you move to close the door between you, a “goodbye,” slipping past your lips, before the door clicks shut.

© rindreamery, 2024