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frankie-the-undead · 2 years

Note

I went thru a literal movie while playing Roblox

I was playing SCP 3008: the infinite Ikea.

I spawned in the middle of the night, and i had to run before any of the employees could find me. I found a small base consisting of 2 bunk beds and a lamp, and i waited until day came. It was really peaceful and quiet before I heard an "excuse me, the store is now closed. Please exit the building." And i felt my heart drop, thinking that an employee found me- and indeed I saw in the distance an employee running after a guy, and the guy hid right inside my small base. The employee almost got us but walked away because he was not programmed to crouch- so he couldn't do anything to us.

I saw the guy for a moment and told him "You almost killed us!" Because it was true, if it wasn't that we were a few cm far then we would've been dead. He apologized, i just told him "it's okay. It's gonna be a long night anyways."

A guy started to talk to us in the chat. "It's going to be 10 minutes."

Me: "Without doing ANYTHING"

So it was silence again. The guy that sneaked in my base got as bored as me. We started to sing "It's raining tacos from out of the sky".

Random guy in the chat (shadow): Stop singing it's raining tacos! Everyone hates that song.

Me: whatever

Day came. The guy (Sebas) got out of my base and started to walk somewhere else. I followed him out of curiosity, thinking that he wasn't going anywhere. I was surprised when i saw a whole house, his base was very big. It had food, a kitchen, a living room and a TV. I didn't say anything, i just entered there and he understood that I was now his roommate.

Shadow: Tonight is going to be blood night, prepare for your death sentences.

Me: Blood night?

Shadow: I swear if someone asks what is blood night im gonna explode.

Me: Someone's grumpy!

Sebas: LOOOOL!

Shadow: Whatever

Me: careful with that edge, shadow!

Sebas went out to get food. And i was pretty much alone in the base by now, i was eating the pizzas he let inside the fridge.

Shadow: in blood night the employees get 2x more dangerous, so i hope your base is strong enough.

Me: *presses the whistle button*

Shadow: DON'T WHISTLE!

Me: why?

Shadow: just don't do it, especially at night

Me: or what? An employee is gonna come up and beat me to death?

Shadow: yes

We kept having our conversation while Sebas was out there.

Me: I hope your base is strong enough, asshole

Shadow: it is, im an expert. I don't know about you.

Sebas: she's (he didn't know my prns) staying at my place.

I noticed that my food bar was low

Me: uugh, im hungry.

Shadow: Sebas give void half your food

Sebas: ugh

Sebas came back with a new friend too. His name was Simi. He was new to the game- and once he entered the kitchen he started to eat all the food. I was worried because food was rare in the game and if we ran out of food, we were fucked.

So blood night came, and the food was pretty much gone. I was mad at Simi cuz he literally went to the base and emptied our fridge? How dare he. Sebas went out again for food and luckily he came back to the base.

However, we all saw a message in the chat telling us that Shadow died.

I was wondering if Simi was going to be of any help during the next days, and he WASN'T.

Me: is he really going to eat all the food?

Sebas: i think so

At this point Sebas and I were friends, the next day after blood night it was foggy day. I went out to decorate the rooftop with plants and hanging lights, i even brought an employee mannequin! And two plushies. The next days Simi stopped eating so much, and helped us bringing food.

It's worth mentioning that one night we saw Simi come out of the base and go into the dark.

I was at the kitchen turning the light on when i read on the chat

Sebas: what is he doing?

Me: huh?

I went to the rooftop and i saw Simi being chased by an employee while brining some spaghettis (pretty rare food in the game)

Me: oh no

Sebas: should we help him?

...

Me: nah he'll be fine

And he was indeed not fine. He came back to the base with his health bar low and once again emptied the fridge.

I went out of the base with Sebas to get some decorations. I brought some plants.

When we were finished it was night already. I think it was night 33?

Me: So what do you think of my decorations?

Sebas: ...

Me: ugh

Sebas: oh no they're pretty good! Could have more lights though

Me: are you sure we need all these lights? I think im going blind.

Sebas: XD

So by night 38 i did the worst mistake of my life.

In the chat the server occasionally gave us some tips. In one of them it said "Don't bother looking for an exit! There isn't one."

This was also the night where Sebas had to disconnect for some time. So it was now me in charge of the base and Simi.

We went to the rooftop and stared at the night.

Me: i'm in charge

Simi: ugh

Me: I'm gonna go and look for an exit.

I went downstairs but not before asking Simi

Me: ur coming?

Simi: sure.

We grabbed some lights and began running in the dark, going farther from the base.

We were doing pretty good until an employee found us and began chasing us.

We were lucky and none of us died, but i separated myself from Simi.

Simi: where are you?

Me: uh- i think i'm lost

Simi: you gotta be joking

Simi: i'll make my way back to the base. You're coming?

Me: not without finding that exit!

Simi: alright, see you later then.

And he came back to the base while i was out there, in the dark.

7 days passed, 7 days of me walking in both light and dark. Eating lemons and water and occasionally stealing food from other bases i found on my path ._.

I met this girl, Ace. She was new to the game and asked me if she could stick with me.

Me: sure, i'm looking for my base. I didn't find that exit and i think that was the dumbest idea i ever had.

Ace: okay, lead the way!

And we started to walk. It was a long way because i didn't know where the fuck we were. The bad but also the interesting thing about the game is that you can't say your exact position because... Everything looks the same.

So it got dark, and me and Ace were nowhere near the base. We found someone else's base and decided to steal their food since they weren't home.

We sat there, waiting for it to be day. If i died, then i could spawn even farther from the base, and i wasn't having that. Ace died 5 times already and she didn't wanna die a 6th time.

Me: You're getting good at this game!

Ace: thx!

Ace: *presses whistle button*

Me: DON'T WHISTLE!

Ace: why?

Me: you alert them...

Ace: the employees?

Me: yeah!

Ace: whoops

We then heard a few "excuse me, the store is now closed" 's near us. And the cherry on top is that Ace accidentally removed the platform we were on, snd we both fell to the ground. Idk about her but I lost health. We started to run, and I was starting to lose hope that we could find my base. A few meters later I checked to see if Ace was still following me... She wasn't.

Me: Ace where are you?

Ace: Wait! I think i'm near you!

Honestly i could've just waited but it was dark, and i was sure that if i waited for her, i would also be waiting for an employee. So i continued my path without waiting for her.

A few minutes later i saw her name on the chat. She died.

I stopped by 2 more bases stealing food before finding my base! And simi was there waiting for me.

Me: home sweet home

Simi: oh hi Crow, i thought you weren't coming back

Me: I spent like 10 days baseless eating just lemons and water, gimme a break

And then i got disconnected... AAAAAAAAA

It was a good game lol

This has been the longest ask I've ever recieved, interesting story. I rarely play Roblox, now you're making me want to play it more lol. You made a whole ass movie in my inbox.

#roblox #scp 3008 #infinite ikea #cuervo #thanks for the ask!

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kieraelieson · 3 years

Text

Three Times Patton Got Lost in a Market

Thomas was walking through the old store with his mom, careful to hold her hand while they shopped.

“Oh, look! There’s a wind chime! It’s just like the nice neighbor lady!” Patton said.

Thomas stopped to look, and his mom stopped too, looking at something else across the aisle.

“It isn’t exactly the same,” Logan said. “Hers has a hummingbird on top, but this one has a butterfly.”

“And anyway, this one has prettier colors when the light hits it,” Roman added.

“Oooh, the red really is pretty, Roman!” Patton said excitedly. “And the purple, and the yellow!”

“It’s exactly the colors of the most beautiful rainbow reflecting back from a pot of gold,” Roman said dreamily.

“Mom!” Virgil suddenly shrieked, alerting them all to the fact that Thomas’s mom was no longer beside them.

Instantly, there was a pandemonium of overlapping voices, all very confusing, and Virgil at the front screaming.

“Quiet!” Patton yelled, as loud as he could, and then felt a little like crying. He didn’t like yelling, but this was important!

“But we have to find Mom!”

“We should run after her!”

“If we yell someone will hear!”

“Listen to me!” Patton yelled again. “Remember what Mom said? If we get lost in the store we stay put, and if we see an employee then we ask them to call mom for us.”

Virgil bit down hard on his sleeves, and Patton took his silence for agreement.

“That is indeed what Thomas was told,” Logan admitted.

“I still think we should go find her!” Roman protested, though less pointedly than before.

Thomas plopped down on the floor.

“Ok. That settles it, we’re waiting for mom,” Patton said. “Let’s look for more pretty things while she comes to get us. Roman, what else can you see around us that looks like a rainbow?”

Roman grumpily crossed his arms. “There’s a rainbow on the lawn decoration.”

“Very good!” Patton said. “Logan, can you see anything that’s science-accurate?”

“Science-accurate is a very vague phrase, but I suppose you could be intending to direct me to the collection of decorative barometers.”

“Oooh~ yes, the water swan neck thingies~” Roman said.

Logan launched into an explanation of barometers, most of which Patton didn’t understand.

He checked on Virgil, who was scanning the aisle they were in over and over again, and chewing holes in his poor sleeves.

“She’ll be here in just a minute, don’t worry,” Patton said gently.

Virgil nodded slightly, but didn’t stop checking the ends of the aisle and staring down each person that passed.

And then his eyes went wide. Patton turned to look.

“Mom!”

“Thomas, I thought I lost you for a minute there! Stay close, ok?”

Thomas took his mother’s hand and nodded.

Patton let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t lost anymore.

••^*^••

Thomas was a bit worried about high school, and especially the test coming up, and Logan and Virgil were mostly helping him with that. But now he had to go to the store for groceries. And Roman was exhausted after being all excited over the play and was sound asleep.

So Patton was helping shop!

He smiled confidently, prompting Thomas to look at the list again. He needed to get the ingredients for tacos, and some bread, milk, eggs, and ice cream. Yum!

Now what all went into tacos?

There was meat, and sour cream, and little shredded lettuce, and cheese, and taco shells, or was he supposed to get soft tortillas?

Patton considered, wandering into the store towards the food. Maybe both? Yeah. Both. Oh! And there was the bread! That would probably have tortillas near it!

Patton hummed happily, finding the bread that looked the same as what mom had been getting, noting the brand name. Nature’s Own. Huh.

Now tortillas… what kind did they normally get?

He finally just picked the one that had blue on the label.

Virgil popped up, startling him for a moment, especially with his intense frown. “People are staring. We’re taking too long near the bread, and your humming is gonna make people think Thomas is weird.”

“Oh, it’s alright!” Patton said cheerfully, glad he hadn’t dropped the tortillas. “I didn’t get in anyone’s way, and they haven’t said anything yet about thinking Thomas is weird.”

“Yeah…” Virgil glared at the people milling around and shopping. “Well they could. Just… keep it quiet.”

“Will do!” Patton grinned, and Virgil sunk back out.

Next he had to find… well, next he had to find the next thing. Should he keep walking and hope to see them, or should he seek each one out? He’d stumbled upon the bread, surely he would stumble across the rest.

Patton hummed happily and kept walking, skipping along beside the cart as Thomas pushed it. Thomas must really be out of it, poor guy. But Patton could help him cheer up!

Pretty soon, they had almost everything! Except for taco seasoning. And Patton wasn’t sure if they were supposed to get the kind that was in packets, or the actual spices. And he also wasn’t sure whether he should look in the spices area or the Mexican food area. Or where those areas were.

Surely they’d passed those special Mexican drinks a while back. But where?

Patton encouraged Thomas to turn around and go back, but after several aisles he still couldn’t find anything he was looking for. He turned back around, and then again.

“Perhaps… I need to go from one end all the way to the other…”

Virgil popped up again, rather grumpy looking, but not as much as earlier. “That’s gonna take too long. We’re already late, and Mom is gonna need Thomas home son so she can make dinner.”

Patton sighed. “Ok. Logan, help please, I’m lost.”

Logan popped up, looked around, and then pointed. “That aisle.”

“But how do you know?” Patton asked.

“There’s a sign above it.”

Patton looked up. “Oh. Yeah.” He chuckled. “I should’ve thought to look for signs. Thanks, Logan!”

“You’re welcome. However I do suggest we attempt to make our trip home expedient. I’ll need Virgil’s full attention and assistance to prepare adequately for the test.”

“Will do!” Patton said, already spurring Thomas towards the aisle.

••^*^••

“I have created the ultimate maze!” Roman said excitedly. “It is called Infinite IKEA!”

Patton clapped excitedly, and even Logan gave a single clap.

“I really don’t see the point—“

“The point is a race, Emo Nightmare, and the winner gets to pick which old reruns Thomas watches tonight.”

Virgil tried to pretend he was still disinterested, but Patton could tell he was excited. “So what would we have to do to win the race?”

Roman grinned. “I’ve hidden a copy of each of our logos in the store somewhere, except for mine, which Logan hid by sinking in and placing it in a random place, so he doesn’t know the layout of the store yet. You have to find your own logo, and then exit the store!”

Oh, so that was why Logan had a bump on his head. He’d probably tried to rise up too close to a shelf. Ouch.

“Everybody ready! Set! Go!”

They all rushed into the store. Patton looked around excitedly, getting more excited to see that the store was full of items that came from houses where Thomas had lived or visited. He ran to the section of beds and flopped onto the biggest one.

He let out a comfy sigh, looking up at the roof which, rather than being metal supports and too-bright lights, was intricately painted with something that glowed.

It was amazing.

“You did a really great job, Roman,” Patton said, even though Roman was probably running ahead to win the race— oh! This was a race!

He jumped up and started walking, looking around for his heart with glasses.

After the bed section, where he wished he could stay and flip onto each one, he wandered into the lamps and chandeliers section. That was beautiful. He was still dazzled and in awe walking out. It even had that massive one Thomas had seen in the one hotel once.

And then came books, where Logan was!

“Hi, Logan!”

“Ah, greetings Patton.” Logan was looking through the books, just as captivated as Patton had been by the beds.

