#when i came to the netherlands i had a lot of these interactions and it took me longer than i'd like to admit

[yugocar]

hmm so i’ve been trying to put this into words for ages and i always fall short of it, but here i am trying again and it has to with this weird relationship i’ve had with really famous brands in the usa. growing up it was always disheartening when i would get really excited about trying subway for the first time or starbucks or anything like that, and then talking to people from the west about it only for them to be very dismissive and judgemental about it. it makes total sense really, and a lot of the times they were correct about their assessment of said brand/chain but there is something so particular about growing up not having access to any of the popular of famous things that were part of pop-culture on tv and on the internet. it leaves you feeling, or at least it did for me, so cut off from what feels like the entire world and in turn makes you feel so excited when you do interact with them, even though these images are obviously very idealised. when i first went to starbucks i was so giddy. “look im like the people on tv! look i have access to all these fancy and varied products!” it made me feel so visible, so fancy. i’ve grown now and obviously have a very different opinion of a lot of these brands, but i still don’t really have the heart to reprimand myself when i get excited about something like going to dunkin’ donuts. i’ve also learned not to talk to people who haven’t had this experience, to allow myself for that moment not to be spoiled. their context is completely different and that’s okay, i can keep this for myself.

[demilypyro]

Okay since this doesn't seem to want to go away here's me addressing every single "allegation" that I've heard about. I hope to have at least given a good explanation where the horrible things being said about me came from, and why I consider them either just totally not true or badly misconstrued. Some of my friends have recommended I don't say anything at all, but I've always preferred openness and honesty, so I hope that's appreciated.

I understand that some people will still dislike me even though the things being said about me are not true. That's fine. I don't need everyone to like me, but it's when I'm being consistently harassed and lied about that it interferes with my mental health and ability to work. So I'm gonna try and end things with this.

"She's racist"

From what I can tell this is about one time when I said I keep my interest in anime to myself around new people. I do this because showing you're a Huge Fucking Nerd right off the bat can make a bad impression. I could have said the same thing about Star Trek or comic books, I just happened to be talking about anime in that moment. Someone seems to have misconstrued this as me finding Japanese culture something shameful and lesser than other cultures?... Which I would call a total willful misinterpretation. The rest of this seems to stem just from being Dutch, because the Netherlands is a country that has a problem with xenophobia. This is true, but uhhh I'm mixed myself so I'm pretty well aware of that, and I obviously don't support our infamous "blackface holiday." Just because I live here doesn't mean I agree with everything this country does, be that historically or in the modern day.

"She's friends with racists/misogynists/transphobes"

The only thing I can guess this is about is when I was mutuals with a user called porko-rosso at least 5 years ago and didn't really believe it when people told me they were a bigot. I haven't interacted with this user in over 4 years but people still claim we're like best friends, which was never true in the first place, we just knew a lot of the same people. Most of the resentment from the people who repeatedly spread these rumours about me seems to have started here. So for the record: no, I am not friends with any racists, misogynists or transphobes.

"She thinks she's better than other trans women because she passes better"

This is just not true. This idea seems to pop up just whenever I post about enjoying the benefits of HRT or surgery, but most recently this was misconstrued from a post where I said being trans is about being yourself as much as possible. Since this was in response to someone saying that me trying to pass is "erasing my identity", people thought I meant trying to pass is the same as being good at being trans, which was not what I meant, but some people didn't seem to want to believe me when I clarified. My apologies for the misunderstanding I guess, but that's all it was. So no, I do not hate people who don't pass as well as I do, nor do I think all trans people should be transitioning medically, and I resent the implication.

"She has a secret discord server where she makes fun of pictures of other trans women and calls them slurs"

I had absolutely no clue what this was about when I first heard it. I was sent screenshots that supposedly prove this but all they show is me being rude about someone's appearance one time in january of 2022. I actually thought these were faked because I don't remember this happening and the things said confused me, but one of my friends says she found it was in her server, where she had showed a picture of someone and asked everyone present (mostly other trans women) if they were hot. Apparently I did not think they were hot. So yes, I did insult someone's appearance back in january 2022, but it was an isolated incident. Frankly even I find my remarks in these screenshots distasteful, I don't know what I was on when I wrote that stuff. I'm sorry to that person specifically. What I said has weighed heavily on me and I apologize for it. It's not something I approve of, and don't intend to repeat that mistake. Still, to say it means I hate trans women and I love to make fun of them in my secret discord server and call them slurs is just... a super-villain level of exaggeration. I didn't even know about the word that was named as an example. It's not true.

"She's often rude"

I can't deny this one. Autism gonna autism. I've seen many therapists, doctors, experts, what have you, to try and help me with this, but it seems my particular brand of autistic in combination with the cultural differences between mine and other countries just really often ends with my foot in my mouth when I speak English. I apologize! I have never meant to personally offend anyone. It just keeps happening and I can't stop it from happening.

If after reading all this, you still consider me bad enough to hate my guts, I can't stop you, but I wanted to have at least had my say. I swear that everything in this post is the honest truth as I understand it, and that I've never acted with purposeful malicious intent.

[harryyskiwii]

Summary: Harry gets overwhelmed by fans in Amsterdam and seeks comfort in you.

Pairing: Boyfriend Harry x reader

Word count: 1,403

A/N: This is my first one shot I’ve written so please let me know what you think!

Strolling through the streets of sunny Amsterdam together on a rare day off together, the heat of the June Summer beamed on your face as you and Harry walked through the beautiful city. You had never been to the Netherlands but you instantly fell in love with it; The Sundrenched canals, the plant-filled greenhouses and creative cafés had you in awe of the city.

As much as Harry loved interacting with the fans, hearing their stories of how his music helped him, some days the constant photographs, the being stopped in the street every 5 minutes and the requests from fans were a lot for him. Sure he was more than grateful for the life the fans had given him, but sometimes all he wanted to do was go on a walk for 30 minutes.

You knew something was bothering Harry. He had been fidgeting with his rings in the local coffee shop you were in and now as you were exploring through the streets, his strides were picking up pace with each step he took.

In the short 20 minutes you had been out for, Harry had been stopped on countless occasions from fans asking for photos. Usually he would say yes, but today he just wasn’t quite feeling up to it.

Hearing a voice as you walked past a row of boutiques, you turned your head to where it was coming from “Hi Harry, do you wanna take a picture?”

“Sorry?” Harry said, not catching what the person had said as he stopped to talk to them.

“Can we take a picture please?”

“Do you mind if we don’t actually?” “No, not at all. Nice meeting you Harry”

You smiled gently to the girl who seemed happy enough to even have talked to him but you could tell Harry was getting increasingly agitated. He was pleasant as always to every fan he came into contact with, but it was obvious this was weighing him down.

You squeezed his hand to let him know it was okay as you continued to walk down the street.

You must have only taken a dozen steps when you and Harry were stopped again by 2 girls.

“I wouldn’t go that way, it’s really busy” one said.

“Oh, this way?” He checked with the girls, who nodded in agreement.

“Yeah it’s really busy”

He about turned to avoid the situation, deeply appreciating the heads-up.

“Oh okay thank you”

“Have a good show Harry” one said.

“Thank you”

“You okay?” You asked quietly as you walked back in the direction you had just come. “Yeah, I think we should head back now”

“Yeah? Okay let’s go” you said, understanding Harry’s anxiousness right away.

“We can go down to the spa when we’re back if you like?” You suggested to him.

He lightly smiled at the thought “yeah sure”

You had only been walking for a few minutes when up in the distance, you saw what you thought were lines of people, creating almost like a small pathway to walk through.

“Harry!” you heard someone shout in the distance. As you looked back, the person started to run towards in your direction.

Panic spread on Harry’s face as he quickly tried to figure something out “Go round the other way, I’ll meet you at the hotel” He said quickly, as he started to run away from you.

“What?” You said, confused as to what was going on.

“Trust me, just go round the other way, it’s safer” Harry said and with that, he took off and began to run towards the crowd of people.

You thought now an odd time for a run, he was wearing his vans, the most unpractical shoe for running, but as he approached the people you knew exactly why he was running. Running away.

The girl who had shouted was now running past you, and towards Harry.

Your heart sank as you watched him run through the line of people, not stopping to converse with anyone. It was doubtful the girl would catch up with Harry but it was still scary to watch.

You turned and headed back towards the hotel and phoned Jeff immediately.

He thankfully picked up within a couple of rings. “Hey y/n”

“Jeff can you make sure security are at the hotel for when Harry comes back? He’s not far away, he’s being chased by someone he’s had to run he should only be a few minutes away”

“What? Where are you? What’s happened?” Jeff said, concern growing in his voice.

“It’s just really busy with fans, Harry’s fine, I think, but I don’t want the fans follow him back to the hotel”

“Let me get security now, are you okay though?”

“Yeah I’m fine, I’m walking the opposite way, I won’t be long”

“Okay, see you when you get back” Jeff said and hung up the phone.

Although it was only a 10 minute walk, a 5 minute run in Harry’s case, you texted him to see if he was okay.

“Smart move. Even smarter to not ask me to run with you. You okay?” You texted and sent it to him.

2 minutes later, he replied “Would of had to have called you an ambulance if you ran any longer than 30 seconds you lazy sod”

The sarcasm in his text was an indication he was alright, if he could make jokes out of you being so unfit, he was fine.

“Shut up. I called Jeff to make sure security are there for you. I won’t be long”

Once you arrived at the hotel, you were greeted by one of Harry’s security guards. You made your way up to your hotel room to find Harry, Jeff, Tommy and his head of security discussing recent events.

“I wanna be able to go out a walk myself without having you there, no offence Andy” you heard Harry say to his head of security.

He looked up when he saw you coming into the room.

“Y/n you’re back, you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, are you?” You asked Harry.

“We’re just saying about how it might be wise to think of having security with H at all times, just while the tour is ongoing” Tommy said and you hesitantly nodded.

Harry clearly thought otherwise by his lack of response.

“I get you want to go out and be normal, I do but when you’re having to literally run away, it gets serious” Jeff said and Harry sighed.

“I gotta look out for you mate, imagine anything happened to you, or to Y/n while you’re out, you’d never forgive yourself. What do you say about having it just for touring? For this leg anyway?” Jeff suggested.

Harry took a sip of water and let out a deep breath. “Okay, but just while we’re touring and then it stops” Harry said and Jeff nodded.

“Text me when you want to go out and I’ll come for you” Andy said and Harry nodded.

“Thanks guys” said Harry and the team got up to leave. He gave each of them a hug and you thanked Jeff for his help as you saw them out of the hotel room.

“It isn’t fair” Harry said with a crack in his voice, falling on the bed.

You turned round and you saw Harry almost reduced to tears “I shouldn’t have to run away and leave you by yourself”

“Harry, I’m fine” you reassured him. You were now lying down and cuddling with him on the king size bed.

He put his arm around you to spoon you “it’s not fine, you didn’t ask for this. To be chased by fans”

“No, but I chose you. I knew what I was letting myself in for. You made that very clear, and I wouldn’t change it for the world, you know why? Because you’re my runner, you’re my track star” you mocked his earlier running episode in his vans and he let out a giant, genuine laugh, the type of laugh that you couldn’t help but giggle at.

You turned round to face him “as long as you’re okay, I’m okay. If that means dates with big burly men watching us, then so be it” you said to make him laugh.

He smiled, this time looking far more comfortable than he did 20 minutes again. “I love you” he said, pulling you in for a kiss.

“I love you too”

[sofasoap]

Little secret.

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader + 141 boys.

Summary: When Soap and Gaz found out something their captain been keeping a secret for a long time. and Ghost is amused. This is part of the "Mini" MacTavish universe, but the reader isn't " Mini".

Warning: M rated, swearing. Before anyone starts the debate, the age gap between Reader and Price is not huge. All consenting adults here. Also the flash back event was from quite a few years ago. So don't come argue with me thanks. You are responsible for your own media consumption , minors DNI.

A/N: This is what I call, when you can't find food, you create your own food. There's so many angsty Price fics out there I want this man to be happy.....

Character of Mini MacTavish is from @saltofmercury fic “ “The Favorite MacTavish” ” which she graciously let me borrow and write bit more expanded universe. Please go read her wonderful story to get bit of background

 “masterlist” for more stories to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

" You met her before."

Soap and Gaz's mouth dropped open.

"When????"

"... At my wedding. His son was there too."

" OH WOW HOLD UP there's too much information to process here." Gaz push his seat back and holding both hands up.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz sitting in Price's office, waiting for him to come back for mission briefing. When the topic somehow turns to Price's love life.

" I never seen Price mention or seen anyone that he is interested in before." Soap mentioned

" .. You know he is married right?" Simon cuts in and drop the bombshell news.

" Not only at my wedding, you two seen her around the base few times too."

" WAIT WHAT??? how is that possible??"

The office door opens and Price came in with documents in his hand. Soap jump to the opportunity attacking Price with questions,

" HOW COME YOU NEVER TOLD US!?"

" Told you what?"

" That you are already married! and.. and have a child as well!"

Price throw the file onto his desk, eyeing Ghost silently, why did you tell them. Ghost just shrugged his shoulder and sip on his tea.

"I don't have to tell you every bits and pieces about my private life do I?" Price sigh.

" But.. "

" Shut up and let's start the meeting."

Price thought back to the day you two first met. Well, technically you seen him around the base few times, and when he comes into the infirmary, but you were never the ones to treat him, nor have you two ever interacted.

But secretly you always have eyes on him.

You were a rookie medic at that stage, and Price was already a big presence in SAS, you heard a lot of stories and his deeds on battlefield. People gossip about him, how he is still single is beyond everyone's believe.

"Bravo 6 to Watcher 1, I been compromised, taking fire."

" Roger, meet at the rendezvous point. Go!"

Price started running through the street, trying to throw off his chasers. Suddenly a pair of hand pulled him into the alley way and yank his head down into a kiss.

While still in shock he can faintly hear running footsteps getting closer.

"Don't turn around, They are heading the other way now but still too close." you whispered after breaking the kiss and quickly taking your scarf off and wrapping around his neck and remove his beanies.

".. Who are you." Price asked as he buried his face into the crook of neck. You shivered a bit when you feel his beard grazing against your skin.

" A rookie medic on holiday here."

" How do you know I am in danger."

" I saw Laswell before around the street, and you sitting in the cafe, put two and two together there must be a mission." You let out a breath. " They are gone now." You push him away a little. But he still kept his hold on you.

You were telling the truth. You are on your holiday in Amsterdam, visiting your high school friend who moved to Netherland after getting married. Today as your friend had something else on, you took the chance to do a bit of sightseeing yourself by strolling around the city. That's when you saw Laswell, trying to conceal herself by the street corner. She look at you and by instinct you knew she is here on business, not to compromise the mission you just kept walking.