“Find your logo yet?”

“Not yet. I’m not overly concerned with winning, and Roman has certainly made this an interesting place to browse.”

“Mhmm!” Patton looked around. “Where are the kids books, I want to see if the Winnie the Pooh book is still chewed on or if Roman made it brand new.”

“That way, two shelves down,” Logan said, rather distracted by a book he’d picked off of the shelf.

“Thank you!”

Patton found the children’s section, and then found the book. It was still chewed on the corners. He smiled, and flipped through the thick cardboard pages. Thomas had loved this book.

And then, when he opened the last page, his logo fell out.

“Awww, look!” He picked it up, and found that it was a sticker. He promptly stuck the sticker to his chest and put the book back. Now all he had to do was find his way out!

He wandered into the next section, which was all dark and purples and blues and blacks and everything cozily packed together.

There was even a sign warning him away from certain aisles, because there would be spiders, and Patton was very glad Roman had thought of that.

And then he remembered the sunglasses stand sitting at the beginning of the lights aisle. That was probably for Virgil. Roman had been so thoughtful in building this! Patton hoped Roman would win. He certainly deserved the prize after putting all this together.

There was a whole section of Disney, all the movies, and posters, and any Disney themed toys and figurines, and even cardboard cut outs! It was lovely and chaotic and colorful, and it bridged Virgil’s section with Roman’s very well.

Roman had every single picture Thomas had ever seen, which was so many pictures!! Patton looked in awe until he realized that the paintbrushes weren’t just for show, some of them had been used. There was a little black cat in the corner of one painting, and a little V, and the paintbrush was in a cup of black water.

Patton found a picture of a field of flowers, and picked up the paintbrush, dabbing a bit of pink onto the picture. It turned instead into exactly the kind of flower Patton had been envisioning! He smiled wide and painted another, and another, and another, and each one turned out beautiful!

He ran to another painting and gave a little boy in the background a balloon and a smile. And then he gave the lady sitting in a rocking chair a baby to hold.

He finally had to stop himself. He could stay here forever, but he probably should get to the end of the store so he wouldn’t worry the others.

He got to the end of Roman’s section, only to find a massive blanket fort. He kept himself from exploring, and passed through, coming out at… the beds again?

Ohhhhh, right. It was a race and a maze.

Patton flopped down on the bed Thomas had grown up with, wrapping up in the blanket. He let out a happy sigh.

“Logan! Roman! Virgil! I’m lost! But I’m also gonna stay lost!”

Roman rose up and leaned against the footboard, a pleased smile on his face. “Enjoying the store?”

“I’m loving it!” Patton said happily, sitting up. “You did a really good job!”

Roman glowed. “I guess I’ll have to leave it up for you to wander in then. Once Virgil finds the exit I’ll put it somewhere more obvious so you can get out once you’re done.”

“Oh, did you and Logan already get out? Who won?”

“Logan, but only by a few minutes. He hid my logo in a hard place! How was I supposed to guess he’d put it under the makeup stash?”

Patton chuckled. “Wait, I didn’t see that.”

“It’s in Virgil’s section, in one of the spider aisles. I can un-spider it for you if you want.”

“Well, let Virgil have his fun first, but I’d really like that.” Patton smiled. He could have fun in here for a long time. “You did an amazing job with the paintings too! I loved those!”

Roman puffed up happily. “I did, didn’t I?”

There was a distant, triumphant, “Ha! I made it! Wait, Princey beat me? Aww.”

Patton giggled.

Roman patted his shoulder. “Have fun.”

“I will!” Patton said happily, eyeing the blanket fort which he now had time to explore.

—————

If you enjoyed, please reblog! And consider supporting me as I try to make a living off of writing 😊

#my own work #sanders sides #sanders sides spoilers #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders

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emoryinaboat · 3 years

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Idk if we were only allowed rare-pairs or something (couldn't find anything about what was allowed?) , but i'm having a sad day so if you want to, maybe some soft sufin (sweden and finland) headcanons? if possible, soft and sweet ones, please?

Hello I am very sorry you had a bad day, I hope you’re feeling better now, here you go friend.

- Berwald isn't good with verbal affection at all, he's more "I'm gonna stare at you with what I'm interpreting as a pleading face but is most likely being perceived as a murder glare until you come sit in my lap and let me use you as a pillow".

- The whole "wife" thing is a dumb thing that Timo and Mathias said jokingly a couple hundred years ago and Berwald is just never letting Timo live it down.

- Timo is fully capable of carrying Berwald. Timo will not let people forget this. Timo will literally come up behind Berwald and pick him up onto his shoulders and hold him like that for like 5 whole minutes while Berwald carries on whatever conversation he was in.

- Timo likes stealing Berwald's glasses and doing awful impersonations of him. It's also fun because Berwald's blind squint face is kind of adorable.

- Both of them are terrible cooks. Both of them think their own cooking is great. Both of them think each other's cooking is awful. They either get takeout or cook their own meals. The other Nordics are very exasperated by this system.

- Berwald used to "accidentally" leave like 3/4 of the alcohol on the top shelf in an attempt to stop Timo from getting completely wasted (once Timo starts he doesn't stop until he passes out). This backfired because Timo tried to climb the pantry shelves, fell over and cracked his head against the tiled floor and gave himself a concussion.

- Berwald is a really great storyteller and tells Peter amazing bedtime stories about Vikings and gods. It's an unspoken battle between him and Arthur for Best Storyteller in Peter's life.

- Timo is scarier than Berwald when he's half-asleep. He talks like a possessed child in a horror film. He used to make Emil cry when he was small. At this point Berwald just wraps him in a blanket, sits him on the counter, responds to everything Timo says with a "'that's nice" and shoves coffee at him.

- When Timo get's sick, he adamantly refuses to stay in bed and take it easy. Berwald knows when this happens and physically carries him to bed and manages to convince him to stay there with the good old 'telling him you're worried about him because of how much you love him'. Timo is the only person he can take care of.

- Timo can get literally anything he asks for. By simply asking. Because whenever he asks for anything, he unintentionally gives the most heart-wrenching puppy-eyes known to man and Berwald physically can not say no.

- They're both aggressively protective. If they catch anyone stepping up to the other, they will raise hell.

- If you think Timo doesn't smack Berwald's ass just to see him syntax error and blush, then you are sorely mistaken.

- They unironically go to Ikea for the food.

- Berwald laughs and smiles infinitely more than when he's with Timo. Timo absolutely melts whenever that little realization strikes him.

- Berwald fears Timo in the most healthy way possible, like in the way you respect them to the point of knowing that anyone who fucks with them will never see the light of day again.

#hetalia #hws hetalia #aph hetalia #sufin

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saturnsstufff · 3 years

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I thought like everyone knew about SCP wkenrbrh so sorry about that

“The SCP Foundation is a secretive organization that contains anomalous or supernatural items and entities away from the eyes of the public. SCP stands for Secure, Contain, Protect.” (I googled a definition cus I suck at explaining lol)

So it’s basically a foundation that hides supernatural and most times dangerous entities, like for example there’s this one called SCP - 137 and it can’t move if you look at it, so if you blink it can (and probably will) instantly break your neck and kill you

Others are harmless like SCP - 999 which is basically a blob of orange slime and ITS SO CUTE it can roam around free (unless it has to be in its pen to sleep) and everyone loves it and I would 100% sacrifice myself and everyone for it

Some also aren’t alive like SCP - 087 which is basically a non ending staircase (I can’t think of the words lol) that also hosts SCP - 087-1 which is basically just a pale humanoid face, like someone covered a human with a white cloth, like slender as face but more defined

And my favorite (besides 999) is SCP - 3008, also nicknamed the infinite IKEA, it’s basically an IKEA that looks normal but it’s infinite on the inside and it’s also said to have multiple “openings”, for example there can be multiple IKEAs around the world that connects to the one that’s infinite. When you enter 3008 and pass out of sight from the front doors you enter SCP - 3008-1 aka the part that’s infinite, if you retrace your steps you can get out but since you don’t know you’ve entered 3008-1 since the change goes unnoticed it can be hard. It also hosts SCP - 3008-2 which is IKEA workers that are faceless and about 7 feet tall and their arms and legs are grossly out of proportion and larger then normal and they have huge hands. The IKEA has lights that automatically turn off at night and on in day so that works as their day and night cycle. In the day the workers don’t care about anyone in there (unless approached which makes them aggressive like at night), the foundation even went in with drones once and they didn’t care, they seem to just wander around randomly, but at night they get hostile towards all other life forms in SCP - 3008 and they chase them saying “the store is now closed, please exit the building” while reaching out for them and if they get you they kill you. The workers seem to be only flesh through their whole body so no on knows how their even alive. Since the IKEA is infinite it loops around itself and repeats so the food is also infinite and it seems to reappear in the cafeteria when no one is looking so food won’t be a problem if you get stuck. Inside the IKEA the ppl who’s stuck have built several small “houses” out of IKEA furniture and walls to protect themselves from the workers at night, the 14 ppl who’ve survived and got out have said that the ppl still stuck inside work together to fight off the employees and go on trips to get food.

I went severely off track so sorry about that but no one I know wants to talk about it and you didn’t know what it was so it’s an excuse for me to talk about it lol sorry again you don’t have to post this but to sum it up, Government no like human know of supernatural thing, so government take supernatural thing into cell or cover it up n keep survalance on it 24/7 and clean humans memory of its existence men in black style :D (please tell me you know what men in black is-) ~🪲

Oohhh!!! Ok this makes sence!! I didnt even know what it was (and i got men in black, the movies are hilarious)

#sat's talks

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kisskissbanggang · 4 years

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Au Pair

[WayV Mystery Member 👀 x Female Reader -- 6.1K Words/20Min. Read -- Fluffy Plot, Fluffy Smut -- NSFW, Living Abroad, Will-They-Won’t-They, Horrible Bosses, Impreg Kink, Tense Situations]

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When you first entered college, you never quite predicted you would end up on the other side of the world during your senior year, but here you were on a balmy summer day, grabbing your bags out of your ride from the airport. Your Uber had taken you down a driveway long enough to make you think you were miles away from the city, and now you were faced with the most laughably luxurious home you'd ever seen in person.

From what you understood, your interview with the Copelands had gone well for two big reasons: 1) they appreciated all the credentials and materials you'd masterfully prepared, and 2) you were American, which apparently reminded them of home. They were almost cheating the whole concept of having an au pair, because you certainly weren't going to be exchanging much culture in a home like theirs, aside from maybe class culture. They certainly had enough money to do whatever they wanted, which was baffling considering they could've just hired a professional nanny for their son rather than an au pair for the year.

Melissa Copeland stood at the threshold of this near-palace, angular and terrifying in her smart suit. You could practically feel a cool breeze emanating from her as you approached. She finally looked up from her phone, her purse hooked on the crook of her arm like she was about to leave.

"You're finally here. I was about to leave."

You quickly dropped your bags to offer a handshake. A firm, friendly, American handshake. She may as well have been handing off her keys to the valet for how much she even touched your extended hand.

"Mrs. Copeland, I'm so sor--"

"Melissa."

"Er, Melissa, I'm so sorry, my flight was delayed."

"I can see that. I'll make time for a quick tour. Come inside." She gestured to her personal assistant -- a mouse of a girl -- to notice your bags on the ground. She wordlessly lunged forward and grabbed them, then sprinted inside the house with them as gracefully as possible. You followed Melissa into the foyer.

"As I said, I'll make this quick," your new boss droned, "this is the foyer. You'll obviously be staying in the guest room closest to Carson's, which is up the grand staircase, at the end of the west hallway, ergo, yours is the second to last room down said hallway. The Master Suite is at the end of the east hallway. The kitchen is in the back, pool is outside, you can take one of the cars or request a driver from Brent's company if you need a ride anywhere. Not sure when Brent will be home; his business trip has been extended. Carson is at dance lessons right now, and will be back at 3 o'clock. If you need anything else explained, you can ask our head of household, Ai. She's somewhere doing something; she shouldn't be hard to find."

You hadn't left the room. You hadn't walked around the room. Really, Melissa had hardly moved at all while she'd spoken. You were on edge, suddenly wondering if you were in way over your head, only shaken out of your stress as a car rolled up outside the open front door behind you. Melissa casually strolled to the door, her "tour" apparently over as she stopped to regard you one last time. "I'm glad you're here --"

"I am, too, Melissa, you--"

"-- It'll be much easier to reinforce Carson's English with an American au pair. Not to mention all our friends didn't think to get an au pair for their kids. Just nannies. Now we're the only ones." She gave a shrugging smirk as she slipped out the door and into the waiting car. Her assistant scampered back through the foyer, hot on the trail as she quickly followed Melissa.

Then she was gone. You gazed, bewildered, around the giant foyer before making your way up the grand staircase. You peeked into Carson's room, noting how oddly sterile it all looked for a little boy. It looked as though it had been plucked out of an Ikea catalogue... Only not the children’s section. Rather, the room had the sensibility and furnishings of a shrunken design major.

"Lost?"

You whirled around, gasping in surprise as you were faced with a woman who was a good head or more shorter than you and easily your mother's age.

"Er, no," you stammered, "I was just taking a look. Are you Ai?"

The woman smiled warmly. "Come on, then," she nodded her head down the hallway, "I've brought some fresh towels for your en suite."

Ai had led you back down the hall and into the guest room -- easily three or four times the size of your last shoebox of a dorm, not even including the giant bathroom. She gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as you met Carson once he was dropped back off from dance lessons. A perfectly sweet little boy, Carson couldn't be older than five. He followed the two of you around as Ai showed you the rest of the house in greater detail. She, as well as the Copelands' personal chef, groundskeeper, and Melissa's personal assistant stayed in the staff quarters just off of the kitchen, but you had been deemed necessary to stay closer to Carson. You would be invited to family meals if it was ruled to be best for Carson, but otherwise you weren't needed after dinner time, except to occasionally put him to bed. Tonight you had decided to take dinner with Ai in the common area of the staff quarters.

You sat on the comfy couch in this infinitely cozier part of the house, watching as Ai made you both some dinner. "So," you smirked, "no personal chef for us, then?"

"Don't need one," Ai laughed, shrugging, "besides, it's what, Saturday? He usually gets dinner prepared and runs out of here for the night." She brought the food to the small dinner table as you walked over to join her.

She laid out some ground rules, or "unwritten rules" as she was cryptically saying. "I know it'll be tempting to ask Mrs. Copeland for her opinion on things,” she explained, “but don't. Get ahold of me or one of the others instead. Believe me, you're better off making a guess if you can't. Don't accept a drink from Mr. Copeland. You're young, and you're pretty, and you have a young body walking under that young brain of yours, so he'll try to be tricky eventually. You'll be tempted to get involved with their personal business, but don't. You will anyway, but try not to. We've all been there, we've all learned, but it still happens to everyone."

It only took you a few days of being restless in the giant home for you to begin feeling more confident in your new role. You accompanied Carson to see his various teachers and tutors, but you also began enriching his day-to-day life. First was a couple trips to different museums you wanted to visit, and then a zoo the next week. Carson began joining you as you explored the city, either holding your hand or sitting on your shoulders as you went shopping and eating together. Melissa and Brent were "homesick", so they insisted on mostly American food in the house. Well, that had to change. Carson particularly enjoyed hot pot or anything involving cheese. He helped you feel more curious, but also more alert. You'd only ever babysat a few times as a younger teenager, so you weren't used to the intense protective instincts you occasionally felt, even going so far as to scold an old woman who pinched his cheek one day while in a cafe.

Carson was more than excited to continue your adventures together, barely able to contain himself as you helped him shimmy into his swim trunks one day. The Copelands had a ludicrously beautiful pool, and it was a shame that its only use seemed to be as a tanning bed for Melissa. You walked through the dining room together to the open glass doors leading out to the backyard. You dramatically smacked yourself in the forehead. "Of course," you told Carson, "we did all this work to get ready and I forgot your floaties upstairs. Wait here, okay? I'll go get them."

You could've sworn you only got halfway up the stairs when you heard a soft splash from outside. The hair on the back of your neck rose as your heart firmly sank in your chest. Carson may be a smart kid, but a kid nonetheless. You sprinted downstairs, kicking off your sandals and your cover-up as you were suddenly overtaken, another person whipping past you and diving straight into the pool. You looked behind you, regarding the door to the kitchen still hanging open as a gasp quickly brought your attention back to the pool. Lunging forward, you helped this stranger pull Carson out of the pool when you realized you were crying. You heard yourself choke out a sob as you noticed Carson wasn't breathing, until the man grabbed him under the armpits, hoisted him down over one knee, and gave him a firm thump on the back. Carson spit up a cough of water, gasping into a cry and reaching for you. You pulled the little boy close, clutching him tight as you hurriedly walked him upstairs.

Only after he was calmed down, and you called his pediatrician to see if you needed to take any precautions, and you called Melissa for the sake of transparency, did you finally put Carson down for a well-needed nap. Melissa was frustratingly flippant despite her concern, curtly noting that they should put Carson into swim lessons as soon as possible before quickly having to hang up. You flipped on the baby monitor, grabbing the receiver and heading downstairs to retrieve your sandals and cover-up when you noticed the door to the kitchen was still open. You peered inside, following the wet footprints into the door leading to the staff quarters. The trail of drips led down the hall to one of the bedrooms, and you peeked inside. The bed was neatly made, the desk was well organized, and you let yourself gravitate towards the photos pinned on the opposite wall. Sure enough, the stranger from the pool was in nearly all the pictures, smiling and laughing with friends and family members. You were jolted out of your snooping as a hand landed on your shoulder. You whirled around, faced with the handsome guy in the photos.

"Are you lost?" He laughed, patting his hair dry with a fluffy towel. He had apparently changed into his comfy clothes, wearing a thin t-shirt and some track pants.

"Oh, holy crap," you wheezed, "I am so sorry. This looks so weird of me. It is weird of me! I just wanted to thank you so much for what you did."

"It was no problem," he modestly dismissed, "and it had to be done. Is Carson alright?"

"Yes! He'll be fine. And yourself?"

"I'll also be fine," he smiled warmly, his hand returning to your shoulder, "and you? You'll be fine?"

You nodded, earnestly at first and suddenly crumbling back into tears. You were still a bit shaken up, honestly, enough so that you found yourself leaning into the chest of a man whose name you didn't even know.

"Hey," he soothed, "hey, hey, you did great. You did better than great." He slid a gentle knuckle under your chin to tip your gaze up at him. You realized, now, just what you were doing: crying onto -- and hugging -- a stranger in his bedroom while wearing only a bikini. You found yourself entirely overcome with embarrassment. Your cheeks burning bright red, you turned and scampered out of the room.

A couple nights had passed before you could bear to venture back down to the kitchen. This had become a bit of a ritual lately, where you would sneak downstairs when you couldn't fall asleep and have a small snack, or maybe a glass or two of wine while you read. It was a stunning kitchen, just like the rest of the house. You hopped up onto the counter with your glass of Pinot, munching on a couple small slices of gouda while you looked over an article on your phone. The door creaked and you steeled yourself, ready to apologize to Melissa for sitting on the counter and drinking her wine (though you knew you didn't have to and you were already sure she drank enough that she'd never notice.) Instead, in through the door popped the cute guy you'd already made a fool of yourself in front of. You both carefully regarded each other from across the room.

"Is that the Pinot?" He asked.

"Yes?"

"A Merlot would pair better with that." He strolled over, opening the miniature wine fridge on the counter reserved specifically for opened bottles. He slid out a handsome Merlot and poured you a new glass. "I'm not one for letting it breathe when I'm just snacking, but it's worth trying sometime."

You took another nibble of the cheese in your hand, catching yourself keeping eye contact with the man as you tried the wine. You nodded contentedly. "I'm sorry for the other day,” you offered, “That must've been awkward for you."

"No, not at all. Well, no more than needed, which was only a tiny bit. You were stressed out; I get it." He took the half full glass of Pinot out of your hands and sipped from it. "I'd hate to let this go to waste," he explained.

"Do I get to know your name?"

"Only if you promise not to cry on me tonight," he teased, looking regretful as he saw your reaction. "Too mean? Too mean. My name is Kun."

You introduced yourself and you talked.

In fact, you talked late every night in the kitchen that week. Kun was refreshing, smart, thoughtful. Sometimes you just snacked and joked around, other times he cooked you something and you both enjoyed it while you stayed up talking. Kun’s cooking was always effortlessly delicious, whether it was a grilled cheese or an entire tiramisu he secretly made for you to share. It wasn’t long before he suggested you see each other during the daytime, maybe when Carson was at one of his lessons. It was exciting to think that Kun wanted to spend so much time with you.

“Are you going to watch me?” Carson asked you while he slipped on his ballet shoes.

“Not today, bud,” you admitted, apologetic but firm.

“Awh, why? I like when you watch,” he pouted.

“I’m hanging out with Kun while you dance. Is that okay?”

Carson thought about it before nodding. “Yeah. I like Kun. He’s nice. Do you like Kun?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “I like Kun. Have fun, and I'll be right here when you're done.”

Carson waved out the window of the dance studio as you left, waving back at him when Kun pulled up to the curb on his scooter. He handed you a spare helmet before whisking you away.

Kun had brought you to a tiny cafe deep in the city, winding you down side streets and eventually ending up in a quiet corner of a quiet coffee shop, nonchalantly tittering with the quiet small talk that surrounded you as you sipped your coffee. He explained what made a good cup of coffee, and was pleasantly stunned when you matched him beat for beat with your knowledge from your stint as a coffee snob. He liked how driven you were, even as you insisted you had no idea what you were doing half the time. Having his personal attention was quickly becoming a luxury, something you treasured more and more. Kun was curious if you considered staying past your contract with the Copelands, but it was hard to tell at this point. What all was there to stay for?

His hand gently held yours as you talked, something you hadn’t expected but readily accepted, his casual forwardness making this easy when it would normally make you wary. You didn’t always fall for guys, but it was so effortless with Kun. He was practically beckoning you with open arms and you were practically leaping into them for how carefree this felt. Every touch was gentle and innocent, like he was scared of chasing you away. He didn’t try to kiss you, he didn’t even try to hold you, but he was perfectly content holding your hand. This was easy.

What wasn’t as easy was work. Carson wasn’t always cooperative, especially with how little he saw his parents. With so many authority figures in his life but no stable rally point, he would act out. It wasn’t constant, but it was regular enough. The silent treatment one moment, or perhaps a whine, or maybe a full-blown tantrum. You were becoming a pro at ignoring onlookers when Carson would spontaneously decide to have a meltdown.

On a particularly moody night, Carson begged and begged you to come to dinner with him, and suddenly figured in the middle of the meal that he had no desire to eat his vegetables (which was a shame, considering how impeccable Kun got the roast on them.) His whines became tears as you attempted to reason with him. Melissa watched, carefully observing. Brent momentarily caught your attention, an odd look in his eye making you quickly avert your gaze. Once negotiations were finally settled, Brent smiled a small smile, quietly impressed. Melissa, however, had a look of contempt. Had you done something wrong?

Thankfully, Kun was always there at the end of the night to help you vent, just let off some steam as you sat and hung out in the kitchen. In a rare moment of pure spite, you let him know that even though you had no kids of your own, that you were confident that you’d be a better mother than Melissa. To your utter surprise, Kun agreed.

“The way you handle Carson? Perfect,” Kun praised as he poured you another glass of wine, “Melissa’s just being a jerk because it doesn’t come naturally to her.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Of course not. She was all business before Carson from the sound of it, and she doesn’t seem much different. She was Brent’s assistant before she was his wife, you know.”

You pondered that as you sipped your wine. “That actually makes a lot of sense,” you concluded. Kun nodded in return.

“If it makes you feel any better, it sounds like Brent sees a lot of Melissa in you. I heard him mention it on one of his phone calls he takes in the gazebo out back. I take it that he likes how professional you are and everything.”

It didn’t make you feel better. In all honesty, it hung on you and nagged at you for days. The first time you had really met Brent, weeks ago now, you had literally run into him after bringing some laundry downstairs. Ai would normally grab it, but the brevity still felt odd and you were headed down there anyhow. You had bumped into Brent as you turned a corner, dropping your laundry basket and letting out an uncharacteristic squeal of surprise. Brent was so tall. It was a little intimidating as he had stooped down to help you pick up your clothes, that same sideways smile you saw at dinner tonight on his face as he had handed you a couple of shirts he grabbed for you. His thumb had been right on top of the bundle he passed back to you, dipped into a stray pair of panties that you had dropped with the basket. You had blushed and gathered your clothes before running off.

You never thought you compared to Melissa, but now you were scrutinizing her as well as yourself. You compared the ways you dressed, the ways you walked, but couldn't see any similarities. What did Brent mean? One day, you sat with Carson in his room as he put makeup on you. He was so interested in coloring and painting, that he got so intensely curious when he noticed you touching up your lips one afternoon. So, you figured, why not let him go crazy?

“I like your eyes,” Carson observed as he carefully colored your eyebrows. They were currently jet black and very angry.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded. “I like your face and your hair but I like your eyes the most.”

“What about Mommy?” You asked curiously.

“I don’t like Mommy’s eyes,” Carson shook his head.

“You don’t? What else is different about Mommy and me?”

“Everything,” Carson concluded, “what a weird question.”

It was a weird question, but now you felt better knowing that even Carson thought so.

Finally, the next day, you’d had it. You went to look for Brent when you were sure he was home. It would just be a curious -- but blunt -- question. He'd been nice enough to you before that you figured he would understand. And you’d laugh about it. You’d heard the door to the patio open and close when you’d been studying up in your room signaling you that he was taking one of his business calls in the backyard again.

You quietly padded down the stairs, through the foyer and into the dining room. A gasp forced itself from your chest before you even really registered what you saw outside in the yard beyond the giant sliding glass doors. Melissa turned from where she straddled Kun’s lap by the poolside, her momentary confusion turning into the most spiteful smile you'd ever witnessed. Kun was frozen under her, his eyes locked on you in an expression you couldn't make out before you quickly turned away, reeling as you rushed back to your room.

It was an odd feeling, being so betrayed by someone you didn’t feel even belonged to you. Of course you were friendly, of course you flirted a little, but now you just felt stupid for ever thinking that Kun wanted you. Of course he would want Melissa instead, Melissa who stood tall and lithe and was pretty and sexy and well-spoken and so, so commanding. You never knew a person who dominated a room like she did. It hurt seeing her on top of him, and you just felt like a petulant girl for it. You waited for him in the kitchen every night for days, but he never showed. Your heartbreak only multiplied.

Fine, you figured. If Kun liked sexy then you could do that. You felt a little immature the next evening as you unfolded the new dress you bought from its shopping bag, but it felt proactive. The dress was simple, honestly, but it hugged your body and it wasn't like anything you owned already. You did already own exactly one pair of stilettos, something you only brought for appearances in case you had been asked to accompany the family to a party or other function. Your plan was simple: you'd head down to the kitchen to let Ai know you were heading out for the night and just happen to run into Kun. Your heels clicked on the tile and echoed off the walls as you headed downstairs. Was this petty? Sure, but would it get results? You were confident it would.

The kitchen was apparently empty at first, but you were surprised to see Brent pop up from behind the open refrigerator door as he snapped open a beer.

“Hey,” he smiled, “would you like one?”

“Oh,” you fumbled, your fingers playing with the chain of your clutch purse, “no, thank you. I was just telling Ai that I was going out, maybe ask Kun for a ride.”

“Well I saw Kun leave a few hours ago,” he shrugged, “but can we talk? I don't usually have time like this.”

“Sure,” you nodded with a small smile as you set your purse down on the kitchen island, “is it about Carson?”