Feeling cold, you saw a cafe further down the canal. Deciding to get a take away coffee so you can make yourself bit warmer, you spotted Price sitting just in the corner, turning his face away. You walked past him, order a cafe and went on your way.

A while later further down the street you vaguely hear the gunshot being fired, and Price running towards your direction. Without thinking you pulled him into the alley way and kissed him. You don't know why you did that.

" Bravo 6, do you copy."

" Watcher 1, I got extra package. Heading to rendezvous point now. "

" Sorry." You apologised.

Price sighed. " Let's get moving."

You got through the rest of your holiday without anymore drama. After you got back to the base, you couldn't forget the way he look at you after Laswell dropped you off in a safe spot before leaving. Price quietly thank you for your help, you can sense he wanted to say more, but stopped himself short.

You tell yourself he thinks nothing more of you other than a fellow soldier that helped him during the mission by pure chance.

.. Until he comes into the infirmary one day, with a dislocated shoulder.

You were the only one on duty. He wasn't surprised to see you, but you were. Bit flustered you ask him to sit down and check his injury.

"What were you doing??"

" Sparring with the new recruits."

" You should be more careful. Looks like an old recurrent injury too. You know how to pop it back yourself right?"

Price didn't respond. Even when you pop his shoulder back into the socket.

" .. Thank you." He quietly thanked your help again. just like he did in the car.

You wave him off. " Alright, don't do anything too strenuous for next few days. If any problem, come back to the med bay. "

Afterwards you often find him coming in with all sorts of injuries. very minor ones too. Your fellow medic starting to tease you;

"Our lovely Captain Price must have a crush on you. You should see his face last time when he came in while you were on leave. He look so disappointed that I was the one to treat him." They laughed.

" Don't be ridiculous." you scoffed. Price will never have feelings for you, a little rookie medic that isn't great on the battlefield and really contributes nothing on the grand scale, unlike them, heading out on counter terrorism missions, taking down cartels. But you do think it's odd he kept coming in for little things, as before he hardly turns up unless it's one of his fellow teammate escorting a.k.a force him to have some major injuries to be looked at.

One late evening, you were on night duty, while everyone else was either in bed or off on dates for Valentines day, you heard a knock on the door.

" Come in."

Price pop his head in , with two cups of coffee in hand.

" Oh. Um, Captain, what can I do for you? Are you hurt?"

" I am not disturbing you am I?" " No, I am just finish writing clinical notes from this morning. Come in. " He closed the door gently with his foot and approach the desk.

Putting the coffee down on the desk, he took a seat.

"Is that for me?" he nod his head once.

" Oh . thank you." You took a sip. Vienna style coffee. Just the way you like it.

He must have seen the surprise on your face. "... I asked your friend."

No wonder. You knew something was up when they begged you to swap the shift tonight. " Please... I got a date to go to! It's Valentines day.. and You got no plans that night right? sorry not trying to insult you. I promise I will return the favour next time if you need someone to change your shift...". Damn them , you cursed.

Face burning, you quietly sipping on the coffee.

"... are you free next weekend." He suddenly asked.

Raising eyebrow, " I can be.. Why?"

".... Can I take you out for dinner." he mumbled while hiding his face with the cup. You choked. IS he asking you out?

And the rest is history.

"So Captain , where does your.. wife work in the base?"

" None of your business."

" She's a medic in the infirmary." Ghost replied.

Price shot another death glance at Ghost.

" OHH, I must ask about her next time I go in. "

" Stay away from her you two. That's why I didn't want to tell people" he growled.

Ghost is secretly a shit stirrer. Mini gave him a gag gift one year that says " keep calm drink tea " for his ability to shit stir and watch the chaos unfold as he drinks tea.

Thank you for reading!!!

[industrations]

how did you, @alarainai and @imdamagecontrol all meet??

Fen and i were in the same discord server, and we interacted in there a little bit and I thought oh this person is cool AND they wrote that adorable jeggy fic, I’m going to be brave for the first time in my life and dm them. Then i did, we chatted a bit, then bonded over our shared passion over anchient Egypt, made a anubis sirius au and went crazy over that. And the rest is history

THEN for the other rat. Fen and syd were already friends and fen was like 'hmmm i want my friends to be friends' so they put us in a group together and introducing us like in elementary school. I don’t completely remember how it went but syd and i started talking as well and got along :)

And THEN i got to meet both of them at london pride irl hehe. And we talked about all the dead gay wizards, heard the lingo of the britts, scarred old ladies, talked about little psychopaths who play exy, and laughed a whole lot. I also got to meed syd another time when she came to the netherlands and we slept on some yoga boat and walked around the bookstore, sat down there and had more good times

I love them both very much, i’m so thankful to have such lovely friends really. I’d do anything to make them happy

[a-silent-symphony]

TARJA TURUNEN Says She Is Supportive Of Current NIGHTWISH Singer FLOOR JANSEN: 'We Are Sisters In Metal'

During an appearance on a recent episode of the "Scars And Guitars" podcast, former NIGHTWISH vocalist Tarja Turunen was asked if she has ever had any interactions with current NIGHTWISH singer Floor Jansen. She responded (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "We are in touch, and recently more, because she came up with the really horrible news of being sick. [Editor's note: Jansen recently revealed that she was diagnosed with breast cancer.] So I've been in touch with her. But ever since she joined NIGHTWISH, I was there for her. So it's, like, I don't have any… Actually, I hope she's fine and everything is great with her and she's happy. That's what I wish. Now and then when I am in Netherlands, if I have concerts in Netherlands, she's poking by and so on and so on. It's really, really nice.

"In general, hey, I feel in metal, we are sisters in metal — we all are like sisters in metal," she continued. "We actually do support each other, all of us.

"When I started in metal, I felt a little lonely, because there were not too many girls around in the festivals I went; I was mainly the only girl all around," Tarja revealed. "And nowadays it's so incredible to see so many female vocalists. They approach me — if I do not recognize them, they approach me — they come and talk. And it's really lovely. We have this really beautiful connection and a lot to share. And that is also… I really enjoy it so much nowadays. It has changed a lot."

In December 2020, Turunen took part in an Instagram Live chat with Jansen. You can watch the entire 48-minute discussion below.

Turunen and Jansen previously performed a duet together at the 2013 edition of the Metal Female Voices Fest at Oktoberhallen in Wieze, Belgium. The women joined forces on a cover version of "Over The Hills And Far Away", originally written and recorded by the Northern Irish singer and guitarist Gary Moore and previously covered by NIGHTWISH on the 2001 EP of the same name.

Jansen made her live debut as the frontwoman of NIGHTWISH on October 1, 2012 at Showbox Sodo in Seattle, Washington following the abrupt departure of the band's lead singer of five years, Anette Olzon.

Jansen officially joined NIGHTWISH in 2013 and made her recording debut with the group on 2015's "Endless Forms Most Beautiful" album.

NIGHTWISH's ninth studio album, "Human. :II: Nature." , was released in April 2020 via Nuclear Blast. The effort is a double album containing nine tracks on the main CD and one long track, divided into eight chapters on CD 2.

In 2019, Turunen dismissed Internet chatter about her possible return to NIGHTWISH after her December 2017 onstage reunion with the band's then-bassist/vocalist Marco Hietala during a "Raskasta Joulua" concert in Hämeenlinna, Finland.

"I know a lot of fans would love to see something happen, but it's a very long distance away," she told Kerrang! magazine. "Personally, I don't see anything happening with me and them, to be perfectly honest. Marco came a little later into the band; he wasn't there since the beginning. He was always a guy I was close to. Me and [NIGHTWISH keyboardist/leader] Tuomas Holopainen, however, haven't seen each other in a long time… but we have been in touch. It's not bad. The past is what it is; we can't change that. We can only change the future."

Turunen was fired from NIGHTWISH at the end of the band's 2005 tour by being presented with an open letter which was published on the NIGHTWISH web site at the same time. In the letter, the other members of NIGHTWISH wrote: "To you, unfortunately, business, money, and things that have nothing to do with emotions have become much more important."

Holopainen later called the decision to part ways with Turunen "the most difficult thing I ever had to do." For her part, Tarja said the way she was kicked out of the group proved that her former bandmates were not her friends. "Maybe one day I'll forgive, but I will never forget," she said.

Tarja will release a new collection, "Best Of: Living The Dream", on December 2 via earMUSIC.

[sydsofia13]

a bromance - kmew & sonnett

pairing: Kristie Mewis & Emily Sonnett

Word Count: 1178

a/n: after the recent events of the CONCACAF tournament, and the newfound bromance of kmew and sonnett, thought it would be funny. ps its short but hope you enjoyyyyy

Bromance

Being back on the National team was exciting for Kristie Mewis. She had worked so hard, since her ACL injury, to return to the team. It was a hard few years, but when she returned, in the game, against the Netherlands, and scored a goal, she knew she was back where she belonged. 

“Kratcheeta!” Rose said to her, during the Olympics. 

“Yes Rose?” Kristie answered.

“Oh, nothing, I just really wanted to say that. 

Then her nickname turned into something worse. 

“Krotch!” Abby Dahlkemper said on the pitch, during September camp. 

“Yes?” Kristie asked. 

“I want you on my team!” 

Kristie felt as if she had found a space that she belonged. Houston always felt so far away from home, but being in camp, with her sister and friends, it was everything she had wanted. 

While developing a relationship with the Australian superstar, Sam Kerr, Kristie had a lot on her plate, which included national team commitments. Kristie and Sam found it hard to find time to see each other, through the months of being apart, so Kristie found her own family, within the national team. She found her people, which made her feel complete and whole, away from her girlfriend. 

Throughout 2022, Kristie’s friendships with her national team mates grew. As her sister was injured, and not going to the camps, she couldn't rely on her like she used to. Kristie wasn’t a reserved person, but she had shy tendencies, and would often find herself not knowing what to do or say. That’s why she started becoming closer with someone completely the opposite. Someone who always gets told they are the funniest. Emily Sonnett. Or just Sonnett. Who uses the Emily anyways? 

“Krotch!” Sonnett said, as she was sitting, alongside Rose, Lindsey, and Kelley, in the dining hall, “come here!” Kristie walked over to Sonnett and the girls, sitting down beside them. 

“Yes, Sonnett?” “I wanted to have a chat,” she said, with a little glint in her eye. 

“About…?” 

“Who’s funnier: me or your girlfriend?” I laughed as she said this, knowing that both Sam and Sonnett were very funny people, in their own way. But to please her, I said the following:

“Don’t worry, Son, you’re the funniest person around.” She proudly smiled, returning to her food. 

Going to the CONCACAF tournament, without Sam, was something Kristie was upset about. She was sad that she wasn’t going to be there with her sister, but she knew she was going to do everything she could to cement her place within the team. Within the national scope. It was something she had wanted to do for so long. 

The tournament had been going well so far, with a win against Haiti in the opening match. Kristie came on in the second half, and performed well. She was playing in the midfield, but depending on the player subbing out, she was going into the 6, 8 or 10. She was the most versatile midfielder, and that’s why she was one of their best. 

The Jamaica game soon rolled around, and she subbed on again. When Midge was tripped up in the box, and a penalty was awarded, Kristie stood up. She had been scoring penalties for her club team, but had never taken one for the national team. She was nervous, but knew it was going to be okay. She knew she would get it. She took a breath, stepped back, and unleashed her lethal left foot, and slotted it past. 

Sonnett rushed up to her, and, in a rough, brotherly fashion, their chests hit hard together, as they were pumped that they were now 4-0 against Jamaica. Her interaction with Sonnett was quickly contrasted with that of Midge, to whom Kristie gave a sweet hug to after scoring the penalty. 

“Fuck yeah!” Sonnett said, happy for Kristie. 

Their chest bump was one of the most talked about moments of their game, as it cemented their friendship. Cemented Sonnett and Kmew. 

“I loved the little growl moment you two had,” Kelley said in the locker room.

“Just pumping my best friend up!” Sonnett replied, “JK I know I’m not your best friend.” 

“Why do you keep saying that Son? You’re so awkward?” Kristie laughed. 

“Am I your best friend?” Sonnet then asked, with big, puppy dog eyes. 

“SON!”

“Okay, okay, I won’t put you in that position,” she answered, but not before winking, and then walking off. Kristie could only shake her head and laugh at her teammate. 

The next game, against Mexico, was a tough one. The USWNT weren’t able to penetrate Mexico’s low block, and by the time Kristie had subbed on, it was still 0-0. 

It was only in the 88th minute that the USWNT had the breakthrough. Megan took a short corner, and the pass went over to Ashley at the far post. She cut it back from a Mexican defender, to Taylor, who looped the pass into the box. Sonnett headed the ball down to the ground, and although the keeper got a slight touch to the ball, Kristie was able to shuffle the ball into the goal. Kristie had gotten the goal. They were up. 

Sonnett screamed with happiness, fueled by excitement, and as Kristie was celebrated by Meghan.

“Fuck yeah!” Kristie screamed. 

Soon Sonnett went over to Kristie, and they again hit chests, before Sonnett’s arm wrapped around Kristie's body. It was now twice, in two games, in which Kristie had scored and Sonnett and her newfound bromance was on show for the world to see. 

“Am I being replaced?” Kelley questioned, as the girls walked off the field. 

“Replaced?” Sonnett asked. 

“You and Mewis, a new bromance in the making I see.”

“Ooo I should make this a competition!” Sonnett said with glee. 

“Well, I’d win,” Kelley said. 

“Not too sure about that,” Kristie added, walking up behind them, “I’m quite competitive.”

“So am I,” Kelley added. 

“I think I’ll back my new bro in this one, Kelley,” Sonnett said, wrapping her arm around Kristie, “Krotch has got a fire to her.” 

Kristie later posted on her instagram, two photos, both from after she scored with Sonnett. 

Kmewis19: If you don’t growl in each other’s face did you even score? Biiiiiig semi final mood

Sonnett and Kristie’s friendship was turning into one of the most iconic ones of the tournament, and it fueled so much excitement into both of them. 

“Did I just get a whole Kristie Mewis instagram post… dedicated to me?” Sonnett asked, the next morning. 

“”Dedicated to you”, I’d question but yes, you did get a photo,” Kristie said.

“I feel so special,” Sonnett replied. 

“I’m really starting to feel a little bit jealous now,” Kelley added. 

“Yes, yes you should,” Sonnett replied, while Kristie laughed. 

“Don’t be jealous, Kells,” Kristie said, “it's hard when I’m the competition.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll win her back,” Kelley said, “I get Spirits with her.” 

“Hm,” Kristie replied, “you’ll text me, right Son?” Kristie smirked as she said this. 

“Of course, best friend.” “Seriously?” Kelley finished. 