“No no,” Brent shook his head as he pushed an open beer into your hand anyhow. You absently sipped at it, drawing a grin from him. “It's about you. You watch my son almost all hours of the day and I hardly know you.” He pulled a bar stool out from under the island and invited you to sit. However, he still stood as you talked. You explained school and work and life back home, things you realized you'd talked with Kun about not too long ago.

“Sorry if I'm rambling,” you winced, setting your beer down. Brent flashed you a dashing smile.

“Not at all. You're great. It's nice to get to know you.” You blushed deep at the words as Brent brushed his fingers back through his hair. “Admittedly, I picked you. I think I did pretty well.”

“You did? You do?”

Brent nodded solemnly. “You think Melissa wanted an au pair around? Someone to be a better mother than she is? If I weren't so busy, I'd have Carson to myself. That's why I'm so glad I picked you. I liked your resume. That presenter picture you included from that convention was cute.”

Your blush heated your face even more. Maybe Brent was just really forward and blunt like his wife? You shifted awkwardly in your seat when he took a step closer to you. “I'm glad I'm doing a good job,” you offered, tempted to slide off your chair before Brent took another step closer.

“You're doing a fine job,” he spoke softly, “you remind me a lot of Melissa when I first met her. She always looked so eager to please.” At this he stepped between your knees. Your breath hitched in your throat as Brent stroked your hair behind your ear. Even as you clenched your legs, trying to shut him out, he leaned in even closer. “What about you? Are you eager to please?”

Shameful tears were already welling at the corners of your eyes as you thrashed against him, putting your fists up to fight him off. Brent grabbed your wrists in one hand, holding them tight with a disgustingly playful grin as his other hand trailed down to his belt.

“Think about it,” he chided, “you're in a house in a city in a country on the other side of the planet. Can you really afford losing this job? Getting thrown out on the street?”

“Brent, please—“

“Call me Mr. Copeland,” he insisted. Brent neared despite your tearful grimace, his lips barely brushing yours before he was yanked off of you. You helplessly watched, relieved and terrified as Kun pulled him back and got in between you.

“Jesus, Brent--” Kun spat, “what the fuck do you think you're doing?!”

Brent immediately squared up against him. He towered over you, but he was still half a head taller than Kun. “Why is it your business, boy? We were just having a nice chat.”

“Didn’t look too nice to me,” Kun shook his head firmly, “I think you should go.”

“I don’t think you should talk to me like that in my own fucking home,” Brent glowered.

“And I don’t think I should tell Melissa that you hired an au pair just to fuck, but maybe we should both re-think things.” Kun stood his ground as Brent fumed, ultimately throwing a fist right for Kun that he managed to dodge. He tried again, this time Kun ducking and delivering his own punch to Brent’s stomach. Brent crumpled, the air knocked out of him as Kun grabbed your hand and your purse and pulled you into the door to the staff quarters. He flipped a lock on the inside of the door and marched you down the hall into his room as Brent knocked manically on the door.

Kun closed his bedroom door behind him and instantly caught you as you fell into him, all your frightful tears catching up to you and spilling onto his chest.

“Shh,” Kun soothed as he wrapped an arm back around your shoulders, careful not to overstep while you were in this state. He still held you close, stroking your hair.

“What’re you doing back already?” You asked into his shoulder.

“Been feeling off all week. Going out wasn’t helping, so I came back.”

“I’m so sorry,” you spoke into his shirt, dipping your head down into his chest.

“Sorry? Why the hell are you sorry?” Kun grabbed your shoulders, pushing you back just enough to look into your eyes. His jaw was set firm, his eyes still wild with adrenaline and anger.

“The other day when I saw you with Melissa by the pool,” you babbled, “I dunno, I just felt so jealous, and I just wanted you to pay attention to me like that, too, and it’s so stupid, Kun, I was so stupid--”

“No.” Kun said firmly. “That’s not stupid. You're not stupid. I should've talked to you instead of hiding away.” He let you go, taking a seat on the bed and exasperatedly pushing his face into his hands for a second. You took the opportunity to seat yourself at his desk, thankful that he chose the bed instead. “Melissa and I… It’s complicated. She’s lonely but she’s awful, and I need this job now that I have it. My name will be smeared all over town if I leave on bad terms, especially since I've never let her get everything she wants. But she still comes onto me, and even more since you came here.”

“So the other day?”

“I thought she was out at a meeting and I went for a swim. When I came up for air she was sitting there and got me to come out to talk and, well, you saw.” Kun’s eyes were downcast with his admission. “I'm sorry. And I'm sorry for what happened out there.”

“Is it true?” You asked. Kun perked his head back up to look at you. “Did Melissa not want me here?”

Kun sighed. “No.”

“Brent said she didn't want someone to come and be a better mother than her.”

“I know we've joked about it, but she's tried. It just hasn't come to her yet.”

“That's no excuse,” you shook your head, “she can only be so unaccepting. She can't hire me and hate me.”

“Sure she can. She’s stubborn.”

“That’s not fair, though.”

“No, it’s not.” Kun commiserated.

The silence settled in the room as Brent finally finished knocking down the hall.

“You look amazing, by the way.” Kun admitted quietly.

“Only in this?”

Kun shook his head. “All the time, but especially in this.”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“The whole… Melissa of it all. If I told you how beautiful are and how good talking to you feels, and how I adore how you taste my food and you don’t just eat it, and you talk to me and you don’t just listen… It would make everything difficult.”

Your patience hit the tipping point, and you were done waiting for something to happen for you. Kun watched curiously as you stood, crossing the couple short steps stand between his knees. His eyes closed as your fingertips pushed back through his hair, but they opened right back up as you gently lowered yourself onto his lap, your thighs on either side of his. Kun waited, wary of moving too fast for you. Only when you wrapped your arms around him did he return the gesture. You stroked his hair back again, and Kun took the hint to look into your eyes again.

“So we could've done this a long time ago?”

“We should’ve,” Kun replied. His hands gently pulled you closer where they rested on the small of your back. That was all the confirmation you needed. Your fingers threading back through his hair, you gently, finally, lovingly pressed your lips to his. This loosened him up even more, instantly matching and accelerating your growing passion.

“How much do--” he began asking against your neck as he placed a kiss below your ear.

“--Everything,” you answered promptly, “I want to make up for missed time.”

“Everything?” He clarified.

“Everything.”

Kun nodded with an eager grin, quickly sliding off his jacket and getting his fingers into the collar of his t-shirt. He pulled the shirt off and you were confronted with the heat coming off him. It was so inviting that you instantly reached for the zipper on the back of your dress, pulling it all the way down. You shrugged the sleeves off your shoulders, revealing the lacy bra you had on underneath. Kun nuzzled close, his hands gently on your breasts and trailing around back to the clasp as he drew your lips into another hungry kiss.

“What if we’d been doing this all along?” You smirked as he tossed your bra onto the desk chair. You grabbed his shirt off the bed and did the same.

“Well, I don’t think I could leave you alone,” he laughed as he kissed and groped your breasts. “It’d be pretty obvious that you're mine.”

“Think we could've prevented that out there?” You asked. Kun grimaced.

“Don't talk about it, but for what it's worth, sure. Instead of being here you would be out with me at dinner.”

“Tell me I'm yours again,” you smiled sweetly as you kissed his neck, a giggle escaping you when he shivered in return. Kun grabbed you around the waist and laid you down on the bed. The hem of your slinky dress was already raised on your hips. He made quick work of pulling off your panties, tossing these onto the desk chair as well.

“You’re all mine,” Kun said seriously as he laid against you, pressing up between your spread legs, “just like I'm all yours. And you only have to say so and I would leave with you.”

“You would?” You gasped as you reached between you to get his jeans open. His length warm in your hands drove you wild, all the emotions you were feeling only amplifying.

“Absolutely,” Kun assured you as he ground into your hand, “you think working here will be the same?”

“What about Carson?” You breathlessly asked as Kun’s own fingers began exploring your entrance.

“He’ll be fine as long as Ai’s here until she helps hire a new caretaker. And you’ll be fine. You’re going to be a perfect mother some day.” Those words made you throb in a way you never had before. Even Kun took notice of your interesting reaction as his firm cock probed into your dripping pussy. The wheels in his head visibly turned. “Are…” He carefully began, “are you on birth control?”

You nodded, catching up to his train of thought. A faint idea of what he meant was forming in your head, and you wanted to try. “Kun,” you breathed, “fuck me. Put a baby in me.”

Kun’s eyes lit up, the fire behind them practically burning you. “Say it again,” he ordered.

“Put a baby in me, Kun,” you begged sweetly.

Kun’s cock throbbed hard in you as began to fuck you in earnest. “Alright, now never say it again if you don’t want me to cum instantly,” he laughed breathlessly as he thrust against you.

“You sure? What if I ask you to cum in me and knock me up?” You smiled evilly and Kun groaned deep. He kissed you hard as you whined against him.

“Or,” you teased, your high heels tangling behind his back, “What if I say I want to make you a daddy?”

Kun let out another loud groan, his hips faltering against you. “And definitely never say that again,” he laughed desperately.

“Kun, Kun,” you pleaded, “it’s so good, you’re getting me there.”

“Yeah?” He gave you a naughty smile, “And you want me to cum, too, right? I'll fill you up and make you mine and put a baby in you?”

Your nails raked into Kun’s back, your feverish moans escaping you faster and more desperate as you neared your peak.

“Cum for me,” Kun ordered, his lips trailing over your shoulder, “cum for me and I promise I'll fill you up.”

You cried out with your orgasm, your tensed thighs clamping around Kun’s hips and he followed right after. He fell against you, your moans and sighs echoing against each other as your throbbing heat milked his cock dry. The two of you curled up into a sweating heap, breathing each other in in the afterglow.

“You meant it? About leaving together?” You finally asked. Kun panted his affirmation.

“I do. I'll strike a deal with Brent. No blacklisting and I won’t rat him out.”

“What about Melissa, though?”

“I’ll tell her once I find a new job. It just won't be obvious it's me.”

“Alright,” you nodded, still catching your breath in Kun’s arms, “so why should I?”

“Because I love you,” he whispered in return, and your heart was fit to burst.

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #wayv fanfiction #wayv fanfic #nct fanfiction #nct fanfic #wayv smut #nct smut #mystery member #SPOILERS AHEAD #qian kun #wayv kun #nct kun #jesus I created this like last autumn???

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pangolin-404 · 4 years

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Okay so: SCP 3,008, in all the depictions I've seen, is a flat space with only furniture.

Now, I'm not European or anything near where Ikea originated, but there's one near where I live. I went there exactly one(1) time, and...honestly, it's way different from endless sights of furniture and such.

There are walls. Very few, but there ARE walls. There were a few shelves with stuffed animals and chairs stacked up high. There were vending machines near checkout, a place to drop your kids off while you shopped, and an entire food court!

The main difference is: rooms. Little mini rooms, even mini HOUSES showing off themes and stuff. I've NEVER seen this in 3008 depictions.

The infinite Ikea wouldn't be flat. It'd have walls and rooms and whole ass neighborhoods! Which I think is way cooler than a wasteland. Groups of rooms and homes separated by thousands of feet of shelving, dressers, and beds. It'd be a lot cooler of it was a city- house districts, groups of people hoarding the food courts and keeping those sweet meatballs for themselves, people dismantling shopping cars and making caravans our of shelves and planks....endless possibilities!

Anyone else who lives near an Ikea, is yours like this, or is mine just weird?

#scp #scp 3008 #thoughts #scp posting

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c-is-for-circinate · 5 years

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C’s infinitely modifiable recipe for vaguely niceish dinner-including-vegetables 20 minutes after walking in the front door

Like many of us, my executive function is dead by the end of the day, especially if I’m tired, especially if I’m hungry, and figuring out How To Food when I need it most is hard as fuck, especially if my kitchen’s kind of messy and I stall out on needing supplies or space.

Also like many of us, I have a really hard time figuring out How To Vegetable, because I’m very afraid of buying fresh things that might go bad before I have the spoons to use them. And IDK about you, but I get really tired of eating the same thing all the time, so the only way to actually make myself get excited about cooking and eating is to have the option for variety.

Luckily for me, I’ve nailed ‘many, many pasta dishes I would not be ashamed to serve my mother’ down to a familiar, easy formula that I can follow with whatever I have on hand in the freezer and cabinets. Even better, knowing this formula helps me go grocery shopping, because I can buy specific canned, frozen, jarred, and refrigerate-able things knowing several different ways I can use them.

Maybe it will help you too! Maybe not! But it has made my life SO MUCH BETTER, so, as a gift from me to you, A Recipe (of sorts).

To start: Drop your shit by the door. Get out one frying pan, one pasta pot, and a wooden spoon or plastic spatula or whatever you have to cook with. It does not matter that the counter is a mess; all you need are two clear stove burners. There are almost no prep steps to fuck with your executive function and block you from starting this process as soon as you get home.

Step 1: Veggies Get some olive oil heating up in your pan on medium/low. While it’s warming up, go to your freezer and grab any frozen veggie you own: broccoli, peas, sliced bell peppers, zucchini, spinach, mixed medley, whatever. When the oil’s hot enough that a couple of drops of water sprinkled into it sizzle a bit but don’t spit, pour the veggies straight into the pan. (About 1/4 to 1/2 of a bag is usually plenty for me to make dinner + tomorrow’s lunch). If the oil is Way Too Hot, turn the burner down, wait briefly, and toss the veggies in anyway. They’re frozen, they’ll survive.

Step 2: Carbs If you’re doing regular pasta (or those great frozen raviolis they sell at the grocery store, for extra flavor/protein), stick a pot of heavily salted water on the hottest burner cranked up to high, slap a lid on it, and wait for it to boil. If you’re doing couscous or some other fun grain that cooks in 10 minutes or less, get that going however you usually make it. If you’ve got a bunch of leftover rice in the fridge from the other day’s takeout, wait until the veggies are mostly thawed and then toss it right into the frying pan. Break it up with the wooden spoon and add a little extra oil to make sure none of it’s too dry. (Sadly, this recipe is not scaled for potatoes.)

(Optional: Seasoning #1 If you happen to have minced garlic in your fridge, throw that shit in the frying pan when the veggies are mostly thawed. If all you’ve got is dried, that’s cool, wait for later. Make sure you add the liquid soon after, b/c garlic burns fast. This is also a good time to add ginger, if you have it on hand and the ingredients you’re planning to use work with it.)

Step 3: Liquid Grab a can of [black beans/tomatoes/coconut milk/crushed pineapple/literally whatever, use the condensed soup if you want, this recipe is ANYTHING GOES] from the cabinet, drain about half the liquid out of the can and throw the rest straight into the pan. OR snag a jar of [pre-made pesto/harissa/salsa/whatevs] from the fridge, and spoon in a big glop. (Use judgment here. Save half a can of things like coconut milk instead of draining it down the sink. If it all looks super dry you can add some a splash of broth, or juice, or milk, or wine, or whatever, but you shouldn’t need much--you’ll have pasta water for that in a minute, and your frozen veg probably produced a ton of liquid to begin with.)

Step 4: Cooking Get that pasta in the water as soon as it’s boiling. If you’re doing grains, check on them and do whatever you’re supposed to do to make the grains cook right. Turn up the heat on the stuff in the pan so it bubbles a little around the edges. The wetter all the stuff in your pan is, the hotter you want the burner. You’ve got a fair bit of leeway here; so long as you’ve still got liquid in there, and you vaguely keep an eye to make sure it doesn’t burn, this can keep going without damaging anything until your carbs are done. (Sugary liquids like orange juice or the syrup from canned fruit are more likely to burn, so keep a closer eye on those and cook them a little cooler.) This is a good point to wash out a bowl to eat out of if you don’t have a clean one. Shove just enough dirty dishes aside to make sure you’ve got enough space in the sink to drain the pasta.

(Optional: Meat/meat substitute We’re cooking fast tonight, so we’re going for precooked meat options. I’ve used canned tuna, frozen Ikea meatballs, leftover grocery store rotisserie chicken, frozen shrimp, fancypants gourmet chicken sausages (which freeze very well), jarred pulled pork I made in my crock pot three weekends earlier... Like everything else in this recipe, you can go as low-budget or as pretentiously gourmet as you like. Microwave frozen things on 50% for a minute or two in the bowl you’re planning to eat your dinner in, then throw them right into the frying pan.)

Step 5: Season (for real this time) Taste the stuff in your frying pan and decide what it needs. You can throw in dried spices or fresh or dried herbs, or splash in soy sauce or vinegar or sriracha, or anything else you use to season food. Season heavily, because your carbs are going to stretch all the flavors out, except for salt--you can add that once everything’s in the same pan.

Step 6: Combine When your starch is mostly-almost-done, drain most but not all of the liquid, and dump the pasta or quinoa or rice or whatever-you’ve-got right into the skillet. (Leaving in a little bit of pasta liquid will help thicken everything and stick it together.) Mix it all up with your trusty wooden spoon or plastic spatula or whatever you’re using and let it all hang out for a minute while you get your bowl. Here’s where you taste and add more salt if it really needs.

(Optional: Cheese If it’s been that kind of day and the stuff in your pan + the contents of your fridge offer up a tasty combination, turn the heat off and just dump a shitton of shredded cheese right into the pan. Mix everything fast so it all melts together from the heat of the pasta and it all gets melty and a little stringy and delicious.)

And that’s it! One Frozen Veggie + One Carby Base + One Wet Canned/Jarred Thing + a few minutes of cooking + some spices + optional meats and/or cheeses = dinner, fifteen to twenty minutes after walking in the front door, plus probably lunch for tomorrow along with it.

This is also very often my base recipe even when I’m working with fresh veggies or raw meat. Chopping fresh veggies adds an extra 5-10 minutes at the front end, depending on how many different kinds of vegetables I’m using. (Make sure any raw veggies go into the pan before any frozens, because they’ll take longer to cook.) If I’m working with raw meat or fish, or I’ve marinated tofu and I want it to get brown and tasty, I’ll generally season my protein and sautee it in the pan before I do anything else, then set it to the side in the bowl I plan to eat dinner in and cook everything else just the same as normal.

Obviously this takes a little bit of flavor-matching when it gets to the seasoning stage, but the whole ‘match a frozen thing to a canned/wet thing’ part is surprisingly forgiving, particularly if you stick to individual veggies instead of trying to play with one of those mixed vegetable medleys.

I generally season a few different ways based on my ‘wet’ ingredient:

Canned tomatoes --> tons of garlic, any vaguely Italian herbs like basil/oregano/fennel, mozzarella or Parmesan cheese

Black or red beans --> lots of chili powder, some garlic, sometimes other spices with a bite like paprika or ginger to round out the flavor for fun, usually cheddar or “southwestern cheese blend”

Canned fruit, orange juice or canned baby corn --> heavy ginger, some garlic, soy sauce, sometimes Chinese Five Spice if I have it around, no cheese

Coconut milk --> just ginger and garlic, OR something vaguely garam masala-like (cinnamon, cumin, cardamom, coriander, cloves, chili, plus also non-c spices like nutmeg and whatever else seems like it might be an okay idea), no cheese

Just broth --> any of the above, OR mustard and paprika, usually with cheddar (particularly if I can add frozen or fresh diced apples to a frozen veg like broccoli)

Pesto, harissa, salsa, and other jarred ingredients usually have tons of seasoning in them already, so I season lightly to enhance whatever they’ve already got going on

(Worth noting that I grew up on Italian cooking, so I think garlic belongs in everything and I’m very much not an expert on many flavor profiles--these are things that taste good to me, and a place that might work for you to start from if you don’t have a lot of ideas what you might like.)

Good luck! Happy cooking!

#food #recipes #I have no idea if this formula will be helpful to ANYBODY ANYWHERE #but it's helped me figure out how to eat vegetables and also meals that aren't completely out of a boxx #less sodium than kraft mac and cheese at least #so what the hell #maybe somebody else's life will be made slightly easier #by a general outline that can be adapted with lots of variations #and doesn't require an oven

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melladh · 3 years

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CAN THINGS STOP HAPPENING JUST A LITTLE BIT

Hey, let’s catch up! What’s been going on? Let’s start at the end of 2019. It’s not the start of things, but it’s the start of “I can’t remember when I had a break last”.

* Qila (cat) has diabetes and his UVIs are getting more frequent. As I’m crossing over to a new team at work, I spend a few days doing long drives back and forth between home and an offsite, to both participate and take care of my sick cat.

* As diabetes and UVIs can be worsened by distress, the decision is made to have dental surgery to remove his corner teeth that are affected with FORL, even though that’s a big surgery on a cat

* Amir (spouse) has a root filling crack one of his teeth open from below without him noticing, and it started to rot (which he DID notice). Emergency dental transport for spouse.

* Qila’s gums reject the stitches and the wound cracks open, leading it to need to be rinced with a mini metal tube twice daily (I can do this - though it’s not my favorite over christmas - and Qila is the friendliest cat to treat, he doesn’t like the treatment but is super happy and dances around for food)

* My colleague (level: interact with rarely, over the duration of many years) goes out for a jog and doesn’t come back. He’s had a heart attack and immediately died.

* Qila’s wound has just healed when he vomits blood, but still acts his happy self. ER gives him treatment for ulcer, which makes him feel very very bad.

* I barely sleep, focusing on Qila’s treatment. The blood vomiting stops, but he’s not doing okay. UVIs get frequent and worse, treatment for ulcer makes him feel really bad, and eventually his diabetes gets so bad there’s not much cat left. He might have cancer, hidden by the UVI-triggered inflammations. We have to put him down.

* My best friend gets diagnosed with cancer

* Amir breaks his foot

* The pandemic starts, and in my country, only dotcom companies take it seriously. We’re moved entirely remote, offices close, while everyone else goes about their daily business like nothing’s happened. People here are dying.

* Amir has a followup complication of his tooth removal and has to be taken to the dental ER again.

* My dad’s bloodwork comes back suggesting cancer (cleared some months later)

* My mom fall off her bike and damages her knee

* Parents keep travelling forth and back between their vacation house and permanent home, to my constant stress and trying to tell them they have to be more careful. My own poor immune system prevents me from seeing them other than a garden tea break every two months or so (as I cannot trust their judgement when they say they’re being careful but also they’re going to ikea)

* Mom goes in for knee surgery (turns out okay)

* Amir’s mom has frequent falls in her apartment where she refuses to use her walking aid, and is forced to be moved to a care home (with her agreeing). The official helping her with her finances (as it’s too hard for her) immediately pushes to sell the apartment. Amir is anxious enough to just agree, but I step in and postpone it. (let her land first, let her have a chance to get things she’s forgotten, let us go there and check at some point so nothing important gets discarded)

* We drive through pandemic times and my travel migraine and Amir’s anxiety, to get to spend all of four hours going through an entire dementia level apartment for important things (we send her prayer kit and rosary to the care home, her most favored rings, jackets she love but they didn’t find). We save some keepsakes for ourselves (things she’s painted etc)

* Christmas anxiety heightens as I try to convince my parents to not come back from their vacation home (it’s not like they can spend christmas with me anyway) - our death numbers are growing, the pandemic is harder in the cold with the seasonal flu adding to it. They try to give me the “happy news” that they’re coming back here after all. I snap at them. They seem to get the point, and decide to stay away. I calm down for probably a whole day.

* I get an “asthma cold” (bacterial issues due to nasal cavity cracks) which most likely isn’t covid but is really stressful

* Amir gets “food poisoning”, but I eventually manage to diagnose him with appendicitis and have to drive him to the ER (while still having my cold)

* Get into minor car collision at ER due to blocked view, panic and being affected by my cold, i.e. it was entirely my fault (the guy I hit was the nicest person in the world, and I am infinitely grateful for his calm and caring attitude)

* Amir gets officially diagnosed with appendicitis “which doesn’t look that bad” and shuffled to another ER, which I have to come drive him to (no more accidents, but it’s close because that first ER’s parking lot is a nightmare)

* Amir is received at the new ER and forgotten about in the waiting room for several hours, until he gathers enough energy to forcefully insist they verify that he’s gotten properly checked in (he has not). He is severely dehydrated from diarrhoea and vomiting and being forbidden to drink anything since 9AM. It’s 11PM. He gets a room shortly after, but they’re too overworked to give him the surgery. He falls asleep around 6AM.

* Amir gets his surgery 11AM. His appendix has burst while waiting. When he comes home, he’s on three types of antibiotics and three types of painkillers. He sleeps in the guest room and we minimize contact in case he’s picked up covid at the hospital.

* Skrållan (my cat) has a lump on her nose. It doesn’t seem hard or painful but she’s sneezing. I wait with anxiety for two or three days, then it goes away.

* Skrållan gets a runny eye, but nothing worse.

* Skrållan develops a mild eye infection (not bothered, just some yellow runs from that eye). Gets treated with antibiotics.

* I find a tiny lump in Skrållan’s abdomen, and schedule another vet appointment.

...and now you’re caught up.

#rants #2020 #and more

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let-them-eat-rakes · 4 years

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A PERFECTLY NORMAL, REGULAR OLD IKEA

Item #: SCP-3008

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: The retail park containing SCP-3008 has been purchased by the Foundation and converted into Site-██. All public roads leading to or passing by Site-██ have been redirected.

The entrance to SCP-3008 is to be monitored at all times, and no one is to enter SCP-3008 outside of testing, as permitted by the Senior Researcher.

Humans exiting SCP-3008 are to be detained and then debriefed prior to the administration of amnestics. Dependent upon the duration of their stay in SCP-3008, a cover story may need to be generated prior to their release.

Any other entities exiting SCP-3008 are to be terminated.

Description: SCP-3008 is a large retail unit previously owned by and branded as IKEA, a popular furniture retail chain. A person entering SCP-3008 through the main entrance and then passing out of sight of the doors will find themselves translocated to SCP-3008-1. This displacement will typically go unnoticed as no change will occur from the perspective of the victim; they will generally not become aware until they try to return to the entrance.

SCP-3008-1 is a space resembling the inside of an IKEA furniture store, extending far beyond the limits of what could physically be contained within the dimensions of the retail unit. Current measurements indicate an area of at least 10km2 with no visible external terminators detected in any direction. Inconclusive results from the use of laser rangefinders has led to the speculation that the space may be infinite.

SCP-3008-1 is inhabited by an unknown number of civilians trapped within prior to containment. Gathered data suggests they have formed a rudimentary civilisation within SCP-3008-1, including the construction of settlements and fortifications for the purpose of defending against SCP-3008-2.

SCP-3008-2 are humanoid entities that exist within SCP-3008-1. While superficially resembling humans they possess exaggerated and inconsistent bodily proportions, often described as being too short or too tall. They possess no facial features and in all observed cases wear a yellow shirt and blue trousers consistent with the IKEA employee uniform.

SCP-3008-1 has a rudimentary day-night cycle, determined by the overhead lighting within the space activating and deactivating at times consistent with the opening and closing times of the original retail store. During the "night" instances of SCP-3008-2 will become violent towards all other lifeforms within SCP-3008-1. During these bouts of violence they have been heard to vocalise phrases in English that are typically variations of "The store is now closed, please exit the building". Once "day" begins SCP-3008-2 instances immediately become passive and begin moving throughout SCP-3008-1 seemingly at random. They are unresponsive to questioning or other verbal cues in this state, though will react violently if attacked.

SCP-3008-1 is known to have one or more exits located within though these exits do not appear to have a fixed position, making it difficult to leave SCP-3008-1 once inside. Using any other door besides the main entrance to enter the structure or breaking through the walls of the retail unit leads into the non-anomalous interior of the original store.