[live-laugh-loverpool]

Of Snowmen and Middle-Earth

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234, @moomin279, @lfc-fanfiction, @rubybecker-rb2

Summary: Gakpo has been struggling to bond with the seven kids. To remedy this, he tries to build a snowman with them.

Cody Gakpo had received a lot of surprises when he’d came to Liverpool. Not the cold weather—he’d expected England in the winter would be colder than in the Netherlands. Not the lively atmosphere—he’d expected that from Van Dijk’s descriptions.

What really surprised Gakpo was how close everyone was to each other. Not just that, but there were six adults—and two married couples—with kids. In all, there were seven children living in Kirkby Ground.

He’d expected a bit of difficulty meshing with the others—he was new, after all. But he had not expected to deal with seven children.

Right now, there was a blanket of snow outside. Most of the others were busy doing something outside; he would join them later. But now he was in the same room with the kids, and they hadn’t even said hello to each other.

What can I do with them? Gakpo had never been good with kids. His younger cousins avoided him unless the grownups forced them to have some “quality time” together. He’d tried interacting with random babies he saw in the store or park, but every time he smiled at them they would either cry or throw something at him—usually, tuna cans.

Wait a minute. It was snowing outside, and snow was always a good place to start. Kids loved snow, so why not take them out to play in the snow? He wasn’t sure about the whole idea—one young adult to seven children under ten seemed disproportionate, plus there were two babies and Arwen would need help navigating the thick snow. But his big mouth prevented him from doing any more risk assessment.

“Kids! Let’s go build a snowman!”

Faster than you could say his name, the kids had surrounded Gakpo. All held up warm winter gear, all were clamoring for his help, and all wanted to go outside. NOW.

He really hadn’t thought this through.

“Alright, alright!” Gakpo held up a hand, taking baby Tristan from the ground. “Let’s get you all ready. Could one of you get the snow gear from wherever you keep it?”

“You mean the nursery? Sure!” Florrie and Kairo ran out the door, Arwen following close behind.

Gakpo sighed in relief, holding Tristan. The ten-month-old baby glared at him as if he’d just committed a crime. “Alright, little man. Let’s get you into your snowsuit.”

*

After wrestling with zippers and buttons and toggles and squirming, kicking limbs, Gakpo finally managed to get the kids out the door.

He pushed Arwen’s wheelchair onto the lawn, careful to mind the bumps in the road. After a brief discussion with Arwen, he’d found out that the eight year old usually used an electric wheelchair except in bad weather. Thick snow like this qualified as bad weather, so Gakpo would push her chair long distances and Arwen would wheel herself across short stretches of land.

Gakpo carried Ellie and Tristan in a double baby carrier, even though both could crawl and walk. Grace and Henrietta toddled around, but Gakpo had a twenty-foot length of rope tied between their wrists and his waist. It was highly unlikely they would run into danger considering that the lawn had a huge parking lot between itself and the road, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He’d only let Florrie and Kairo run free because they were a little older and would listen to him if he called.

“So, what are we going to use for our snowman?” he asked once the little ones had run off all their pent-up energy. Now he knew how every parent in the world felt. “Are we giving him a scarf?”

“Yeah!” Florrie took out a scarf from her pocket, holding it up like it was a trophy. “A scarf, and a carrot nose, and a magic hat that makes him sing and dance!”

“Frosty’s overrated,” said Arwen, tossing a snowball at the wall. “I’ll tell you a real snowman story, if you start those balls to the point where it’s big enough for me to roll.”

Ellie, interested in all the activity going on around her, demanded to get down from the baby carrier. Gakpo set the seven month old on Arwen’s lap, knowing that Arwen wouldn’t let her fall.

He tried to get Tristan to play in the snow as well. But Tristian refused to be put down. In fact, he just wanted to stay on Gakpo’s lap as a chubby dark teal lump.

*

Soon the snowman was done, and Gakpo still hadn’t managed to interact with the kids. Ellie and Tristian had fell asleep in the carrier, and Grace and Henrietta were tuckered out from romping in the deep snow. They sat next to Gakpo on the bench, watching Florrie, Kairo and Arwen have a snowball fight.

“You guys are all so lucky,” Gakpo whispered to Ellie, even though he knew the baby couldn’t hear him. “This is your home and everybody loves you. You’ve got people here who are great with kids. None of you guys are even interested in me.”

Henrietta yawned, as if to prove his point.

“I can’t hold an interesting conversation for too long,” he went on, kicking at the snow. “Pigs will fly before I do that.”

“No piggy!”

Arwen came up to Gakpo, wringing her hands together for warmth. “Hey.”

“Uh…hey Arwen.”

Arwen smirked, stopping beside the forward. “I’m usually called Arwen when I’m in trouble. Please, just call me Winnie.”

Now this was getting weird. “As in Winnie the Pooh?!”

“What? No way!” Arwen opened the bookbag on the back of her wheelchair, taking out a book. “I was named after the character in Lord of the Rings. Have you ever read that?”

“No.”

“You should.” Arwen handed Gakpo the dark green and blue book. “It’s epic. So Bilbo’s cousin Frodo goes with his Fellowship to destroy the One Ring and it’s maker, Dark Lord Sauron.”

Gakpo studied the book with new interest. “Maybe I should read this.”

“It’ll make more sense if you read The Hobbit,” Arwen advised him, taking a list out of her backpack. “And if you want more, there’s always The Two Towers and The Return of the King. It took me eighteen months to read all four of those books.”

“Just eighteen months?” Gakpo gulped, staring at the four thick books. “You must really like reading, Winnie.”

“It’s one of my hobbies, along with ping-pong. But do you know what I like better than reading stories? Telling them!”

“You tell your own stories? From your imagination? You’re lucky,” Gakpo admitted. “I’ve never had that much imagination. That’s why I’m not so good with kids.”

Arwen nodded, setting Grace on her lap. “I can relate. I’ve always wanted to do needlework, but I never had the patience to. What do you do for fun?”

“Not much,” Gakpo admitted with a shrug. “FIFA and checkers.”

“Hey, Mom and I play checkers sometimes.” Arwen extended a hand. “You want to play against me sometime?”

Gakpo hesitated a bit before shaking Arwen’s hand. “Sure, anytime you’d like.”

“Then we can go inside and start as soon as possible.” Arwen balanced Grace and Henrietta on her lap, tucking Lord of the Rings into her backpack. “Just make sure to find a table with enough space under it. We both need to fit our legs under there.”

Gakpo flashed her a thumbs-up as he stood from the bench. “Sure.”

Gakpo had always thought he wasn’t good with kids. But as he called for Florrie and Kairo to come inside, he thought that just this once, he might have a talent in babysitting after all.

[spoopy-fish-writes]

Summary of so far because I got WiFi literally 2 minutes ago 👍

Random plane + trip thoughts under the cut ofc because there’s a lot <3

My mum knows people in Germany, in the Netherlands, in Italy, and yet the one place where she doesn’t know anyone is the specific part of Egypt that we’re flying to are you kidding me

I’m gonna start knocking out children on this plane fr shut up

I need to go to the bathroom so bad but I would rather die than go to the bathroom on a plane :/

I took a nap but it was only like 20 minutes and I wasn’t fully asleep so I could still hear everyone around me this is so upsetting what was the point of the nap

Being on this plane felt more like I was in a car honestly it was moving and shaking so much even when there wasn’t turbulence wtf. It was so scary man fr like every time we would hit turbulence the lady on the communicator would give the seatbelt warning sounding so scared and her voice was so shaky and it would constantly be cutting off like please I’m already worried about this trip don’t tell me you’re worried about crashing because of this too

Everyone on the plane was so loud and I have even more reason to hate iPad kids and parents that raise their children on technology

Maybe if your kid wasn’t so used to only going to sleep if they were watching something then they would have been asleep and not screaming the whole time we were on the plane and I also wouldn’t have to listen to Little Baby Bum for 90% of the trip. PLUS THE AMOUNT OF TIMES THESE KIDS DROPPED THEIR IPADS ON THE FLOOR JUST HOLD THEM FOR THEM OR GET THEM TO SLEEP

There was a group of like 4 toddlers who had like 5 minutes where they just chanted “baby shark baby shark baby shark” like they were trying to summon something

I realised like half way through the flight that I’ve never stayed in a hotel before and I got so anxious for no reason about it. It’s only for a day and a bit as well though it might have been my concern over the fact that I didn’t pack a toothbrush or hairbrush since I assumed that we were going directly to my house instead of staying 2 days in a hotel before getting another plane to get to the house but also it’s normal to assume that a hotel in Egypt would have that available to you

Meeting people from Egypt while being Egyptian is like having an internet friendship and the same with meeting someone from England while being English but this exclusively applies to parties and such in that context but it only lasts for like 3 hours before you never see each other again for the next 7 years where one of you miraculously recognises the other. You learn their entire life story within the first 10 minutes and only learn their name after it’s been 4 hours and one of you thinks to ask just before the other leaves but you never give each other your numbers and never intend to see them ever again.

I hate planes now though fr I cannot take the hour flight home just give me the 8 hour trip by coach to my house

Realised while on the plane that it’s Heaven Official’s blessing and not Heaven’s official blessing 💀

The second one sounds so correct 😭

Shi Qingxuan and Xie Lian’s interactions >>>>

They are besties and I love them. Dianxia please save me from the reality that Shi Qingxuan is eventually going to die 🙏

Xie Lian really delivers one of the most lines ever in the series and then just goes “haha, can we please pretend I never said that just ignore that it ever happened please stop looking at me like that-“

Why did everyone clap when the plane landed

No one on this plane knows anything about Egypt omg “I can’t see the pyramids where’s the desert” MY GUY YOU ARE NOT IN GIZA

Forgot how lanky Egyptian guys are there mfs are TALL

Everyone is so annoyed that we’re Egyptian lmao because as soon as they heard that we came from Britain they assumed that they could scam us out of an extra £15 for a taxi ride that was 10 minutes long and such and came running but started arguing and complaining once they realised that we knew the actual prices for the stuff and services that they were selling and how the system in Egypt worked when it came to British and American people

We need to buy plugs for the chargers because both my phone and my mums are dying and we have the charger but no plugs because my mum assumed that they would have plugs at the hotel. They didn’t. Which was weird. Because it’s basically common courtesy here that hotels have things like toothbrushes and hair brushes and plugs. Realised it’s because they had a terrible group of guests that literally stole everything from pepper to toilet paper when they left literally the day before so that’s not on them

Need to draw :/

I HATE Jun Wu right? But people who draw him with greying hair are. Y’all are right. Keep doing that.

NORMALLY that doesn’t make a person more attractive to me it’s just with him and Leo BUT he has such a detestable face to me that giving him the grey hair makes me go 👀 BECAUSE IM NOT REGISTERING HIM IN MY HEAD AS THE SAME PERSON BUT ALSO I AM BUT A DIFFERENT VERSION OF HIM IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN and also he’s not one of the exceptions I have to young looking powerful people that I like. He just needed to look older and more correct. It’s… the dilfness. Yano

Don’t look at me or say anything I saw a tik tok with Jun Wu with grey hair and it reminded me of some yandere stuff I wanted to write for pre calamity Jun Wu and I am never going to recover from that because I don’t actually fully remember what the thing itself was and I’m not normal anymore

I’m not gonna have wifi until tomorrow or be able to charge my phone help

I can see why Sharm El Sheikh is such a popular tourist spot now the ocean there is SO clear

Also a flying fish jumped a little ways in front of my mum which was cool

You can see schools of fish around really close to the shore there has to be a reef close by

There was a reef close by!!

I went diving which was really cool but I got bit by a bloody Parrot fish that wouldn’t leave me alone for the whole thing hate that guy and he’s in every photo that we took while scuba diving like get out this isn’t about you

The reef was so cool though but it would have been cooler if I could actually see because my goggles were fogged up a bunch :/

Found a bunch of coral on the beach also which was fun and very cool looking which I’m taking with me back to England

I found a bunch before I went diving and most of it was white so I assumed that it was a dying reef nearby considering how close the fish were but it was probably just really old coral at that point

There was a bunch of clams in the reef as well and you could see the blue outline of the mouth and I’m so upset I didn’t bring a waterproof camera with me or as the camera guy that came diving with me to take photos of the reef too

Please if anyone knows of a fic anywhere where Shi Qingxuan chooses He Xuan when they’re given the ultimatum please please please tell me I need it so bad it’s important

Half because I could never be strong enough to choose my brother over He Xuan as myself currently because it’s He Xuan how am I meant to say no to the black water sinking ships when they look that fine alright but like I get why Shi Qingxuan did because their brother isn’t my brother ofc and I would kill to have Shi Wudu as a brother but I need to know what would happen in a situation where Shi Qingxuan decides, not necessarily when asked but at a point when it would still have a significant impact to choose He Xuan that their brother fucked up but big time or such and such. I need to.

Oh yeah the other half is just because I want beefleaf content. Might not be able to read it until I’m back in England though </3

Got given a plug I’m unstoppable now 👍

The son of the owner of the hotel found out that a fish bit me and said that people say it’s good luck because fish rarely do that here. Then followed up by saying that he doesn’t know who people is but they say it

My mum switched to my brother’s fiancé’s Egyptian SIM card so we can use data here until we can get my cousin’s old one for her and then I’ll take the fiancé’s one but that’s not the point of this and she is getting so many spam calls like girl what did you do to have someone from Seattle calling you 2 minutes after someone from Denmark 😭

Why can I remember my aunts address but half the time can’t remember my dads phone number. Keep in mind I haven’t been to this aunts house in 7 or so years and the last time I had to say my dads number to myself or someone else was literally 2 months ago

I’ve taken so many naps while at this hotel like I’ve spent most of this day sleeping randomly

We’re getting a coach to our next destination at 5am please don’t do this to me. AND we have to get a taxi before to get to the pick up and after the drop off to go to the villa

We’re late for the coach 💀

Egyptians and their weird ringtones I’ve been listening to random songs and sounds as ringtones for the past day and a bit. It might just be hotel people here though my mum uses the default one on her phone

Driving laws DO NOT exist here help lmao

Need fo figure out how to change my time zone it’s just not doing that automatically and I’m done with adding 2 hours on every time I look at the time

They’re talking about us getting stopped by police on the way and bringing in sniffer dogs on the coach :/

These people are too casual about taking their hands off the wheel while driving 60km but all of the roads are empty and we’re on a main road and also in Egypt so yeah makes sense

No wonder they’re so upset that we’re Egyptian there are no tourists here wtf. Christmas is their second biggest time for tourists and there’s no one here they get most of their revenue from tourists but it’s 5am and everything is already closed this never happens

I need to stop taking naps I’m hungry for some reason and I’m never hungry and it’s weird and hurts and I don’t like it and the naps are the only things that’s different about my day. If anything I’ve been eating MORE than usual so I’m very confused

On the coach and slightly less hungry despite not eating anything. Teeth feel and taste weird though because I couldn’t find the toothpaste because it’s somewhere at the bottom of one of the bags because we repacked after the day in the hotel :/

I’ve been falling asleep in exactly hour and a half intervals on the coach each time wtf I’m taking too many naps and still feeling tired this is evil and cruel and horrible and wretched

I haven’t seen my room in several years but I remember exactly how it looks I’m really excited to go back to it tbh

Omg I’m gonna take so many of my old toys back with me to England they’re all in this big basketball container thing that I used to use the lid of for pretend surfing when I was younger and am definitely going to this time too while I’m not sharing the room with my sister but if I don’t find my lion toy I’m going to scream and cry and also my old McDonald’s toys

My mum wants to go to my grandma’s house first thing after we get back to our house but my grandma doesn’t even know we’re in Egypt do you want to kill or get killed by this poor woman 😭

Omg I finally have a chance to show you the waterfall in my house!!

The waterfall doesn’t have any water in it rn :(

I have so many mosquito bites but they’re all on my hands hello???

Hugged a male cousin that I used to be really close with when I was younger that was a mistake my mum is constantly bringing up the fact that she would never allow him to marry me please shut up he’s basically my brother stop talking

THERES APPARENTLY A MASSIVE CENTIPEDE IN THE VILLA HELP

My dads already left it a complete mess please I can’t deal with having to get rid of a centipede as wel

There’s no centipede 👍

I’m less upset with my dad leaving the place a mess than him saying that he paid a bunch of money to get it done and cleaned but clearly having done none of that. He’s done as much as he could on his own downstairs but upstairs just has a bunch of his stuff strewn around for no reason in rooms that he had no reason to go into

Gonna get wifi and data soon 🙏

Finished the matching Scara wallpaper 👍 Now I need to go eat something that’s gonna knock 5 years off my life

Need to add Scaras hat but I don’t know if they’ve fixed the WiFi yet so I don’t know what it looks like exactly and all of the dust in the house is gonna have me incapacitated help

I took pain killers for my headache but I didn’t eat or drink anything prior so I think I’m worse

There’s a painting of my dad here in colour but it used to be in black and white. I don’t know where he got it coloured but they’ve just taken a picture of the original painting and put it through an AI and then painted random parts on top of it and it looks so much worse than it used to :/

His whole face is blurred like his skin and clothes and hair has negative texture now

I have breathed in so much dust help I’m going to die

WiFi isn’t working :/

My room is now clean and livable!! :D

Cleaned out the secret compartment behind my mirror so I can shove my coral and jewellery and such behind it 👍

I am reliving so many memories but I found the lion toy and a rabbit toy and a pug toy that I remember loving so much and also my pink poodle but he’s missing his nose but I need to wash the first three so I can sleep with them and also take them back with me to England

Living around English people for so long without coming here has made me forget that Egyptians primarily communicate via screaming at each other

I’m trying so hard to beat the not able to speak Arabic allegations that my mum spread because she didn’t think I could because I never spoke it with her because I just didn’t want to but it’s so hard when my hearing is shit and I can’t hear what anyone is saying I understand you I promise but give me a second please I cannot hear you I don’t know what you’re saying

I’ve written 4 fics in the past 2 days I am living truly. Gonna finish the Genshin secret Santa fic today too if I can as well as some extras for my mutual beloveds >:]

[kelsonius]

Story time!

One time when I was still relatively healthy and studying in the south of the country, I bought a nice second hand table for only €2. The transaction platform (marktplaats) indicated that the seller was within a kilometer of me and the table's surface was 75x75cm, so I figured I could pick up the table myself...

Two important things were not as I anticipated. First, the distance to the seller was at least 3km but I was used to walking a lot so I didn't mind. Second, the table was not the super light material I expected of a small Ikea table. Lifting the table at the seller's address though, I figured I could handle it.

I was sort of right I guess, with a face red from exertion and sweating everywhere I made my way back home carrying the table. One of the heavy metal (🤘) legs rested on my shoulder as I held the table by the edges of its topside in front of me.

Walking along busy streets I felt my muscles getting numb a little over halfway back and figured I needed a break. Luckily there was a public bench at an intersection there, unfortunately it was right in front of a café that had a terrace full of people thanks to the great summer weather.

Of course I was a bit embarrassed sitting down on the bench, panting, setting down the table next to me on the sidewalk. But I figured none of these people knew me and we likely wouldn't ever meet again. Also, this was a student city right before the start of the semester so I probably wasn't the only person moving in without a car.

In the end no one bothered interacting with me apart from the stares, so when I recovered a bit I picked up my table and set off again. Now if you've ever pushed your muscles to the point of utter exhaustion you know pusing on from there gets harder and harder until you literally can't go on no matter how long your break is.

Several breaks and contemplation of emergency solutions later (did I have money for a taxi large enough to fit a table? no, I did not), a good samaritan offered to help. I was at the bottom of the hill I lived on at this point, so I gratefully accepted her help for the final stretch. We talked about what brought her to the Netherlands, and it was such an interesting and eye-opening conversation.

The woman was probably in her 30s, and came here from a country in Eastern Europe. From a faulty blood transfusion, she'd gotten infected with HIV but there was no compensation from the hospital or insurance and she couldn't afford treatment. Knowing the healthcare situation was different in Western Europe she came here. After arrival, she said, they started treatment pretty fast and now she lives here on disability benefits.

This was the first time I met a foreigner on Dutch benefits. Often it is a right-wing talking point that all of our problems™ are caused by foreigners like her coming to the Netherlands for 'a better life'. In her home country she probably would've died from a treatable condition caused by human error. That definitively killed any xenophobia that might've still been lingering somewhere in the dark parts of my mind. As long as our problems™ aren't of the same severity as theirs there is no reason to close the borders to those in need.

After the uphill walk, I thanked the woman profusely and we went our separate ways. The memory of publicly torturing myself with a table will stay with me for a long time, but I'm grateful for the experience of meeting this stranger. Today I figured I should look up the actual weight of the table, since it's still sold at Ikea, and the offending construct is a total of 15.45kg. Being as disabled as I currently am, it is now also a fond memory of my former strength.

If you read all of this, I hope you take away the lesson that healthcare shouldn't be a privilege and that you shouldn't try to move furniture across town by yourself on foot.

[musea-reviews]

Japanmuseum SieboldHuis

(Japan Museum Siebold House) ‘’Japan and The Netherlands are closer than you think’’

Location: Leiden, South-Holland, The Netherlands Price: 10,- / students 6,- Duration: 1,5 - 3 hours Transport: about 10-minute walk from Leiden station Language: Dutch, Japanese, English, German Activities: Audio tour, Japanese history Date of visit: 26 April 2023Website

Only Holland is allowed Japan was a closed-off island, not interested in trading with the rest of the world, except for China. When the Dutch were busy sailing all over the world looking for more trade, they stumbled upon Japan in 1598 and became the first country outside of China that Japan traded with. So in 1641, they build a small island called Deshima (出島) where the Dutch traders and scholars could stay. Deshima grew into a big city now known as Nagasaki, the small location that was Deshima is now a museum where the village still looks the same as it did all those years ago. 

The Spaniards and Portuguese already tried to trade with Japan but to no luck, as they got banned from the island, the Dutch VOC remained the only Western country they traded with for almost 200 years. They traded not only objects but also knowledge, therefor Dutch became the scientific language of Japan, and scholars had to learn Dutch. Just like we now use Latin or English. After 1850 Japan started also allowing other countries to trade, but because of this history, Japan and The Netherlands are still very close.

Since Deshima was such a popular spot in Japan, they also decided to build another Dutch village, but modern, called Huis ten Bosch close to Nagasaki.

Siebold’s personal collection This museum was Philipp Franz von Siebold’s personal work. Born in Germany into a family of doctors and biologists, he grew up the same and went to good schools in the Netherlands and Germany. He quickly became very recognized for his work and because his dad was already a very good doctor. In 1822, he was asked at the age of only 23 if he wanted to go on a voyage of discovery to Japan. Siebold was a big fan of Japan and the goal of his trip was to learn about the culture, plants, and animals. This sounds like a dream to him, since he's very passionate. You can see this passion in the museum. The thing I love most is that he actually started this museum, when he came back home he put all the most beautiful things in his home and started the Japan Museum. Just like it is today, in the same location, in his house, his objects. Most of the objects were bought, found (in the case of plants) or given. Some given as gifts from Japanese scholars and students, and some gifted as payment for his medical help. 

Siebold himself as tour guide The museum itself was very dark to preserve the objects, I thought it looked calming. The tour through the museum starts with a short movie about who Siebold is, because he had a diary they know a lot about him. It is spoken through his character like he is telling you about his trip, and throughout the museum the audio tour is the same voice, Siebold showing you around the things he finds fascinating. It just makes it all a bit more personal this way. The floors upstairs were closed that week since they were building a new exposition, so I could only look around downstairs. I will have to come back later. The museum also has a small garden with Siebolds statue and some plants he took with him from Japan that h planted in his garden. Some objects from Siebold have been put in other museums, like some taxidermied animals have been put in Naturalis and some plants have been planted in the botanical garden, both of these museums also on Leiden. 

Would I pay the price: yes, I think the price fits the museum perfectly, maybe even cheap but i have only seen the museum partly. Would I revisit it: Definitely, since I missed some. Who do I recommend it to: Japanese tourists, people interested in Japanese history. 

Interactive:         2 Educational:       4 Storytelling:        4 Price:                 4 Memorable:       4

Total score:        3,6

[thisisafuckingassessment]

POST 19

I haven't write anything for a while and I am getting very very anxious about this assessment now. I think I am about to burn out, or I already did. I am not sure. School was done on the 21st and I was working everyday 10 hours during Christmas. I was away from my family so I might as well just work a lot and distract myself also not giving any attention about being sick, so I came to Hungary on the 28th since then I can't leave my bed, I have fever, my muscles are in pain. And also here is the pressure to write the assessment. Fuck my life. Oh happy 2023 by the way. No promises this year. Maybe one: to graduate. So I might as well just start to check the indicators step by step, shouldn't be that hard. I've done the work during the semester so let's see.

1.1. Framing

The student (aka me), presents a clear framing of the design context they have worked with. The student uses adequate research methods to frame their query. 

I will write about the research process of project M, because for me that was the most interesting from all the projects I've done the past semester. Our project was about how the Dutch museums presenting the topic colonization, and we had to come up with something, that presents the Dutch colonization in Brazil in a different and transparent narrative. When we got the brief we immediately dived into desk research. We checked all the sources, that were provided with the brief and already came up with questions. Who are the target audience? What are best practices for presenting a narrative? How can we find unwritten stories? How are dutch museum exhibitions biased in showing Brazilian colonialism?Then we scheduled an in-dept interview with our client, Morgana, who is from a city in Brazil, that was colonized by the Dutch. She clarified the brief and answered all our questions, that we had in the first place, also she recommended some papers to read and museums to visit. So next day we went to the Rijks Museum, where we saw the room which is called Dutch-Brazil Route. There are 6 paintings by a Dutch painter, Frans Post, all of them are romanticized landscapes, we also learned later, that he was in Brazil for 8 years to paint and then he went back to the Netherlands and continued painting for Brazilian landscapes from his sketches and memory for another 30 years. We had another meeting with Morgana and Mirjam, who is a member of INDCOR, a European research project that aims to study interactive digital narratives. They asked us to read a paper: "Batavia: An Analysis on the Pedagogical Possibilities and Limitations of Virtual Reality Art" Which was about a VR experience of Batavia, that was a Dutch colony in 1627. I didn't find the paper very academic, I felt the author really wanted to prove that VR is not the right medium for this topic, because it makes it gamified, but he couldn't gather enough evidence. In the meeting with Mirjam and Morgana and also with the other team, who were working on the same brief, we discussed the paper and also they made it clear, that they would like us to use VR as a medium. I was very sceptic first, because the main reason behind using VR was, because they said so. We needed to collect all the reasons to choose or not to choose VR and any other mediums. For the suggestion of Mirjam we went to IDFA and we experienced how interesting storytelling can be through different mediums, as well as VR. Which stood out there was 2 VR experiences, Plastisapiens was a very abstract and also scary experience. The experience is dehumanizing and makes the user aware of the risks of plastic in are daily lives. It was very engaging although we were only sitting in a chair and could only use our hands. With these hands was about rape survivors. The storytelling in this experience was very strong. Victims no longer wanted to be seen as single sided survivors, but also as humans who can have emotions and make jokes. These experiences convinced us that VR can be used to present a serious topic without gamification. Also we saw how important the physical environment is, for example the setup, the description or creating a safe space. Later we've visited the Tropen Museum, where is a huge exhibition about colonialism. I think they have a good approach, because they try to be transparent about the origin of their art. They commit some of the art was stolen, and they will continue their efforts to return the pieces. What also stood out, that there were personal stories displayed, about how colonization effecting people's life nowadays.

In the meantime we came up with an early idea, that we'll create a VR experience, showcasing Frans Post's paintings and somehow we extend the paintings and use audio to provide more information. Because from the previous museum visits we experienced that audio and personal stories are a good tools for engage the users, we made an interview with Laura - our Brazilian classmate- and it turned out really interesting, because she had personal stories about colonization. We decided to make more interviews with Brazilians, and I have some Brazilian coworkers, so we also invited them to the school for the interview. We asked them to describe one of Frans Post's paintings. What do they know about the colonization by Dutch in Brazil? Does colonization influenced their life? What is their opinion of how the Dutch museums presenting the topic colonization?

Then we scheduled a meeting with Avynash, He is an expert in VR from the company We Make VR. He helped us a lot with technical questions about building the experience and also about the VR google itself. After the meeting with him, we decided to build the experience in Unity and use Oculus Quest 2 to achieve the best quality.

Overall I enjoyed the whole process of research, because the history of colonialism is a very interesting topic and I've learned very little about it at school. I liked going to museums with my teammates and discuss all of our experiences after next to a coffee.

[donutloverxo]

A Royal scandal 4

Modern royalty au

Image from Instagram

cowritten with @lizzygal​

Note - There will be no taglists for this. You can subscribe to the  ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia, talks of virginity.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7.8k

Story masterlist

Valkyrie, or simply Val, watched the entire thing unfold before her eyes and was helpless to stop any of it. All of it. All she could do was watch. Much like one would watch a train accident happen before their very eyes.

She had tried. In truth she had.

However, Sarah was the Queen Mother and Val was a member of the Royal Guard.

There was little she could do.