Since containment began 14 individuals have managed to exit SCP-3008. Following extensive debriefing all individuals have been administered amnestics and released.

Incident 3008-1: At 00:37 on ██/██/200█ a human male exited SCP-3008, followed 10 seconds later by an instance of SCP-3008-2. SCP-3008-2 caught and killed the man before itself being terminated by armed response personnel. This incident represents the only time an instance of SCP-3008-2 has been seen exiting SCP-3008. A full autopsy on the corpse was performed; see 3008-2 Autopsy Log for more details.

The man was carrying an IKEA-branded journal seeming to document his time in SCP-3008-1, transcribed below verbatim.

- Close Journal

So, I'm writing this to document what I can only assume is my sudden descent into insanity. I can't possibly be THAT bad a navigator, and yet as I write this I've been trapped in Ikea for 2 days. I haven't seen another person in the entire time I've been here. I thought it was a prank at first. Turn the place into a maze, get all the people out and see how long it takes me to get lost, then everyone has a good old laugh. Realised that wasn't the case when I tried to backtrack. Everything had changed, so I ended up lost. Instead of the exit, it was just row after row of bookcases.

So, I'm trapped in Ikea. Sounds like the setup for a bad joke. The lights went out at 10pm. Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack, that loud electrical THUNK sound and then pitch blackness. Place is full of beds though and my phone has a torch on it - but no damn signal - so I found a bed and went to sleep. Spent most of the next day trying to find my way out with no luck. Did find a restaurant serving those meatballs though, so at least I won't starve. That's probably the punchline to that joke. Anyway they were still warm and fresh, but I haven't seen anyone around who could have cooked them. Made my way back to the beds before the lights cut out again since it's too dark to search with them off.

It's 9.10am now, the lights came back on a little while ago. I'm sure I've searched the entire area around where I came in now and the exit obviously isn't here, so I'm going to pick a direction and hope for the best.

Day 3 of my magical Ikea mystery adventure. If I wasn't sure that there was something seriously weird about this place before, I am now. Walked for 3 hours in a more or less straight line (insert Ikea joke here) before I came across a ladder next to one of those huge stock shelves they have here. Climbed up to get my bearings, and it looks like this place just stretches on forever. Like that scene from the Lion King, except instead of trees and grass it was all shelves and tables and crap. I did see a person moving not too far away though, so I headed over.

Thought it was a staff member at first - it was wearing the uniform. And hell maybe it was, maybe freakish 7ft tall monsters with long arms, short legs and no faces are just the kinds of thing they want working at Super Ikea. Damn thing completely ignored me though, and with no eyes or ears I can't even be sure it knew I was there. Thought about shoving it or something to get its attention, but its hands were big enough to crush a water melon so I decided against it. It just kept moving along and eventually I lost sight of it so I decided to carry on the way I was going.

Anyway, no comfy bed for me tonight. Looks like I've entered the Improbably Hard and Pointy Table section of the store. Guess I'll have to make do with some bunched up tablecloths. Phone battery died during the day too. Didn't work anyway, but I feel like I've just lost some vital lifeline.

You ever see one of those cartoons where they're going through doors in a hallway and they just pop out of another door in the same hallway? That's how I feel right now. I've seen nothing but the same identical bookshelf for 2 days now. Just row after row after row of them. I mean, come on. I love books as much as the next guy, but this is excessive. I'm obviously still moving forwards though, I can see the signs hanging overhead passing by. Too bad none of them say "Exit".

Not sure who I was addressing that question to. Lets just say it was practice for the autobiography I'm going to write when I get out of here. I'll call it "My perfectly normal trip to a regular old Ikea".

If I ever get out o

Finally found some other people! Yeah, turns out I'm not the only poor bastard trapped in here. Lucky for me, I guess. My 6th night here, 2 of those staff things came at me in the dark. Different from the first one I saw, but still messed up. Heard them coming, they were saying that the store was closed and I had to leave the building, all nice and polite like. I'm not sure which part of that was weirder, that they don't have mouths or that they were apparently trying to kill me while they were saying it. Came at me like rabid dogs.

So, I legged it. Sprinting through ikea in the dark like a fucking madman. I saw it when I cleared another stand of those giant stock shelves, all lit up with torches and floodlights. They've built a whole town in here! Got a massive wall built out of shelves and beds and tables and whatever else. I swear to god it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Anyway I guess they saw me coming (or maybe they heard my girlish manly bellows of fear), because they had a gate open and 2 people were there waving me in. Heard the staff things slam into the gate behind me after it closed, still politely informing us all that the store was now closed. They wandered off eventually though.

They call the town Exchange, because that's whats on the sign hanging from the ceiling directly above it. Exchange and Returns. All lit up against the night using lights they've found and plugged into the power lines. And there are beds and food and people. Over 50 wonderful people with regular sized limbs and a full set of facial features. It's now my 7th night here, and the first one not spent in darkness. A full week living in Ikea. There's probably a TV show in that somewhere.

Now that I'm around other people, I'm starting to feel more normal. Maybe normal isn't the word. But after a week with only the sound of my own footsteps for company, I was becoming increasingly sure that I'd just gone nuts. That I was tied up in some padded room somewhere, banging my head against the wall. But no, I feel quite sane now, thank you very much!

Apparently there are other towns out there. Some with more people, some with less. I found that fairly mind-boggling - how can that many people go missing with no one noticing. Surely someone would have noticed that everyone who goes to ikea seems to fucking vanish. Or maybe it's not everyone. Maybe we're just the lucky ones.

The people here just call those staff monster things the Staff. Apparently they are fine during the day, minding their own business walking the aisles. As soon as those lights go out though, they go fucking bonkers. So during the day people go out to find food, water and whatever else they need. Apparently there are restaurants and shops around that randomly get restocked. No one knows how. Maybe the staff do it. Apparently they aren't very good at their jobs though because the restocking sometimes takes a while, which means the food needs to be rationed. Maybe if they weren't so busy chasing people around in the dark they'd get more done.

Anyway when night comes the staff go nuts and everyone holds up inside the walls. Apparently it's the same everywhere in this place, whatever this place is. The Ur-Ikea, from whence all other Ikeas sprang. Or maybe we're all still just in the regular ikea and this is all some fever dream brought on by mind-numbing boredom. Who knows.

Been here for 10 days now. Most of the people I asked said they stopped keeping track a long time ago and one guy, Chris, said he'd been in here for years.

Years.

[ILLEGIBLE SCRIBBLES]

Apparently there are rumours of people who do manage to get out. And of people who see the exit, only to have it vanish before their very eyes. I get the feeling not everyone believes that, but I do. Explains how we got stuck in here in the first place (sort of). And I mean, come on. Staff monsters, row after endless row of high quality Swedish furniture. I don't know why they would find a disappearing door so hard to believe in.

Anyway, I went out scavenging for food at a nearby shop with Sandra and Jerry today. Once you learn the landmarks of this place it's not so hard to navigate. The overhead signs help a lot, but there are others; not too far in the distance a huge section of those giant stock shelves has collapsed against each other and way off in the east (we all assume it's east anyway - apparently Ikea doesn't sell compasses) is some kind of tower that looks like its made of wood, reaches all the way to the ceiling. Maybe they were trying to break out through the roof. Lights up at night so there must be people there, but its apparently a few days walk (which means it must be miles away) so no one here really knows for sure. Apparently I got incredibly lucky sleeping out in the open for a week without getting ripped to bits by the staff. That's me. Lucky lucky lucky.

We found some food in the shop. Guess the staff restocked it during the night, which was nice of them. There was a telephone on the wall, so I figured I'd try it out. There was a voice on the other end, but they were just talking nonsense. Random words strung together with no real meaning. You ever see a video of someone with aphasia? Kind of sounded like that. Didn't answer me when I spoke to them anyway. Sandra says all the phones in here are the same.

Oops, asking the journal questions again!

I was thinking last night. The ceiling on this place is pretty high and as far as anyone can tell it goes on forever. Shouldn't there be some kind of weather in here? I'm sure I read about some NASA building that was so big it had its own weather patterns, with clouds and stuff. This place is definitely bigger than that, but now that I think about it I'm pretty sure I've never felt so much as a temperature change in here.

I'll add it to the Grand List of Weird Bullshit.

The staff attacked the Exchange last night. Must have been 20 or 30 of them all just asking us to leave the store calm as you like, while trying to smash the walls down with their bare hands. Apparently this happens pretty regularly, so everyone is prepared for it. Knives from the restaurants, lawn mower blades made into hatchets, a fire axe. One guy, Wasim, even made a functional crossbow. Anyway the walls have holes in them, which I hadn't noticed before, specifically so we can stab out at the staff when they attack. Took a couple of them down myself. They don't seem to bleed, which is weird, but they go down as easy as a regular person once you start sticking holes in them.

We had to haul the bodies away in the morning. Apparently the dead ones will attract more during the night, so we had to get them away from Exchange. We have a couple of those trolley things they use to move big boxes around, so we loaded them up and took them over to Pickup. Apparently people just name everything in here after whatever sign is hanging overhead.

Pickup was grisly. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of dead staff all piled up. There was no smell, which was a blessing. Apparently in addition to not bleeding, these things don't rot either. My curiosity got the better of me while we were unloading them, so I took a look at one of the more cut-up ones. They're just skin, or something that looks like skin, all the way through. No muscle, no bone, no organs. Are they even really alive in the first place? They certainly seem like they have bones when they are moving around, pounding on the walls. And I'm sure I felt more resistance than just skin when the knife went in during the night. Maybe something happens to them when they die. Just one more thing on the ever-increasing list of Weird Shit that goes on in here, I guess.

Something occurred to me, after the staff attack the other night. Every time you see a situation like this on TV or in a film, like its the end of the world or everyone is trapped on an island or whatever, once groups like ours start to form people always seem to turn on each other. Fighting for food or dominance or whatever else. That hasn't happened here. Apparently people from other towns come by from time to time, just to check in or occasionally to trade if they are short on something. But everything is always cordial. Friendly, even. Maybe its the threat of the staff, or perhaps the constant restocking of supplies in the shops means there's nothing much to fight over.

Maybe people are just better than they are generally given credit for. That's a nice thought. I think I'll go with that one.

A dozen people showed up at the gates this afternoon from a town called Trolleys. Apparently the staff broke through the walls and tore the town apart during the night. These 12 are the only survivors out of over a hundred. We let them in, obviously. One more point in the human decency column. Later, I asked if anyone knew how many of these towns there were out there. Between us and the new folks, we managed to come up with over 20 names. 20 towns filled with people, and who knows how many beyond that.

The motto for this place should be "How Is That Even Possible". Surely someone, somewhere must be looking for the thousands of people that must be in here.

I've been here for a little over 2 months now. Not that much changes, as it turns out. A couple of new people showed up, same story as the rest of us. Nice little trip to Ikea and suddenly they're trapped in Billy Bookcase's House of Faceless Weirdos. The staff attack the Exchange once or twice a week. We kill them and haul their bodies off, sometimes they hurt some of us first. They killed a guy called Jared a couple of weeks back. It was awful, frankly. Turns out regular humans still bleed in here, even if the staff don't. We tried our best, but none of us are doctors.

Jared was a good guy. He deserved better. We all do.

It occurred to me a couple of days after that, none of us were really looking for a way out of here. I don't even know where we'd start.

One of those quad copter things with a camera attached buzzed passed Exchange today. I thought it meant that someone was finally looking for us, that help was on the way. Apparently it's not the first time this has happened, though. Same thing happened a few months ago, and everyone is still here.

No idea if it saw us, it didn't stop if it did. Just kept flying until we could no longer see it.

Note: Based on recovery time of the journal, this entry appears to line up approximately with our first successful test piloting a drone inside SCP-3008-1. Analysis of footage shows a walled settlement under a sign labelled "Exchange and Returns". Attempts to relocate the settlement failed. Origin of previously sighted drones is unknown.

I started talking to people about the stuff they miss from home during dinner today. Probably not the best idea I've ever had, everyone seemed pretty down after. A bunch of people here have families. Husbands and wives, kids. Dogs. Franklin apparently has a pet llama, though I'm not sure I buy that.

But apparently some of the people here have some seriously odd gaps in their knowledge. 3 of them had never heard of the International Space Station, 2 of them seemed to think █████ ███████ was the Prime Minister, and one of them had apparently never heard of the Statue of Liberty. I believe them, too. They seemed just as confused as the rest of us.

The more I thought about it though, the more it started to explain a few things. What if the reason no one is looking for all us missing people is because we haven't all come from the same place. This is going to sound weird (maybe that should be the motto for this place) but what if all the people here have come from different dimensions? Realities? Whatever you call it. I've seen enough TV shows to know the drill. Sarah comes from a place where there is no Statue of Liberty. They didn't launch a space station where Wasim is from. If everyone here came from different places, even from ones that seem identical, there'd be no huge missing persons panic. No mass search. We'd just be a blip, a single missing person in a world of non-stop news.

Well. That was a fun train of thought.

Just realised that yesterday was the six month anniversary of my arrival here. I wonder if Ikea sells party hats. The routine around here has remained more or less the same. More new folk show up, one every couple of weeks or so. Food supplies go up and down, but we've never actually had a major shortage. Occasionally we get a visitor from one of the nearby towns, usually Checkouts or Aisle 630. We check in with each other from time to time, occasionally trade supplies if someone gets particularly low on something. It's comforting, in a way. A reminder that we aren't alone in here, some small glimmer of civilisation. Sometimes they bring medical supplies. Apparently there's a pharmacy a few towns down from Checkouts that gets restocked every now and then, so they share out what they can. I've never heard of an Ikea with a pharmacy before but at this point I wouldn't be surprised if someone stumbled on an Ikea Organ Harvesting Lab. Would certainly explain the staff.

Speaking of our faceless jailers, their attacks have been getting worse lately. 3 or 4 times a week now, with twice as many staff as there used to be. No idea where they all come from, or why the attacks have increased. We tried following one of them during the day a few weeks ago, me and Sarah. Wanted to see if they lead back to a staff room or something. Didn't seem to go anywhere though, just randomly walked through the aisles. We had to turn back before we found anything.

We've been reinforcing the walls, trying to arm ourselves better. Certainly no lack of materials to use. Wasim has been making more crossbows, but it's pretty slow going.

Too bad Ikea doesn't sell guns.

Note: No new personnel have entered SCP-3008 at Site-██ in the time span indicated in this entry.

The attacks are getting bad now. Almost every night, and with so many staff that the bodies almost pile high enough for others to climb the walls. I think we're in real trouble here.

Exchange is

I think Exchange is done. We got hit pretty bad last night. Not many casualties, but the wall is wrecked. We finally figured out why the attacks had been escalating, too. A box of supplies had a chunk of one of the staff in there. No idea how it happened but apparently a piece of one will draw them as well as a full body. Too late now in any case, there's too many bodies for us to haul away and still have time to fix the wall before night. Candace has called a meeting. I suspect there will be talk of abandoning Exchange, maybe try and get shelter at Checkouts or something.

It's already getting late though. I don't think we'll have time to make it. Maybe some of us will. I was fine for that first week out in the dark, after all. But then, how often can I keep getting lucky.

I'm only writing this for a sense of closure, I guess. For me, or for anyone who finds this. If this is the final entry here, I hope whoever is reading this is doing so from outside of this place.

My biggest fear? If I do die tonight, I'll just wake up here again in the morning.

Note: This is the last entry. It is assumed that while attempting to reach the "Checkouts" settlement he was separated from the rest of his group by a pursuing SCP-3008-2 instance and happened upon the exit.

#scp #scp fandom #scp foundation #scp 3008 #ikea #posted from a pile of leaves #let them eat rakes

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girlinthepictureframe · 5 years

Text

The Briefest Kiss Part 18A

Alex saw him standing near the entrance, next to Matt, rolling his eyes hard at whatever his drummer was laughing at. At least they had made up! If there was one thing he hated, it was being stuck in the middle while two people he cared about were fighting. As he grabbed his bag and made his way towards them, Matt left for the inside. Miles remained. Waiting. Smiling.

Not even bothering to fight his own smile, Alex walked up to him and dropped his bag, wordlessly hauling him in for a fierce hug and an entirely inappropriate, completely drawn out kiss on the cheek. “Hi.”

“Hi,” replied Miles, beaming radiantly at him, letting his hands linger on Alex's waist.

Alex tried not to lick his lips as he took in Miles' appearance. Even in the blistering heat he managed to look like a freaking GQ model. His smile morphed into an almost roguish grin as Miles' lingering hands left burn marks beneath his shirt. “Waiting for me?”

“Always.” The smile on Miles’ face shifted as well, taking its own turn towards something a little slyer. “Spoke to Zack last night.” Miles picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder, then reached for Alex’s bag and picked it up as well. “Told him I was exhausted and badly needed a day of vacation. He actually felt sorry for me. Offered me the big bedroom with the balcony and private bathroom.”

Alex chuckled. He was actually impressed. Miles rarely ever played the pity card. “Well done!” He wanted to grab his bag from him, but Miles refused to let go. “You don’t have to carry my bag! I can do it.”

“I know.” Miles leaned in, quickly pecked Alex’s cheek and shrugged. “Come on. You are bunking with me, right?”

Eyes still stuck on the bag, Alex felt the oddest sensation in his chest. It was such a simple, kind gesture. They had carried each other’s bags and whatnots a hundred times. But this time, it was different. It felt like it meant something more. But what?

“Al?”

“Huh?”

“I asked, you are bunking with me, right? You drifted off there for a moment.”

Alex tried to shrug that curious feeling off. “Depends,” he answered Miles’ question. “Is there a spare couch that you can sleep on?”

Miles bumped Alex’s shoulder playfully. “Funny. If anyone’s sleeping on the couch, it’s you!”

“Here’s a novel idea,” suggested Alex, laughing, “we could share the bed?” As though there was any doubt that they wouldn’t do that anyway.

Miles dragged his teeth across his bottom lip, distracting Alex. “I don’t know, Al. We’ve done it few times and I’ve noticed something alarming.”

“You have?” Alex forced his eyes away from Miles’ mouth and fell in line behind him as they made their way up the winding staircase. For no good reason at all, but simply because he wanted to and because he felt peculiarly possessive about Miles lately, he reached out and curled his finger through a belt loop on the back of Miles’ pants.

Miles smirked, but didn’t comment on that, instead elaborated on his observation. “You always steal my pillow. I don’t think that’s fair.”

Alex could point out that, in response to him stealing Miles’ pillow, Miles usually ended up sleeping on Alex’s chest, something he rather enjoyed. But he didn’t feel like admitting that and just grinned instead. “You should really just get used to that.” As the words slipped from his lips it dawned on him that somewhere along way sharing a bed with Miles had stopped being a rare or random occurrence. Instead, it had become the new normal. And in his head, Alex could no longer imagine a future in which Miles’ bed would be off limits to him. Did Miles feel the same? Should they talk about that?

“Fellas! Welcome!” Zack was standing in the middle of the hallway of the first floor, holding a bunch of room keys. “Turner, I have you at left end of the hallway. Kane, as promised, main bedroom. Right side!” He held out two keys.

Alex took the one which was aimed at Miles. “We’ll share. Thanks.”

“Whatever,” shrugged Zack. “Means we got one more room to offer and somebody won’t have to sleep on the couch tonight. Big room is that way,” he said, pointing towards the end of the hallway. “Every room comes with a gift basket. I personally selected the items. Food will be ready in an hour. Help yourself to drinks. And enjoy your stay at Zack’s magnificent party castle!”

Miles laughed as he made his way towards the room. “Wonder what gifts has chosen!”

Alex, who’d walked ahead and unlocked, entered the room first, made a quick stop by the windows to open them wide and then took in the bedroom. “Well…” It was an old and sprawling French villa. Naturally, the decor was sprawling as well. He blew out a breath as he attempted to find something nice to say. “The bed looks…big.”

“And gaudy,” said Miles, who had no problems stating the tacky truth. “A whole lot of wood!”

Alex busted out in laughter. “And condoms!” He held up Zack’s basket, wiggling it in front of Miles’ eyes. “Lube, massage gel, a vibrator and, surprisingly, peanuts. What kind of party is this? Did we miss something?” He dug around the basket some more and pulled out a paper door sign. “Check this out, Mi!” He held up the sign, which had two sides. “Don’t knock, just enter, or,” read Alex, turning the sign around, “Don’t enter, just knock.”

Miles’ eyes were getting teary from laughing. “We’re bloody locking the door tonight!”

“Maybe barricade it, too! Thank God we have our own bathroom!”

Dropping down on the large and almost intimidating bed, Miles closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. “This mattress is very comfortable!”

“Yeah?” Alex dropped down next to Miles. “True, that.” Then he rolled to his side, popped his head on his arm and watched his friend. He seemed content and at ease and susceptible to granting favors. “Mi?”

“Mmm.”

“How much do you like me?”

Miles opened his eyes carefully. There was a hint of alarm in them, Alex could tell. It reverberated in Miles' voice. “Why?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Alex looked down sheepishly. “I know you leave for Portugal tomorrow. And that you have your show on Sunday. Monday is your day off and you told me you plan on spending it at the beach. Which you should do. Enjoy it, I mean that. But your next gig after that isn’t until Saturday. And it’s in Brussels. My place is sort of in the middle of that.” He began playing with a loose threat of Miles’ sleeve. A nervous gesture. “And…er…I mean you could come to Paris on Tuesday and leave on Thursday and still have plenty of time to rehearse and stuff like that.”

“Are you asking me to spend time with you next week?” Miles sounded doubtful.

Alex smiled cheekily. “I told you about my plans for a new bedroom, right? Got rid of the old one and bought a new bed and new bedside tables. Found it in a little furniture store just outside of Paris. They’ll deliver and set it all up. But they didn’t have a dresser, so I ordered one online a—”

“You? Ordered online?” asked Miles incredulously.

Alex rolled his eyes. What was with his need for details? “Asked my mom to order it online.” Miles was laughing again. “I knew that would happen!”

“Sorry,” wheezed Miles. “Go ahead, keep telling me about the dresser.”

A few inaudible grumbles later, Alex continued. “Anyway, she ordered it from Ikea…”

The laughing got louder. Alex rolled his eyes again. Harder this time. “Would you stop it? It’s a really nice dresser! Fits perfectly to the rest of the new stuff. But I have to assemble it myself. So, I was wondering if you have time to assemble it with me?” Which, and that part Alex didn’t voice, also presented a perfectly legitimate opportunity to have Miles visit him for a few days. “You’re my best friend,” Alex pointedly reminded him. “It’s what best friends do!”

Miles’ laughter ceased into a smile. “I’ll help, alright. I’ll be there on Tuesday.”

Alex was delighted. He leaned down and gave him a quick kiss. “Thank you!”

“That’s all I get?” Miles looked up at him, pouting. “One lousy little kiss?”

Alex grinned slyly. “You haven’t done anything yet. And if you keep calling my kisses lousy, that little peck will remain all you get.”

“In that case, I meant to call your kiss magnificent.” Miles leaned up on his arms, smirking. “Ardent. Breathtaking. Thunderous!”

Alex smiled hard. “Oh really?” His head dipped lower. The fact that Mr. Boundaries himself was practically begging for a kiss did wicked things to his confidence. He’d never doubted his abilities to turn his partners on but to have this effect on Miles was infinitely more exciting.

“A thing of beauty. A new world.” Miles’ voice grew huskier with each word. His lips were only a hair’s breadth apart from Alex’s. “A dream.”

“It was a lousy little kiss, wasn’t it?” whispered Alex. The tip of his tongue darted out, licked along the top of Miles’ upper lip, then trailed languidly along the curve of the lower one. “Better?” Another lick. “Is this more to your liking?” Then he placed a slow, but firm kiss on Miles’ mouth, melting together for a moment. “Or this?” He did it again. Then ghosted his lips against Miles’ earlobe, brushed his tongue against his jawline and bit down gently into the skin of his neck. “Do you want my kiss elsewhere?”

“I want your lips elsewhere,” croaked Miles.

Alex leaned up just enough to catch Miles’ dusky eyes. He raised a brow and grinned. That was a surprisingly blunt and strikingly hot admission from his friend, who now had a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “Is that so?” His hand wandered from Miles’ sleeve to his chest and began toying with the fabric of his shirt’s collar. “Tell me,” he demanded, his voice affected, excited, “where would you like my lips to go? Maybe I can help you out.”

Miles groaned, grabbed Alex’s hand, stopped him from touching his neck. “Stop teasing me,” he begged. “There’s a party downstairs, we have to go down, we—” He swallowed hard when Alex bit his earlobe. “Stop…”

“Zack is giving his guests sex toys,” hushed Alex, licking the spot he’d just bitten, finding it utterly erotic to watch Miles writhe beneath his slight little touches. “He expects people to show up late!”

“Hey, guys, ready to— use the fucking door sign,” yelled Matt, who had not knocked, and now no doubt wished he had. “Meet you down in a few!”

Alex let go of Miles, laid backwards on the bed. He wanted to scream in frustration. “You didn’t lock the door!?”

Miles rolled away from Alex, onto his stomach, and buried his face in his arms. “I didn’t plan on…this!”

“Well, neither did I,” Alex let him know and rubbed his face, desperate for a relief and suddenly so far away from one! “Argh!” He got off the bed, walked wordlessly into the bathroom and came to a halt in front of the basin, staring into the large mirror. He felt even worse than he looked, which he considered a remarkable achievement. Letting his view drop low, he saw the bulge in his pants and wanted to cry. That one wouldn’t go away by itself, realized Alex, and undid his pants. “Go ahead,” he called for Miles. “I’ll meet you downstairs!” He pushed his pants down, then his briefs, and grabbed himself, giving himself a few good, long strokes.

“What did you—”

Alex stared at Miles as he stood in the doorway. With one hand on his cock and the other one holding onto the basin, he wasn’t sure what to do or say. Not that he could do much or say anything. His head had little to no blood left at all. His body was pulsating with arousal. And having Miles watch him like that, with a look so fucking hungry that it made him growl, had Alex on the very edge of explosion already. His hand moved, involuntarily. A single stroke up his cock. It was aching so badly.

Miles’ eyes were glued to it, he was licking his lips. “Should have knocked,” he muttered, his voice thick and raspy. He took a step towards Alex, who in return took the shakiest step backwards. Miles moved another step towards him. Alex was losing his mind. He’d never experienced a moment more intense than this one. Miles made one more step. And then he was standing right in front of him. “Tell me what to do,” he whispered, stealing Alex’s breath right from his lips. “Should I go?”

No. No, going was the last thing Alex wanted him to do. He shook his head.

“Should I stay?” asked Miles, uneven and almost inaudibly.

Alex nodded. It was such a vulnerable moment, to be standing like that in front of another person. But in front of Miles, Alex didn’t feel shy or embarrassed. Not even exposed. The opposite. He felt wanted. He felt desired. And he felt unfathomably unsatisfied! “Miles…” His head tilted forward. Noses were touching. Eyes were fluttering.

Miles held his breath as he slowly reached out, placing his hand on top of Alex’s, circling the girth of his erection. Alex gasped. His eyes slammed shut. His other hand grabbed the basin more tightly, clawing it almost. When Miles caught Alex’s lips in a kiss so hard that it hurt in the most deliriously enjoyable way, his legs gave out and Alex drooped forward, pressed against Miles’ hard chest.

Miles gave him the softest of smiles as he nuzzled along his jaw. “Talk to me.” His fist moved up and down his cock. “Tell me how you want me to touch you.” He gave him a light squeeze. “Do you want slow and gentle?” A kiss on along the jaw. “Or hard and fast?” He nipped his neck. Alex shuddered.