“Your Majesty,” she purred one last time, in one last attempt to save a situation that she knew deep in her heart was not going to go well at all. “Perhaps you would prefer to go inside and I’ll bring them into the reception area?”

Everything was wrong. So very wrong.

Outside the palace was normally empty.

As it was located in the center of the capital. An old historic building from imperial days that covered numerous city blocks, was where the government was run and where King Steven resided. Press knew better than to hang around outside the imposing palace gates as the king never left out them and was uninterested in opportunities to have his picture taken. As did the Queen Mother.

And yet, that morning, a whole gaggle of photographers were lined up and waiting for the visiting royals. Or so they had shared with Val.

Her Grace, Hope van Dyne, never went anywhere without getting her picture taken. In Val’s opinion, she probably had the phone number to every tabloid office in the world.

Sarah’s voice was kind. Soft. Gentle. It made Val want to wrap her queen up in a blanket and make her go inside so she could deal with their unwelcome guests. She stood beside Val at the top of the steps of the palace, provided with a great view of the black sedan that had pulled in through the gates. The flashiest possible way to enter the palace instead of through the underground garage like everyone else.

“Oh no. That’s hardly necessary. They wanted a scene. Let us give them one.”

Not liking the sounds of that at all, her brown eyes flickered over to look at the slim woman with a head of artfully styled strawberry blonde curls, a button nose and rose petal lips. She was every bit as regal as her title, even if she had not a drop of royal blood in her body.

“You can’t think that they actually called the press to say that the Duchess Hope was the woman with His Majesty on the video from the royal banya?”

Sarah’s cool blue gaze flickered to her royal bodyguard before returning back to the sedan so she could observe her former friend climb out, followed by her raven-haired daughter who waved to the photographers on the other side of the iron gates.

That was exactly what Sarah suspected the second she’d seen it in the morning paper. Though she doubted she would ever find out who had started that rumor.

“Have you found out why they’re here?”

Grimacing, Valkyrie shook her head, unhappy to not have an answer for her queen beneath the cloudy chilly winter day. “Not yet Your Majesty. We have reached out to the Maharaja’s Staff and are waiting to hear back. Soon though we suspect.”

Any second now Val hoped her phone would ring so she could tell the queen.

Which led to Sarah turning her head to look away from her guests as they climbed the stairs. She looked away from the large fountain that the sleek luxury car was parked beside and gave her last true smile for what she suspected would be till lunch. Reaching out, she placed her hand on Valkyrie’s wrist. One of her preferred bodyguards. She’d been loyal and had on two occasions nearly given her life in service of her country. “I trust you will find out and inform me as soon as possible. Do not fret. I doubt they will be leaving anytime in the near future.”

Only a lifetime of service kept Val from cracking a smile.

Instead, her dark eyes watched the silver haired Queen of the Netherlands climb the steps towards them. Smiling. Dressed expensively with a heavy coat made from numerous small furry animals.

Queen Janet van Dyne approached as if it hadn’t been years. She came to stand beside Sarah and greet her in such a way that would make for a perfect picture. Or so Sarah noticed. She greeted her as if they were still friends who spoke frequently on the phone and still sent one another gifts. As if their children had married and everything was fine.

“Sarah! How wonderful to see you, you have not aged a day.”

Janet reached out with gloved hands trimmed in mink, leaned forward to place a polite kiss on Sarah’s cheek in greeting and was more than a little surprised when Sarah stepped away. Her own hands remaining clasped in front of her and out of Janet’s. Greeting or otherwise.

“Janet,” was all that came from Sarah’s mouth. A look went from Janet’s coat down to her dress and then shoes, pausing there before coming back up. “Is that the dress you wore to Lizzie’s grandson’s wedding?”

Surprised by the greeting, or lack thereof, Janet paused and then smiled brightly, knowing that though the cameras could not hear them they could capture this image on film. “Yes. We’re focusing on becoming sustainable out in the west. Going green isn’t merely a project meant as royal busywork.”

Sarah could actually feel Valkyrie stiffen beside her at mention of the Green Initiative that Steve had tasked her with and had been far from busywork. It was something that Sarah could go on and on about, one of her many efforts that she busied herself with and yet, she found she didn’t want to expend that much energy on her once friend.

Hands still in front of her, fingers laced together where she could feel her wedding band. Sarah tilted her head slightly to the side. “I wouldn’t know. We remain a governing monarchy here.”

Janet blanched. Her lips formed a straight line, nearly as straight as the way her spine stiffened.

Though Sarah was unable to enjoy it as she turned her attention to the daughter. Hope van Dyne. Formerly Princess Hope but now Duchess Hope, after having been stripped of her title and recently reinstated to a lesser one, in Sarah’s opinion anyway.

Hope looked lovely as ever.

Tanned. Dressed exceptionally well. Smiling exuberantly.

It almost warmed Sarah’s icy heart.

“Sarah! How are you? You look wonderful!” Exclaimed Hope, sounding genuinely thrilled to see the woman who might have been her mother-in-law had things gone differently. She stepped on up with outstretched arms and was greeted with a serene face that looked at her in confusion.

Sarah said nothing. Not a word. Sarah maintained eye contact and looked at Hope as if waiting for the younger woman to say or do something.

Thus leading to Hope blinking in confusion and lowering her arms, looking to her mother for assistance as this clearly was not the welcome she expected.

“Is something wrong,” Hope asked a bit nervously as a winter breeze ruffled the fur on her mother’s coat. Sneaking under the cashmere of her own, as she hadn’t had time to properly shop for winter here. This was her mother’s idea. It was her last hope. Her father had refused to hear her and not even her mother could plead her case this time. This was it.

“I was about to ask you the same.”

Val watched Hope’s confusion and fought hard to not say anything at all, and it was becoming painful to watch in her opinion. Her gaze veered over to all the photographers that were watching more than taking pictures. Even they seemed to realize this visit was not starting off smoothly.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

Val risked a look over at her queen. Her queen who was peering at the young woman who had referred to Val’s people as ‘war criminals’ or ‘superstitious backwoods fools.’

Unable to take another moment of it, Valkyrie cleared her throat.

Finally making Sarah take mercy on Hope who really should have known better in her opinion. “In civilized societies, a duchess would curtsey to a queen. Perhaps things are different for those who are merely ceremonial in purpose.”

***

Someone called your name and for a second, you were terrified that Wanda had come for your ass.

Not that you could blame the best friend you’d had since high school.

Upon heading into the offices of the royal palace that morning, you had intentionally avoided her , secure in the knowledge that she was pissed at you and you really did not want to have the fight you knew was coming someplace public like the office.

So, you’d been groveling via text and promising to go out with her that night for a girls night, swearing on your honor that you would tell her everything! Because Wanda was no fool.

Wanda saw the new dress you had on. Wanda saw your new shoes. Wanda noticed your perfect makeup and styled hair. Wanda also brought up the facts that you’d not been home that night or early morning, as well as the crucial one regarding your flatiron that was still in the bathroom the two of you shared.

Needless to say, you had a lot of explaining to do.

There was no getting around it. You were going to have to tell her about Steve. Sure, you’d swear her to secrecy until everything came out. The palace had made its announcement this morning about King Steven being in a relationship that he would make public soon. A second public statement had come from the Palace PR Guru, Maria Hill, stating that without a doubt, the king was not involved with Duchess Hope after a few rumors had burnt their way through the palace and news cycles.

Besides, Wanda should know. Wanda deserved to know. You and Wanda had come on this adventure post university together. Wanda had to know before it came out in the form of an official palace announcement, or else Wanda might very well skin you alive.

Hearing your name on a female tongue had you snapping up, your attention diverted away from the emails you were checking.

Wanda?

No.

It was not Wanda.

It was an Indian woman in a well-tailored pantsuit. Her dark hair was swept up in a chignon. Her lips a shade of red that had you lowkey thinking about asking for the name and shade of said lipstick. Her dark eyes bore right through you. As if spearing you from your chair and to the wall of your office.

“You are the King’s Chief of Staff?”

While your natural first instinct was to report that was what it said on your door. Professional-you put the kibosh on that right away. Inner you was somewhat intimidated by this powerful woman who looked as if she knew your every last secret.

Head held high this woman so informed you in a tone that let you know she was here for nothing less. “The Maharaja has sent us. Duchess Hope of the Netherlands has stolen from us and is here with the intention of pleading political asylum. While the Maharaja would like nothing more than to have her brought back for trial of the theft of our priceless treasures. I will settle for what was taken and no less.”

Ok. Well. Maybe you thought too soon.

Maybe Wanda was preferrable over this person.

“Oh…goody…” came from your lips with a frown.

“General Odinson sent me here. He told me that you would be able to help resolve this issue for me post haste.”

Oh of course General Fucking Thor Odinson would send this person your way so he didn’t have to deal with this international nightmare of an incident.

Letting out a deep breath, you held up a finger. “Let me just send this out real quick…what’s your name?” And you typed as quickly as humanly possible on your encrypted laptop.

“Ekta. I am with the Maharaja’s Royal Guard.”

Because of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be? Why wouldn’t Hope have stolen from the Maharaja and bounced? Though you’d never had the pleasure of meeting her face to face, you’d heard more than your share about the infamous Duchess, then Princess, Hope.

Typing. Typing. Typing.

“You’ve got any pictures or detailed descriptions of what the items stolen look like? I’m sure His Majesty will be very curious. And, you know, the more information of what we’re looking for the better.”

And done.

With a tap on your laptop, you’d sent out an email to the Finance Minister. Then up you stood.

“Of course,” Ekta answered coolly.

Not that you blamed her. If you were in her shoes, you would have been super pissed off too. Being robbed was never fun.

“Let’s go see if we can track down His Majesty. If not, we’ll make an appointment with his secretary and then go see who is in the office of our Royal Guard. Someone is always in there and I know that Carol, she’s Captain of the Guard, is working right now.” You explained, as if you felt that telling this unhappy woman all these things could somehow make everything right. Probably not. But you still had to try. It was in your nature to fix problems and you most definitely wanted to fix this problem.

Ekta said nothing.

She merely followed you out of your office and into the hallway which was lined with doors and walls of tasteful and probably expensive original art.

You looked to the left.

Then to the right and nearly died then and there at your luck.

How had you gotten so lucky?

There, mere feet away and closing, was not just Carol but His Majesty, deep in discussion about something that was irritating them both.

You had an inkling that you knew what was at the heart of their discussion.

The sight of you made them stop talking and pause in their tracks, which told you that you had been the one that they were seeking.

Before anything could be done, you bowed. “Your Majesty, just the person I was hoping to find.” Up you flourished your hand to gesture at Ekta, who you could feel was beside you, practically putting off rays of righteousness. “We have a visitor from the Maharaja’s Royal Guard. This is Ekta. She is here because of something that concerns the Duchess Hope.”

The reaction that came was almost immediate from both Steve and Carol.

A look as if Steve had suddenly smelled a dead animal came over his face. Carol however cocked her hip to the side, lifted her chin in a dark blue pantsuit, almost demanding in a knowing sort of way. “What’d she steal from you guys? Art or jewelry?”

For the first time ever, you noted a moment of Ekta’s veneer breaking. Like she was taken off balance. “The duchess stole from you too?” Then, almost as an afterthought came, “Your Majesty?”

And this was news to you too.

You had no idea that Hope had taken souvenirs with her that weren’t free to take when she fled the Royal Palace for India all those years ago.

When Steve spoke, his teeth were clearly clenched together. “Yes. Both. She raided my mother’s room as well as the halls for art and pieces that are priceless. Sacred treasures from my countries history that can never be replaced. She filled her suitcase with on her way out.”

“Every now and then an item will appear on the black market. We can only assume that she is selling them when she is in need of money.” Carol helpfully added.

Beside you, you could practically feel Ekta tremble. Shake out of control one could say.

“Is the Duchess Hope here?”

For that you had no answer.

Carol however had one. “Yes. Her Majesty is taking tea out in the gardens with the Duchess Hope and her own mother.”

After being brought abreast of that development, you had a statement to make. One you thought was obvious. But none-the-less, out it came. Maybe none of them knew? “It’s snowing outside.”

Thus leading Steve to turn his attention on you. Finally. And when he did so, he looked at you as if you were only his Chief of Staff. He looked at you kindly without the heat in his eyes from earlier that morning, when he’d woken you up by pushing himself deep into your body until the both of you reached a climax that made your eyes cross and left an impression of his teeth broken into your shoulder.

“Yes. Mother wanted to be sure that the Duchess Hope did not steal anything else from within the palace walls whilst they are here.”

Well then.

Even you had to admit. The Queen Mother could be downright frosty when the occasion called for it. Pun intended.

“She’s having tea with Queen Janet and Duchess Hope outside? In the frigid temperatures?”

You couldn’t quite make yourself believe it. You blinked. You looked from Steve who appeared casual after his statement, like he just told you the winters here were cold. Over to Carol who was pulling out her phone from her pocket. Acting like you hadn’t said anything out of the normal.

“Your Majesty, I’ll take care of Ekta and deal with this issue. If anything arrives concerning this issue. I will contact you. Nakia will come fill my place today.”

If Steve was greatly upset by any of his, he made no outward indication of it other than a nod of his head that he both heard and understood and accepted what Carol had told him. His attention was instead focused on you.

“I have a meeting concerning the Switzerland trip about the proposed embassy. Go get your notes. You’ll be joining me.”

***

Her Grace, the Duchess Hope van Dyne, had finally made it in the palace after that psycho, the Queen Mother Sarah, had the audacity to serve tea in the garden as flakes of snow drifted down. And if that weren’t barbaric enough, afterwards, she then led them around the winter garden as if Hope gave a damn.

Hope had problems and Queen Sarah was not very receptive to any of her attempts to thaw the ice that had formed around Sarah’s heart. Nor did her mother, Janet, have much luck.

When did Sarah turn into such a bitch?

Sarah should have been ecstatic that Hope would even return to this shithole. Sarah’s son was still single, he needed a queen and his backwoods hovel wanted a queen and Hope had royal blood. What more did Sarah need? Did she need it written down?

When did Sarah turn into such a horrible host?

Hope remembered a distinctively different Sarah. When she had lived in this palace, Steve’s mother had coddled her, practically waited on her hand and foot to be sure that Hope was happy and settling in so far from civilization. Where was that Sarah now?

Somehow, Hope had managed to break away, pleading a need to use the powder room around the time her toes and fingers went numb. As she hadn’t had the time to properly shop for clothes to wear in this frigid shithole. India had been so gloriously warm. She’d loved India. Hope would have loved to stay there but things had gone south.

Eventually, like everything else, it’d blow over.

Until then though, she needed someplace safe to stay. She needed to stay somewhere that the Maharaja couldn’t get her. What she needed was diplomatic immunity. However, that wasn’t going to happen since her father refused to even see her, so she’d just have to settle for sovereign immunity. Granted, Hope hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to see Steven and tell him that she was ready to get married now. For crying out loud, he should have been groveling at her feet for her to come back to him. Especially after that sex tape which had been burning up the internet and royal circles. If there was anything that Hope could do, it was bounce back from a scandal.

This was just ridiculous.

The Queen Mother should have been inviting them to this lunch with her son, instead of practically throwing Hope and Janet out. Which was exactly why Hope was wandering the halls in the search for Steven’s office. Toes tingling in her fashionable pumps. Her fingers burning from the warm air in the administrative offices.

Hope would need a whole new wardrobe once she got Steven onboard with her plan. As his current plan of ignoring the sex tape was absurd. These things needed to be tackled head on. With her as his queen by his side, Hope could handle all of it.

Ah, she found herself pleased at the sight of the royal seal over a doorway marking it as the king’s office.

Valkyrie followed her closely. That bitch.

As soon as Hope was queen, she’d be one of the first on the firing block. Following her around like some manner of commoner who might fill their pockets with royal gold. It was absurd. Hope was born a princess and one day she would become one again.

Hope remembered Valkyrie from when she was a young member of the guard and now, she was a Captain and just as irreprehensible as Carol, who Hope also despised. Both of them had to go. Reaching out with a hand that held a ring belonging to the sister of the Maharaja, Hope opened the door and marched right into the office of Steven’s secretary. Who was apparently gone for lunch.

Not that the room was empty.

Nakia, who had been seated on a couch in the office, stood. Dressed in a dark blue suit that all the royal guard wore. Her face stony at the sight of Hope and then darkened further in disgust. She stood tall. Regally. Holding her head high when she spoke down to the former princess. “The king is busy.”

Not that Hope would settle for anything less than seeing Steven in person immediately. She stepped forward. “The king is having lunch with his mother in fifteen minutes. I know for a fact he’s not doing anything of importance. Get out of my way, or I’ll have you selling souvenirs from a cart outside the palace when I am queen.”

At such a statement, Nakia found herself wanting to both laugh and spit in the face of this western woman. One who had referred to her people and country as little more than a backwoods hellhole full of illiterate stone pounders.

How often Nakia had dreamt of being so close to the Duchess Hope, how she thought of ripping out this woman’s forked tongue.

“Let her in,” came Valkyrie’s voice in their native tongue from the eastern regions of the land.

Sending Nakia’s dark eyes past Hope. A knowing expression claimed her features. “His Majesty is in there waiting for our queen.”

A shrug came from the senior guardswoman.

Nakia would be the first to admit, she had not been hopeful when the crown prince had been coronated as a teenager. No one in the country had been particularly hopeful but now, nearly everyone supported their king. His Majesty was a good king who served them all as much as they served him.

Nakia was protective of her king. She wanted her king to marry his Chief of Staff yesterday. Her land was in need of a queen, a woman’s touch one could say.

Knowing what was at stake with the coming lunch that her king would attend with his mother and lover, a visit from the Duchess Hope would not put him in the best of moods. The Queen Mother always grew quiet when King Steven was in such a mood. Why would Nakia allow such a thing to happen?

“Perhaps if he tells her she isn’t wanted here she’ll leave sooner? Let her in. That is an order.”

Pursing her lips unhappily, Nakia stepped back.

She wasn’t about to open the door to His Majesty’s office for this interloper. However, she would no longer stand in the way. Nakia even made sure to send a look that screamed impending homicidal violence. Spurring Hope quickly through the door without another syllable directed at Nakia.

Which was fine with Hope.

Hope couldn’t get away from Nakia quick enough.

Wanting distance sent Hope into the king’s large office without much thought. Looking as if it belonged in an old Victorian estate with dark wood, so many books, old art and thick dark Turkish Rugs.

What Hope did not expect was how much the prince had grown.

No longer a gangly young man whose mother had to have padding sewn into the robes that he was coronated in. This man sitting at his desk was big in every way. Exuding power in a manner that most could only dream and for a second, seeing Steven look at her with shocking blue eyes and stubble darkening his face, she was rendered speechless.

“What do you want Hope,” came Steven’s voice, more than a little annoyed. Far more emotion than she’d ever seen from the young man. Who was now very obviously a man.

This was not the Steven she remembered.

Before her was not the young man she remembered at all. Every last bit of him was very much a king and Hope suddenly, possibly for the first time in her life, found herself regretting many of the past choices she made. It seemed her mother was right. She’d been far too hasty in her youth. Her mother had told her that the prince would mature like a fine wine. Hope had written that off as nonsense meant to trap her into an arranged marriage like so many women before her.

Now?

Now she was looking at a tall powerful man close a very modern looking laptop and turn his attention on her in such a way that made her gut coil. What would it have been like to be the woman in the video? And where the hell did that thought come from? She had been wrong. So so very wrong.

Finally, gathering herself, Hope peered around the office and fussed at the pearl buttons on her coat. “I saw the video…” A noise came from Steven that she’d never heard before, yet, she went on. “…and since we’re still technically engaged, I thought I would return to help you put out the fires of this scandal.”

Another noise came from the king, a derisive snort.

“Wow. That’s cute. Highly amusing coming from you.” Though there was no hint of heat or passion in his words that had been so evident on that video. In her opinion, he didn’t even sound bored. Worse. Steven then leaned back in his seat, peered around her and asked, “Who let you in here?”

Those words, those uncaring words as if she were little more than the two guards outside his office made her burn, bristle.

Which had Hope clearing her throat, bristling one could say. “Actually, it’s more than cute. If you recall, I come from a distinguished royal house. Our engagement is a legally binding agreement.”

For the reaction she got, she might as well have told him it was showing outside.

As she was prone to when there was silence that needed to be filled, Hope pushed the waves of dark hair over her shoulder. She shifted from one foot to the other and watched Steven lean back in his chair.

Finally, as if sensing that she wasn’t going to leave, Steve offered her a shrug. Finding the mere sight of her numbing. He could have cared less what she did one way or the other. So long as she stayed out of his room. He had valuable things in there that he was fond of. “I’m not marrying you. Do with that as you will, you’ll find no sanctuary here.”

This was most certainly not the Steven that she had left all those years ago. It took Hope a second to collect herself, to steel herself. No one had spoken to her in such a way in quite a while. Her brain screamed at her that damage control needed to be done but she was not sure how. In what way? What did she say?

Hope’s brain screamed at her that the plan was failing, everything was going wrong. This was not supposed to happen this way and now she was failing horrendously. What did she do? How could she fix this?

Pricks of pain came from her fists as her nails dug into her palms. Telling Hope that when she unclenched her fists, she would see blood. “You have to marry me!”

Oh this was bad.

This was really really bad.

Across the expanse of his desk, Steve remained calm. Almost to the point of uncaring and such demeanor was reflected in his words. In the way his broad shoulders shrugged and how he rubbed his rough cheek, as if that were more interesting.

“I do not need or want your assistance for anything, forget that video. There is no reason for me to be ashamed of it.”

“Steven! Listen!”

He could see the desperation on her face, hear it in her voice and after so long, he wished he could say that it was rewarding. He wished that he could say it made him feel better after everything that had happened.

It didn’t.

There was just nothing. Little more than cold numbness. Steve felt absolutely nothing.

Nothing was there anymore.

When he looked at Hope there was nothingness.

It reminded him of his father. He hated when he felt that way, when he thought of his father. There was no one on this earth that Steve loathed more. It was his very purpose for being, to not be his father. To end that cycle. To let it die with him.

Most irritably, he shifted in his seat. His eyes found the picture of you both on his desk from a trip to Scotland.

Hints of his father swirled with every syllable only furthering his inner revulsion with himself, his genes and heritage.

“When you left, I did not officially break our engagement as a common courtesy to your father. No more no less. I am a king. You cannot compel me to do anything.”

Pools of blue found Hope again though. A little bit of serene malice hovered between them.

“If you continue to be an annoyance, I will. I am a king now. I have a country to govern. I do not have time for the childish games and pursuits that occupy the western families.”

“Steven this is serious! I could go to prison! In India!”

May his ancestors help him, his first initial response would have been to remind her of her place, remind her of how he should be addressed.

His Majesty.

Exactly as his father would, he swore he heard his father’s voice in his ear.

“You have to help me out! I’m begging you! I don’t care about that other woman. You can have all the mistresses you want!”

A peek down at his watch told Steve that he had minutes to wrap this up and go collect you. Minutes. He had minutes to regain his sanity before he saw his mother.

Minutes.

“Steven!”

Standing from his chair, he shook his head. Doing his best to silence the sound of his father telling him he was not good enough, was not worthy, was not fit to rule. His voice was soft because Steve would not yell like that man. “No Hope. I’m sorry, but no. You remind me of my father. You make me feel like him. You bring him back to life and I cannot live with his ghost. So no. You will have to deal with the consequences of your actions like the rest of us.”

Her eyes went wild.

Steve could see it and was glad he wasn’t within reach of her. He watched her grab a Fabergé Egg from the end of his desk.

Colorful glass accented in gold with rubies around the middle. It fit in her hand but only just, being the size of an ostrich egg and then it went soaring through the air where it smashed loudly into a wall. Denting the dark wood and shattering. Smashing into dozens and dozens of colorful pieces that fell to the floor.

Having felt the very loss of hope itself, she turned to set her storm on him. “You’ll regret this, Your Majesty.” Before turning and leaving, slamming his office door behind her as hard as possible. Leaving Steve with the sound of his father telling him that he wasn’t worthy.

***

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

It was a question for the ages.

A swipe or two of lipstick always gave you the courage you needed in any occasion. But then again, this was not merely any occasion. This was lunch with your boyfriends mother to officially meet her and get to know her, because you were in a serious committed relationship with her son. Because you loved her son.

Oh, and her son was the king, so there were expectations on that already plus with her being the Queen Mother, that was sorta already an expectation of its own.

Lipstick?

No lipstick?

You wanted to look your best because the Queen Mother always looked immaculate. But you also didn’t want to risk getting lipstick on your teeth. Leading you to peer once more into the bathroom mirror.

No. No lipstick. If you put on lipstick you’d be thinking about your lipstick and you needed to focus on making a good impression.

Otherwise, your makeup looked fabulous. Really. Five stars. Two thumbs up.

This had you stuffing your makeup back into your purse and kinda sorta looking up when the bathroom door opened, shut and was locked. Because really. Why would the door be locking?

In the art deco styled bathroom, Steve’s form was very clear and your eyebrows shot up.

Luckily, you were alone, considering how beyond pissed off he looked. One hundred and ten percent not fit to have lunch with his mother. Not with him in this condition.

You had no idea what happened, but something had happened.

He crossed the red and white marble tiled floor. Walked past the gilded edged stalls and stained-glass doors to where you stood at one of four sinks with bronze fixtures and ornately framed mirrors.

To be honest, it was your favorite bathroom of all time. Your Instagram was full of pictures of this bathroom, selfies in this bathroom, up-close pictures of the stained glass.

“Are you ok?”

Beneath his smoothly shaven face, his jaw twitched. “Fine. Are you ready?”

He was tense enough you wouldn’t have been shocked if his joints started to pop, or his teeth cracked from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Seeing him like this was a no go for Queen Sarah. Everyone knew that she hated to see her son like this and at first you never knew why, not until someone had told you that her husband had the same mannerisms. Steve’s father done the same thing when he had been angry.

While it was common knowledge that Steve was not his father, Steve would never hit his mother.

Some memories could just never be wiped clean.

Having Steve like this was not how you wanted this first lunch with his mother to go. Not one bit. Both of them needed to be on cloud fucking nine. Meaning you were going to have to do something.

“Almost,” was what you told him. A plan already set into motion as you grabbed a few paper towels from the bronze dish that held them between sinks.

One last peek at your hair and you were set. Purse in hand. You stepped on over to press your lips to the flat firm line that was Steve’s mouth. “Could you hold this for me?”

Steve never questioned you or thought twice.

Whether it was from love or trust, or he was too angry over whatever? No one would ever know.

But you seized the moment! Pounced on the opportunity.

You acted as if you were going to check your pumps and instead, set down the paper towels so you could kneel at his feet. Before Steve even had a second to think about it, you had his pants unbuttoned, unzipped and down around his knees. Knowing that the king went commando that morning worked seamlessly into your plan.

His dick hung softly between his muscular creamy thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold my purse with both hands, Your Majesty.”

Though soft, his size was still above average. His penis was solid. Thick. A pink tip peeked out beneath foreskin that was stretched over his member. Soft as velvet, you kissed his slit as you pushed his foreskin up to reveal his shaft.

“Remember the first time I ever saw your dick?”

You sank down on his soft flesh after, sucking him in till nearly all of him fit in your mouth. It rarely happened. Only when he wasn’t erect. When Steve was erect, it wasn’t physically possible unless you unhinged your jaw and didn’t have a gag reflex.

“Oh god…” he gasped out at the warm and wet sensation of your mouth closing around him. Cold air on his ass cheeks. Exposed. Vulnerable. His sac hanging heavy and you down on your knees, taking nearly all of him in your mouth.

Steve clung to your purse like a lifeline.

Thinking back, you hummed out thoughtfully, knowing how fantastic the vibrations felt on him. Knowing that the warm softness that was his dick would soon harden. Until then, you enjoyed how you could take him like this. You relished the smell of him, musky and male. Savored how smooth his skin was on your tongue. Reached up and cupped his testicles that hung down for you.

It’d been at a fundraiser.

A black-tie affair for something or another, who could remember?

The two of you had stolen away towards the end, snuck off when everyone was mingling together and socializing. Slightly tipsy or buzzed from the open bar.

Not the two of you.

No.

Both of you had barely drank. Focused instead on getting away so you could steal some moments together. Moments like these. Moments where your hands were all over one another, your mouths hungry for one another. Frantic for that connection between your bodies that nature demanded and you both were trying so hard to make happen.

Tonight was the night though.

You were determined.

Sucking him deep. Swirling your tongue around him. You could feel Steve starting to thicken up which had you popping off his mouth and surveying the sight of his dick taking on a pinkish hue as blood filled it.

“Are you thinking about it, Your Majesty? About how fucking big your cock is? About how it shocked me? Remember?”

Based alone on the sound that came from Steve, you could deduce that he remembered. Possibly even vividly.

“I remember,” you cooed, licking his pink head and suckling on the end of his dick. Flicking against the hole with your tongue. Massaging his balls. Taking his hardening shaft in your other hand. Needing him to feel only you. Needing him to be here with you. “It was the biggest dick I’d ever seen in my life.”

”You don’t have to.” He had whispered to you in a dark corner of the atrium. Hidden by plants and furniture.

Not that you’d cared.

By that point he had gone down on your countless times and you’d never seen it. Only feeling it through his pants when you’d made-out or groped him, when your bodies rubbed against one another in a frantic urge for completion.

“Jesus Christ Steve! You’re the only man I know who doesn’t want his dick sucked.”

“It’s not that…” he came back with, pausing and finally giving in, allowing you to unzip the black pants of his tux and yank them down. Pull them down and out it popped.

Erect.

Hard. So hard.

Foreskin drawn back to reveal an angry red head smeared with pre-cum.

It was massive, a beast, the hugest dick you’d ever laid eyes on and from on your knees, in a ballgown, made up to feel like a princess. You gasped. You straight up gasped like you were a teenage girl seeing your very first penis. Albeit, the one that was so full of blood it bobbed eye level with you, pointing upwards, was considerably more impressive and probably five inches longer than that first ever dick, easy. As you didn’t exactly have a tape measure on you for comparison.

“Oh my god…” you whispered, well aware that your eyes were wide and mouth was very likely a perfect O. “It’s so big! It’s like the biggest I’ve ever seen! Steve your dick is huge! What do you feed it?”

His voice was a bit concerned. Embarrassed even?

Was he embarrassed about this behemoth in his pants?

“I’m sorry, I know. It can be uncomfortable to give me oral sex. You really don’t have to. I don’t expect.”

But you had cut him off with grabby hands wrapping around his erection, pushing up his foreskin and licking the salty jizz that was starting to ooze out. “Shut up, Your Majesty. Tell me how you want it.” In your ministrations you had lifted up his generous manhood and set eyes upon the heavy balls that hung down between his thighs. “Holy Canada! You have a set of balls to match. You have no idea how much fun I’m going to have fitting those in my mouth.”

When you finally ripped your eyes away from his sexual organ, you shook your head and admonished him severely. “I cannot believe you’d keep this from me!”

Exactly how you knew Steve liked, you sucked on his head and played with the tip of your tongue on his hole. You took him as deep as you could as his erection grew harder and harder in your mouth. Tracing your tongue along the sides and pumping him with your hand until his girth grew so wide, you were unable to touch your fingertips around him.

Up and down you sank on his cock. Till he was rigid beneath your lips and you drug your teeth along at times to heighten the sensation.

Slurping. Squeezing his balls. Hollowing out your cheeks and swallowing any salty release that began to dribble out. You savored the sight of his fingers clenching your purse tightly and his eyes screwed shut.

Between languid trips up and down his length, you pulled off to lick his blunt tip with the flat of your tongue.

“What are you thinking about, My King?”

At first, you didn’t think he would or could answer, which was fine. Your attention was on the round edge of his organ. Licking it. Flicking it with your tongue. Playing with it till you sank back down.

After a few seconds.

After a deep breath from Steve.

After that, he managed to get out.

“Thinking about that night. The night I took your maidenhead.”

Your maidenhead?

Well, that was a trip to past. It sent your eyes up and your mouth back off him so you could speak without a mouth full of dick. “Mmm. Thinking about how you went crazy? How you went all feral and popped my cherry?”

In your hand his penis twitched.

It was too perfect an opportunity to not pounce upon it.

If you couldn’t make him come from saying these filthy disgusting true things to him, did you really deserve to marry this man? “Your Majesty? Does it turn you on to think about my having been a virgin? About how you’re the only man to ever be in my body? Do you remember how tight I was? How hard you had to push to break my hymen?”

Little motions came from Steve. Whether he knew it or not. He was making small thrusts into your mouth that you hummed around, sucked on.

Something hit the floor.

Hands were on your head, fingers were in your hair. A wicked smile curled over your lips and Steve was methodically pumping into your mouth.

He sounded strained. He sounded like he was in pain.

“Felt so good. You’re so good to me. My angel. You were so tight.” He declared, announced, would have shouted to the heavens if he was capable. Each word came out in cadence. Almost in a chant. “Felt so good. Feels so good still. You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.” On top of feeling you sucking him deep. Paired with your fingers holding his testicles tight. Mixed with your fist wrapped around his base. It was a glorious storm coming together to make him shatter.

Steve was going to come. He was going to come like right now.

It sent his thoughts spiraling along with his words.

“Love you. Love your body. Love being in you. So warm and tight and mine. All mine. All of you is mine. Want you. Want to fill you. Want want want.”

Gasping out. His breath gone. All air left his lungs when Steve climaxed into your mouth. A pitched noise did come that was followed with his fingers pulling your face against him, his pelvis pushing into you. A moan that made him weak in the knees followed that told him you were pleased with him. You were happy.

If he died in the next moment, he would have been a happy man.

All Steve could feel was pleasure. It consumed him body. It whited out his mind. It made his balls empty into the warmth of your mouth, till he was certain that nothing remained.

Even then you weren’t done.

Helpless. Awestruck.

Hopelessly devoted, Steve watched you drag your tongue around him to clean him up. Catching the last few spurts of ejaculate on your tongue before you showed him, then swallowed his seed.

Rendering him panting and sweaty.

He dropped down onto his knees and he kissed you. Mindless. Unable to think about anything else other than your mouth and being lucky enough to have convinced you to be his woman. Steve kissed you deeply, uncaring about the fact he could taste himself, unconcerned when his tongue curled around yours that he might have gotten some of his own ejaculate. His Majesty didn’t care.

Nor was he overly concerned about his knees being on the cold marble tile when he groaned against your mouth. “Love you. Love you so much. Love you to the moon and back.”

[notanotherinfjblog]

The types as strangers I wish I had known (version 4)

Previous versions: One, two, three

INTJ: She was the first person to show me kindness in a new place. Moving across the country all alone in the middle of a pandemic is not exactly the ideal start of your first real job. So she took it all on herself to take me by the hand, to organise all the things that I had no clue about. She gave me a little tour around the workplace, recommended me places to eat once the pandemic is over, asked me about how I was settling in, remembered little things I mentioned. She was the only person not working from home when I first arrived and so it was just the two of us. She was quiet and reserved as most people here seem to be, and she was awkward in every way when interacting with me. But she tried so hard and maybe it’s just me projecting, but she said her son was in the very same situation as me right now, and it felt like she tried to help me in the way she couldn’t help her son, like she wanted to take me under her wing, but not make it awkward, and then actually making it slightly awkward in doing so. Her heart just felt warm and so did mine when I said thank you.

ENTJ: Everyone knows the classic character of a self-righteous doctor in a hospital show. You know that one. The one that everyone thinks may be hard-working and clever, but heartless and uncaring and egocentric, but a few episodes down the line you start to see that there is more going on underneath the rude attitude. I’ve always believed this to be a stereotypical depiction that is more of a caricature until I met her. She was a doctor at a hospital I stayed in, and damn, she was just like that. She stormed into the rooms, rolled her eyes at a patient whose German was bad, even though she had a thick accent herself, couldn’t be bothered to commit to polite standards of communication like saying hello or thanks, and she didn’t care to wait for just a second when a nurse was in her way and pushed her aside instead. Especially two young nurses were exasperated with her and complained about her as soon as she stormed out of the room. They really made me feel like I had gotten myself into a hospital show as a patient, it was fantastic. And I have to say, even though this young doctor had all of these flaws, she was the only one that actually talked to the patients and explained what was going on, hell she even talked to that woman’s daughter on the phone for a few minutes because the woman didn’t understand the language. Just like on tv, she may have been rude, but at least she seemed like a good doctor.

INTP: My university department held a conference and I was responsible for making sure that all these professors and PhD students didn’t die from their coffee cravings, so I spent most of my time running around with giant coffee cans. And I have to admit, among all the scientists that were roaming the halls, I couldn’t help but stare at him. He was a PhD student from the Netherlands and there was just something about him that did not fit in. You know how professors are often a bit eccentric or strange by normal standards (which explains why we had to explain to an unspeakable amount of them how a coffee can works), so you’d imagine he’d fit right in. But he didn’t. He was his own universe. While everyone was networking, he was studying the research posters in silence. Not because he was too shy, he seemed very comfortable in his own skin. He just didn’t seem to care all that much about other people. I got to listen to a few talks and as he sat in front of me, I saw him play a video game. At an international conference. With professors and colleagues sitting behind him. And he still managed to ask intelligent questions about the talk afterwards. No idea how. Part of me wished I could have talked to him, not because he was cute though he was, but rather because I really could not tell you what kind of person he was. Was he a good person? A bad one? Probably something in-between. But I don’t think my opinion would have fazed him all that much, since to me, he seemed like the kind of person that valued his own opinion on himself the most, and I think that’s a good thing that he’s got there.

ENTP: I had just moved to a different city in a completely different part of the country, and I had just gotten back from my first walk around town. Sounds exciting, but I got back to this unfamiliar flat that I was supposed to call home now and I was panicking. So I stepped out on the balcony hoping the cold air and the stars above could calm my nerves. But it wasn‘t them that did. I stood there in the dark and saw an elderly couple in the parking lot. The woman was in a very similar mental state as me. She was running around their car and was talking about all the things they still had to take care of and things they‘d need, but had forgotten, and her voice got higher and shakier with every word. And then her husband just went and hugged her. She kissed him goodbye three times and every time she did, he let out a little laugh, calm and gentle. He pat her on the back and said that everything was going to be okay, that they would see each other again tomorrow. She kissed him goodbye one last time before she drove away, and I stood there alone in the dark and thanked the universe that I was there at the right time to hear this old man‘s words. For some reason he always seems to appear every time I‘m feeling low and strikes up a little chat with me. And every time he leaves, I have already forgotten what I was sad about.

INFJ: I think everyone pursuing an academic career has this one hero, this one scientist that lit the spark in their heart to dedicate their life to science just like them. I know I have one. So when I started an internship at his lab with one of his colleagues, I didn‘t really expect to meet him. I had seen him around once in a while, yes, but who was I to approach a stranger to tell him what his work meant to me? But then came the plenary meeting that was meant to get more people of the lab to get to know one another - and he approached me. He sat down next to me, asked me about my academic past and future, asked about my current project with his colleague. And I still can‘t believe it. Only a little girl singing in the church choir who is suddenly approached by Beyoncé can hope to imagine what it felt like. He was an internationally renowned scientist, he would have had every reason to look down on the rest of us. Many of them certainly do. But here he was, talking to a little intern from abroad. He was such a genuinely nice person, was sweet and slightly awkward, he even mirrored my weird head nodding that I always do when all the words have left me. He felt like a kindred spirit. I didn‘t tell him what these few minutes talking to him meant to me though part of me wishes that I did, yet still he invited me to the meetings of his research team even though I was not a part of it. And when I came and sat down, he turned around, smiled at me and turned away again, and I can‘t tell you how insane it feels that all of this actually happened.

ENFJ: I’ve written about him before and I will write about him forever. I remember the day our eyes first met in that crowded school corridor almost half of my life ago. I don’t know why neither of us could look away that day, why neither of us could ever look away again from this day on. Somehow our eyes always found each other. I remember the snowy day at the train station so many years later, how he stood there alone in the cold and how he slowly walked towards me, his eyes glued to his feet that abruptly stopped right next to mine. And yet he stayed silent. As did I. So we stood there for an hour waiting for our train, quickly averting our eyes every time they came close to meeting. I remember him looking back at me over his shoulder once we got off the train. He seemed quite flustered that I was about to find out that he had parked his car right next to mine and so he fled. Both of us kept parking our cars next to each other, even when we didn’t see each other for months. But I could never follow him out. He was my own personal mystery. I spent countless nights staring at the ceiling wondering what it was, this strange thing that was going on between us, this little secret that we shared, and I wondered who he really was inside, not who he pretended to be in front of his friends. He was like an island in their midst, always a bit detached, always tucked away behind a smile. Soon twelve years will have passed and still we’ve never spoken a word, but somehow these dark brown eyes still feel more familiar than my own, these eyes that always seemed to look right into my soul. I could have stared at them my whole life. I honestly have no idea what it is that is tying me to him, what it is that I felt back then and what I’m feeling right now. Maybe I’ll never know. I haven’t seen him in three years, but I know our paths will cross again some day. I can feel it in my bones. This story is not over yet. Maybe then we’ll finally be ready to meet properly. Maybe then we’ll finally be able to speak. 

INFP: I happened to stand at the window when I saw the new postman approach our letterbox, and so I watched him throw letters and magazines inside - and stop. He moved his head closer to the box and a frown appeared on his face. He backed off, wanted to leave, came back again and didn’t seem to know what he was supposed to do. So he rang the doorbell. As I opened the door, there he was, shy and with slight panic in his eyes. “I’m so sorry”, he said. “There is a sign on your letterbox that you don’t want advertisements, but I saw that too late and I had already thrown it in. I’m terribly sorry. I can’t get it out of the box and so I thought, I should ask if that’s alright.” And my heart just went awwww, that’s adorable. I smiled at him and told him that it was absolutely fine. He seemed so relieved. So he went away and I closed the door.

ENFP: This is for the man with the kind, but heartbreakingly sad eyes who sometimes sits in front of the train station silently begging for money. This is for the grandparents who spent their train ride trying to teach their little grandchildren the numbers from one to five. This is for the old woman who always kneels down in the middle of the train station with her forehead pressed to the ground, keeping still for hours, enduring the devastation of thousands of people passing by without stopping. This is for the woman who knelt down next to a homeless man, who took his hand and asked how she could help him. This is for the man who made faces at the little boy sitting next to him on the train to make him laugh. This is for the anger I felt when I saw the distraught face of a 10-year-old boy coming out of the movie „1917“ at the cinema with his father. This is for the happy little puppy who lives next to the bakery where I usually grab my lunch. This is for the twenty people who decided to all speak a foreign language during a meeting with each other just because I was there too, a total stranger they had never even seen before who is bad at their native language. This is for the creep that asked me in the middle of the street at night to accompany him. This is for the two teenagers who went to buy sandwiches and coffee for a homeless woman. This is for the families I often see sitting at the train stations, sometimes with a baby in their arms, holding a sign saying „Syrian family. We are hungry, help us please.“ This is for the man who yelled at his girlfriend because she gave them some money. This is for the people who play music during everyone‘s morning commute on the train. This is for all the people who approached me speaking in French and started to laugh when I apologised for not being very good at it. This is for Paris, in all its beauty and all its ugliness. This is for humanity, in all its beauty and ugliness.

ISTJ: He was sitting alone on the train, looking out of the window while listening to something with headphones. He was a tall guy in his mid-20s, one with a full beard, long brown hair in a neat ponytail, and a t-shirt of some rock band that I had never heard of. So, I was sitting there, three meters away, minding my own business, when I suddenly heard a giggle. The entire car of the train had been quiet all this time as it usually is, so I looked up and saw this guy trying to contain his laughter. He pressed the lips together, scratched his nose in order to inconspicuously cover his mouth. I don’t know where this sudden burst of laughter came from. Maybe he was listening to an audio book and reached a funny part. Maybe he was listening to a voice message of a funny friend. Maybe he just had a very amusing thought, I don’t know. But I’ve always had a soft spot for people who randomly start laughing in public and get embarrassed about it cause it’s always, always adorable.

ESTJ: She was a PhD student at my university and she was the one who mainly organised the conference that the above mentioned INTP was attending, too. And even though she didn‘t get tired of complaining about how much work this all was, how typical it was of her boss to volunteer to hold the conference at our university and then not lifting a single finger, she was like a fish in the water, not out of it. She observed everything and everyone, immediately recognised little problems or things that could become a problem, she was constantly running around checking everything, and she kept so many things in mind, it was impressive. One of the attendees sat in a wheelchair and as soon as she noticed, she made us rebuild the entire cafeteria immediately so that everything was reachable for her. And in all the running around, all the obligatory smalltalk, all the stress, she still found the time to stand with us student helpers and joke around.

ISFJ: It was 6pm on a Friday afternoon when all of Paris was trying to get home in the middle of a train strike, so the trains that did run were even more crowded than usual. I did not enjoy sharing 5 square metres with almost 40 other people. But then he entered the train and stood right next to me, leaning against the doors without moving, looking like an intellectual in gangster clothes. We were surrounded by noise of people talking and of rails screaming, by strangers breathing onto our skin, and he just stood there unfazed by it all. He radiated calmness like I‘ve never seen anyone do before. Soon it reached me too, filled me up and left no place for any distress or anxiety. He was like an island in the storm that grew and grew and grew until all of the 40 people around him were safe. I felt safe. I don‘t think he has even the faintest clue about how special he is, but I feel like it has been a privilege to have crossed paths with him.

ESFJ: Did you ever meet someone who, on first glance, looks like the perfect example of a jock, just a short guy with bigger arms than he’s tall? But then you look again, take a closer look at him and you realise that his face has goodness written all over it. He may be horribly bad at grammar for a linguistics student and he may be a bit too sensitive for his own good, but he never made it a secret of how much of a sweetheart he really is. And in situations like these, when he talks about how emotional he got as a tutor when his student told him about a dying grandfather because he felt responsible for the student’s wellbeing, in situations like these, when he approaches my friend after a class to apologise for his harsh criticism of her presentation and to tell her that he didn’t mean it that way, to which she gets all confused because she didn’t take the slightest offence to anything he has ever said in his entire life and he mumbles that he may have to stop beating himself up about stuff like this, I just want to give him a hug and never let go. 

ISTP: I saw her on the metro during rush hour in Paris, and I immediately noticed her to be different. Everyone else always only stares at their phones or into space, everyone else always look like a tired zombie. She was not a zombie. She was leaning against the doors, shaking her leg in the rhythm of the music she was listening to. She was short and skinny, and not even her punk boots could hide that, but there was such a confidence shining out of her, a confidence in who she was that made her look like a giant. She looked like she‘s probably had it rather rough in life, but it didn‘t break her. She rose to the adversity, rose in spite of it all. She seemed to be capable of so many things. Intelligent enough to go into science if she ever wanted to, vicious enough to end someone who ever dared to cross her, warm enough to love deeply and with all her heart if she let it.

ESTP: It was a hot day and far hotter than a September afternoon ever should be. I was stuck in a traffic jam in the city, melting in my car as were so many others, waiting for that red light to finally turn green. And then he came, a young guy in an ugly shirt and with a hat on his head. He started to cross the street, but then stopped right there in the middle. And he started to juggle. In the middle of a traffic jam on a Friday afternoon, he juggled. Just before his green light turned to red, he bowed down to the cars a few times, and then jumped to the sidewalk and left. Thanks, mate, you enigmatic juggling traffic hero.

ISFP: I met him at a wedding. He was a bald man in his 70s with thick horn glasses and probably the most intimidating person I’ve ever met. Not because he was mean, but because he was so confident in himself and so observant. His gaze constantly changed direction. He took everything in that happened around him, he didn’t miss a single thing that was going on, and still he was calm and sure of himself that everyone at our table felt like they had to impress him in some way. Just by looking at him you knew he must have lived an extraordinary life and he really did. He liked talking about himself. He talked about living in the American desert, on a mediterranean island, in a Buddhist monastery, and on a cruise ship. He talked about the smell of the desert at night, about the taste of oranges picked from a tree. He talked about the people he met, about professors and musicians, about cooks and monks. He talked about how much his village loved him. But he also liked listening to others talk about their own lives. It was obvious that he treated life as an experience, as a journey that cannot be planned or imagined, only lived. When we said goodbye, he looked me right in the eye and told me that he thinks it’s great what I’m doing with my life and that he’s looking forward to meeting me again some day. It felt a bit like receiving praise from a deity. 

ESFP: He was a nurse in the accident and emergency department at the hospital and the first person to talk to me while I was waiting in front of an examination room. He was only passing by with a colleague, but he stopped the conversation when he saw me and put his hand on my shoulder. “Aw, sugarmouse, what happened to you?”, was the first thing he said to me. You know, if an unknown man in his 50s is coming towards you and calls you “sugarmouse”, you’re usually not exactly happy, but he was just an overwhelmingly non-threatening guy that called all of the nurses and doctors by kitschy nicknames and radiated warmth wherever he went. He had noticed that I was nervous, and so he came to me and tried to gently put my mind at ease and I was really grateful for it.

[how2skinatiger]

In 2015, the killing of a lion in Zimbabwe’s Matabeleland North province created a perfect global storm of protest, with major titles such as the New York Times, Los Angeles Times and many others running front-page outrage pieces on the incident. Western animal rights activists, enraged by the hunting of the lion, demanded action from their governments against trophy hunting with France and the Netherlands responding by banning the importation of trophies into their countries.

The United States went further, with airlines there refusing to carry animal trophies and the legislature passing the Cecil Act restricting imports of lion and other species’ trophies.

Lions have been hunted before, either as problem animals or as part of trophy hunting activities throughout the region and since the turn of the last century. This particular lion, given the name Cecil, had gained a global audience of fans through wildlife films and high profile wildlife research.

The anger at his killing, in a legal hunt, led to death threats and attacks against the US citizen who shot him and resulted in a storm of anti-African, often racist and condescending rhetoric about regional countries’ wildlife management programmes.

Technically known as anthropomorphism, the extension of human attributes, including names, personalities that even include deceit and guile, is a popular mechanism for the producers of wildlife documentaries, helping audiences in Western countries identify with the animals they are enthralled by but will likely never encounter in real life.

Cecil in Zimbabwe, Scarface in Kenya and Sekoti in Botswana are the stars of a rising celebrity lion phenomenon that extends to other species such as elephants. While local storytelling of these ‘celebrities’ like Sekoti often incorporates the human element, such as the guides who spot and manage these animals, for Western audiences, without live access to these iconic species, the wildlife films often provide a skewed view of these animals.

Producers of these documentaries, apart from riding on the human names and personalities given to these animals, also compete for audience attention through methods such as injecting soap opera storylines and a technique known as ‘false jeopardy’. False jeopardy refers to the suggestion made in many wildlife film episodes that a beloved character might die, his/her fate is unclear or that they are facing extraordinary threats such as dry seasons, despite these being a cyclical event every year.

Wildlife documentary series tend to end each episode on a cliff-hanger about the fate of the starring animal, a hook to keep audiences watching for the next episode. However, researchers say the cliff-hangers are often based on false jeopardy and are not representative of the true experience of these animals in their ecosystem.

The question may be asked: what is the problem if more attention is being given to the conservation of these animals and if therefore viewers are incentivised to contribute the millions of pula required for helping these species?

In a recent paper, four eminent wildlife scientists and researchers, point out the problem, which has particular resonance for Botswana which faced a global backlash in 2019 for reintroducing trophy hunting after a five-year ban.

“We should clarify that we are not arguing that anthropomorphism is in itself a bad thing,” reads the paper by Keith Somerville, Amy Dickman, Paul Johnson and Adam Hart.

“It is where the tendency to portray animals as humans is taken to extremes that it may have a distorting effect on public understanding of human-wildlife relations (especially when the real humans in the landscapes are ignored), and therefore undermine the understanding of the aims of conservation.”

Because for many in the West, wildlife films are their only source of readily available knowledge about species and their management in Africa, the telling of the story becomes critical. In 2019, Botswana came under aggressive attack from Western animal rights groups who assailed the country for reintroducing limited trophy hunting, particularly for elephants, despite the government undertaking a six-month-long consultation countrywide aimed at gathering views from citizens who actually live with the animals.

International campaigns were launched to boycott local tourism, petitions are still filling up and pressure has been brought to bear to the effect that any solutions must be endorsed by animal rights groups and those affiliated with them.

Analysts say the removal of humans in the portrayal and humanisation of iconic species such as elephants gives viewers in those countries an inaccurate picture of the complex issues around wildlife management and triggers unwarranted outrage when difficult decisions are taken.

Read More

Do read the full article as it makes lots of important points, especially;

The extreme humanising of species and the accompanying tendency to remove human relations with them, was evident in an estimate by Zimbabwean state newspaper, The Chronicle, indicating that the majority, up to 99% of Zimbabweans, were not aware of Cecil. Their encounters with lions and consequent conservation approach are informed by real-life interactions which often include attacks by the animals, injuries, deaths and destruction of crops in the case of elephants.

Commenting previously on the Cecil outrage, Jean Kapata, Zambia’s minister of tourism, said the West seemed more concerned with the welfare of a lion in Zimbabwe than of Africans themselves.

“In Africa, a human being is more important than an animal. I don’t know about the Western world.”

[rein-ette]

So I read the tags in your engbel post and honey you KNOW what I am here for

Please share all of your engbel ;A;

I thought this would be easy but it actually turned out a lot harder than I thought. I hope this delivers on both your and @mr-nauseam's expectations.

1. Many Belgian ports were part of the Hanseatic League, thus though inland Belgium came under heavy French influence, it's great port cities were in contact with English influences as well for hundreds of years before the 16th century. Hence, like Hanover, Belgium was just a girl that Arthur would meet in his travels. Since Arthur tends to be in good moods whenever he's "escaping" from his duties at home and at sea, these interactions were amiable, but not prolonged or particularly memorable (for him).

2. At this point it wasn't entirely clear that Belgium was even a nation, though she certainly wasn't human. I haven't quite decided what she was the representation of, since the low countries were so politically fractured at the time -- perhaps it wasn't obvious to her, either. I like the idea that nations carry a bit of mystery, a seed of the future in their existence.

3. Since she may well have been one of those semi-immortal nations who drift in and out of this world rapidly like a spring breeze, she felt a certain fascination with England, who was older and seemed more sure of himself, rushing around like he always had something to do. She was particularly taken by the fight in him, the way he lived so vibrantly (she was not the first or the last). For her, England and Portugal belonged to a richer, more fast-paced world than the simple, provincial lives she and her brothers led.

4. Everything began to change with the Dutch Revolt. In many ways it and the ensueing 80 years war had the same impact on Belgium's psyche that a civil war would. It was the first time her family, her status quo, her identity were torn apart with breathtaking brutality. She could not quite understand the white-hot fury of her brother with the Spanish, nor could she forgive Spain for treating her own with such violence. Though the southern provinces of Belgica Regia would ultimately remain Spanish, the long, terrible sieges on Antwerp and other cities left her reeling. Britain, despite being offered to rule the United Provinces, remained relatively uninvolved. Still, it was the first time Belgium and her people mattered politically on the international stage, and Arthur would not forget her again.

5. But England remains closer with Netherlands than with Belgium. This would later crop up as a source of doubt between them -- Belgium was somehow too French, even though she often did not want to be, and if France was England's sworn enemy, well -- how could they ever work out? She was "other", and yet she was not. This would somewhat undermine Belgium's confidence later, but this straddling of two worlds actually prompted England's first real curiosity to know her better, though he did not (in typical Arthur fashion) act on it.

6. The next turning point was the French annexation at the end of the 18th century, leading into the Napoleonic Wars. Belgium had endured centuries of conflict, back and forth tug of war, and a bid of independence against the Austrians. She was still not a true nation, but she was no longer a little girl on the docks, either. She had learned to fight, to conceal, to want things for herself. England too was no longer the wild, fierce thing that had once visited her shores. He still had that fight in him -- but the edges had turned bitter, and his eyes held more and more doubts about life than convictions in it. They were no longer young.

7. During the Napoleonic Wars, incidentally, is when Belgium first falls in love. That brilliant red coat, that trim waist and dark eyes -- he had traded his childhood intensity for a different kind: an intensity of hatred, of ambition, of objective. It thrilled her -- perhaps because she too, had tasted the pulse-quickening thrill of war, had glimpsed the glory of empire. His power was attractive in and of itself, and she wanted to be closer it.

8. Being given to her brother she does not appreciate, but by the 1830s she is free. For the next few decades they begin their carefully choreographed romance: a summer spent at his estate as a visiting lady, a trip to the continent to listen for gossip and buy clothes. Arthur, more settled, less wary, indulges in his past curiosity while trying to come to terms with the fact that while he wasn't paying attention, the girl on the docks had acquired a smile that was razor-sharp. They talk, between the carriage rides and evening parties. They talk of their memories, of their friends, of literature and war and philosophy. She keeps up with him on every topic, something he is astonished by.

9. Their relationship crumbles when she acquires an empire of her own. Historically speaking, England begins its most notable period of splendid isolation from 1885, and relations cool when London becomes a centre for resistance against Belgian rule in Congo. Personally speaking, Portugal breaks up with Arthur and he spends the next decade moping like a little bitch, mostly around Paris so he can distract himself with inane drama. Belgium too finds increasingly that she no longer wants a one-sided relationship she isnt sure was love in the first place. The power she was so drawn to in him -- she could have that for herself.

10. The First World War ends all dreams. Despite it all Belgium fights like hell, crops her hair and binds her chest and fights on the front lines. Two years in and England too is worn through with worry, exhaustion, grief. There is no space for glory or pretense anymore. For the first time, perhaps in their entire relationship, they meet each other's eyes as equals and they talk. They ask each other the difficult questions and they do not shy away from the difficult answers. It's a trust that's taken centuries to build, but when the next war comes they don't even need to ask questions anymore. From then on their relationship turns back to idle conversation and coffee dates -- whether it's coffee dates in bombed out cities or among the skyscrapers of the 21st century matters little -- but it's not playing house. Neither wants anything from the other and their curiosity has been satisfied. They simply know each other, and it's enough to be together in that knowledge.