“Hard,” Alex managed to say. “Want it hard.”

And Miles obliged. His fingers tightened their grip for a moment. Then he let go. Alex grunted in objection. “Don’t!”

Keeping his lips on Alex’s jaw, Miles reassured him. “Patient.” He grabbed the small sample sized tube of lotion next to the hand soap, squeezed some of it into his hand and retook his hold on Alex’s hardness.

Alex shivered at the coldness of the lotion first and then, he shivered for an entirely different reason. As Miles began to stroke him faster, stronger, harder, he suckled on the tender skin on his neck. All of it was becoming too much. Alex transformed into a puddle of molten desire. He needed more, needed to taste, to feel, to do something!

He unbuckled Miles’ pants with frantic motions, squeezed some lotion onto his hand and reached into his friend’s briefs, finding him hard and big and precisely as he remembered him to be. Sinking his teeth into Miles’ shoulders, he took unabashed pleasure in the carnal, guttural sounds of arousal that spilled from his throat. His pace matched Miles and it didn’t take long for them to get there. The silence of the bathroom was drowned out by the salacious sounds of heavy breathing, skin on skin, lewd moans and grunting.

Alex watched as both of them came together, spilling on each other’s stomachs at the same time. His body collapsed backwards against the basin and Miles pinned him to it, spent and breathless, but with enough energy left for one last greedy kiss. When he pulled back, Alex stood there stupidly and deliciously happy. He was so fucking pleased with it all that he couldn’t stop smiling. “That was…” He dropped his head against Miles’ heaving chest. “That…was something else.”

Miles lowered his head as well, rubbed his cheek against Alex’s. “Thank you, babe. Thank you.”

“For a hand job?” Alex found it endlessly amusing to be thanked for that.

Miles did, too. And grinned. “That felt so fucking good.”

“It really did!” There was no denying that. Alex let his hands wander up Miles’ shirt, pushed it upwards and stripped him of it. He got rid of his own as well. Then he curled his arms around Miles’ neck and kissed him languidly, taking his time to enjoy every last second of it. It felt insane to have him like this, willing and available and all to himself. There was no time limit, no one else to interrupt. Miles returned the kiss, smiling into it as his hands traveled lazily across Alex's bare skin. When Alex felt that familiar tingle in his balls, he leaned back and shook his head with a smirk. “Don’t doubt for a second that I want more of that, but I need water. And food. But mostly water.”

Miles laughed as he brushed some strands of hair from Alex’s damp forehead. “Anything you want, love.”

Spoiler for the next part:

It was a touch that let every know that Alex was his and Alex very much loved being Miles’.

#the briefest kiss #milex #fanfic #fanfiction #milex fanfic #milex fan fiction #miles kane alex turner

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jamesv-t · 3 years

Text

Wrote this just over two years ago, while travelling back some 120 miles on public transport from a fantastic gig.

It was one of those sticky nights, when the cool side of the pillow dissipates as soon as you turn it over. St Pancras station at 1 am on one of these Saturday nights is a strange place. Colourful drunks lounge haphazardly over seats as Carly Rae Jepsen's "Your Type" blares uncomfortably loudly from the jukebox in the food court; it's only occupants are a tramp and a pigeon wrestling for control of a half eaten burger.

Down on the subterranean platforms a smartly dressed man buzzes a razor over his stubble, smoothing his face. A jittery youth taps and mumbles along to the bass bleeding from his cheap headphones as he paces up and down the platform. Across the tracks, a middle aged couple bicker about their day, each blaming the other for some perceived slight against them that "ruined a lovely day until then". A man in a fashionably aged black t-shirt promoting a 1970s rock band sits down between me and Razor Reg, down one end of the platform. A few lone women loiter near the relative safety of the platform entrance, in easy reach of a staff member should their night get uncomfortable.

The youth in the headphones continues jitterbugging up and down our platform, the steady thud from his bass rising and falling as he passes and recedes. The smart man accidentally squeaks out a fart; he looks round hoping nobody heard over the sound of his razor, but Rocker Billy and I have already shared a quiet smile together. The train is ten minutes away, and I am still two hours from my bed and sleep.

The couple on the litter strewn northbound platform have resolved their differences and are demonstrating this with a sloppy snogging session. It's touch and go whether this is better than the argument or not. The downside of platforms buried under concrete, earth and fashionable boutiques is a complete lack of phone signal - not that my provider covered themselves in glory in medium sized Buckinghamshire towns on the previous journey, anyway - so no distractions with social media or music. The allure of a downloaded podcast tugs gently at me, but in my current state sleep would quickly follow and I'd wake up in a depot somewhere, or knowing my luck, somewhere even worse, like Swindon.

Mac and Megan Makeout have been joined on their side by Jitterbug. He stops his pacing and proclaims across the tracks to us, "they is coming, you know!" devoid of context. I ponder whether he's referring to the Spice Girls reunion, the advertised train services (still ten minutes away!) or something even more sinister. Briefly I consider sharing this with Rocker Billy but I decide against it - it could provoke further conversation and I just want the train to be here so I can put my headphones on and curl up with my book.

The chimes of an announcement interrupt our various thoughts, and as one we turn our faces to the ceiling, despite the loudspeakers being installed at waist height as part of a government scheme to aid accessibility (or funnel extra cash to suppliers to replace the inevitably vandalised one speaker in three, you decide). The monotonous drone of the voice is barely audible over the cracking from the speakers but it seems to imply my train will call additionally at somewhere in east Kent before a south London station. Bemused, I keep my eye on the screen for clarification, and the update on the display shows a much more geographically sensible additional stop.

The train is only ten minutes away. The display proclaims that it's between a station that never opened and one that sounds Swedish. I don't trust it. I check to see if Hårga station is actually served by trains, any trains, and isn't just an IKEA dinner set but my phone mockingly displays no signal. At least when it did this earlier I had cows to look at out the window! My smartwatch is two minutes faster than the time displayed on the train departure board above Razor Reg, but as my watch also thinks it's 1970 I'm not inclined to trust that either. Perhaps Rocker Billy's gravitational pull has affected it. I tut to myself the disappointment that he's not wearing a different band's shirt, with him affecting time like a black hole, and it technically being the Sabbath after all!

I compose a tweet musing on how it never really feels like tomorrow until you've slept, no matter what the clocks say, and delete it from my drafts. None of my followers that are awake at this time are going to find it funny - take away those under the influence of drink, drugs or music and my feed right now is probably just baseball updates and that weird group Tetris twitter. Perhaps I should institute a delay in tweeting more often. Like the delay to this train, an infinite ten minutes. Maybe I should follow Jitterbug in his pacing, stop my muscles atrophying. There are barely a dozen of us down here. Is civilisation still there above? Are we all that's left of the human race? Mac and Meg seem to be well on their way to repopulating the earth by themselves, judging by their frenzied roaming all over each other while each attempts to devour the other. Suddenly the repeated automated announcements about CCTV coverage of the station make sense, they're not usually played on a perpetual loop and I suspect they’ve been manually prompted to try and stop the couple progressing further.

Jitterbug has sped up his pacing, almost sprinting up and down the other platform. I don't blame you mate, I wouldn't want to hang around those two either, they might try and drag you in! He's moving fast enough that his pupils seem to make up the whole of his eyes... That, or whatever has made him so jittery. A crystal clear tannoy announcement interrupts the CCTV one to let us know that our train is now only ten minutes away. It's only after it fades away and the CCTV announcements return, at the behest of someone in a control room somewhere being put off their mid shift meal by arcane meeting rituals on platform B, that it occurs to me how odd the tannoy was. There's a fair few international passengers at this station so announcing it in French first must be something new being introduced, but they don't tend to address me by name.

Reg moves his razor up and over the thinning grey of his temples. Billy taps out a drum rhythm almost, but not entirely unlike a Rolling Stones song. I wonder if I really need to save my two remaining cans of Danish lager from the cheap off licence round the corner for the train, or if I should open one now. The train is only ten minutes away though, I can wait. My watch is now an hour fast, if it hasn't fixed itself when I get mobile signal I'll reset it at home tomorrow. Today. After sleep, at any rate.

A trio of women squeezed into too tight clothes tottering on high heels have joined us on our platform. One says something that sounds hilarious to all three; the acoustics of the concrete box make the laughs sound like cackles. I realise that buried beneath the earth, surrounded by concrete, we're effectively sharing a Mausoleum. A pigeon breaks that thought by fluttering in from the outside, through the same tunnel my train will arrive in ten minutes. It turns to head back out, revealing a burnt featherless side to its head. Suddenly I regret my fried chicken for dinner earlier. The trio find this, or something unrelated, even more hilarious, their cackles booming around the station box.

Mac whispers something to Meg, which makes them both chuckle. Jitterbug grins at their mirth, which they find funnier, a feedback loop of laughs on the other platform. Reg nicks himself with his razor. As the blood trickles down his neck he brushes a hand over it, and finds the smear on his fingers funny. He shows Billy, who shares in the joke, the pair howling with laughter, tears falling from their eyes. The three on the other platform all have their arms around each other, heads thrown back, laughing uproariously. The lone women have departed, if they ever really were there to begin with. Laughs of various pitches and volume echo around the tomb of a station, drowning out announcements which now appear to be in Old English.

My train is only ten minutes away.

#writings

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j-writes-and-suffers · 6 years

Text

NaNoWriMo Day Ten

It was well past eleven by the time Lucien finished, and he dropped down onto a box, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He glanced over at Philip, who had dozed off nearly an hour ago. Lucien spent several minutes contemplating sleeping in the basement before finding the will to stand. He nudged Philip until the younger man woke up.

“Fuck, what time is it?”

“Ten to midnight, I believe.” Lucien glanced at his watch. “Eight til, actually.”

Philip groaned, standing up and stretching, “Damn, really? Have you been working on books this whole time?”

Lucien nodded, “I told you it was time-consuming. Come on, let’s get out of here before Heather decides to kill the lights on us.”

Not at all pleased with the idea of a pitch-black basement, Philip scrambled up the stairs, nearly tripping on the slightly raised last step.

“Whoa! Careful…” Lucien, who was two steps down, reached out to steady the young blond. “Please don’t crack your head open. I’d have to fill out so much paperwork.”

Philip snorted. “Good to know you care about my well-being.”

“I do, I just also really hate paperwork.”

“You’re the worst.” Philip groaned, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I gotta roll, it’s a long walk home.”

Lucien nodded, holding the front door open. “Good luck on your journey!”

“You’re so weird!”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

Philip was glad it was dark out; Lucien couldn’t see him blushing as he walked off. Shivering and tucking his hands in his pockets, he sniffled and headed for home. Sneezing and shaking the whole way, he started to wonder whether his allergies were trying to kill him. It was almost two by the time he got home; Philip kicked off his shoes, changed into pajamas, and zonked out within minutes.

As the week went by, Philip found himself sliding into a surprisingly functional routine. Tuesday and Thursday, he slept in, had a quick lunch at home, and went in for afternoon lectures. He’d grab lunch on campus and head back home. Wednesday and Friday mirrored Monday, going from lectures to lunch to the library. On Friday night, he got Lucien’s address and cell number, and he left for home grinning like a dipshit.

Saturday morning, Philip got up around eleven, wanting to have plenty of time to get ready and go see Lucien. He spent most of the afternoon pacing around his room in search of a suitable outfit, trying on and discarding half a dozen shirts before settling on a light grey button-up with a blue tie. He dropped onto the couch to wait, glancing at the clock more than the TV he was watching. While he wanted to be on time to dinner, he didn’t want to show up thirty minutes early and seem like a neurotic weirdo. The second the clock hit five, he jumped up, grabbing a jacket and heading out the door.

It was quarter to six when Philip arrived at Lucien’s house. A tiny one-story on the eastern edge of town, it looked older than dirt, but well-kept, considering the age. He shuffled up the steps, bouncing nervously on his toes as his hand hovered over the door knocker. It took a solid two minutes for him to actually nut up and knock, but only about two seconds for Lucien to open the door.

“Philip! I’m so glad you made it. Come in, I know it’s getting cold out…” The older man smiled warmly, stepping aside to let Philip in.

Hurrying inside, the anxious blond smiled back, trying to hide how intimidated he was. He felt so out of his element - Lucien’s house was infinitely more adult than his. Thoroughly cleaned, with coordinating decorations, shelves of books, random knick knacks, and no Ikea furniture. It was welcomingly warm inside, and smelled like rich tomato sauce and garlic.

Philip took a deep breath and grinned, “Duuuuude. It smells great in here.”

Lucien smiled back, clearly flattered, “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” Philip had actually forgotten lunch in his fussing about, and his stomach was growling loudly to complain about it.

“Take a seat, I’ll bring the food out.”

Philip hurried to the small dining table, dropping down into the closer of the two chairs. His mouth started to water when Lucien brought out a big pot of spaghetti and homemade sauce, and he almost wept with joy when the garlic bread was placed on the table. Bringing a pitcher of ice water and two glasses, Lucien sat down opposite him, smiling.

“I can tell you’re excited. Help yourself. There’s shredded parmesan if you want it.” The older man offered.

Without any further invitation, Philip shoveled a heap of pasta onto his plate, drowning it and his several slices of garlic bread in cheese and marinara. Lucien waited patiently for Philip to finish, putting much smaller servings on his own plate, with significantly less sauce and cheese. Philip was bouncing in his chair, waiting for permission to eat.

“I don’t suppose you say grace?”

“Nah, nope. Definitely not.” Philip shook his head.

Lucien chuckled, “Then dig in before you pop a blood vessel.”

Philip immediately jammed a fork into his pasta, twirling up a ridiculous amount and stretching open his jaw like an anaconda to fit it in his mouth. Too busy laughing to criticize Philip’s table manners, Lucien rolled his eyes at the younger man’s antics. He didn’t seem that hungry himself, mostly just picking at the garlic bread, but he was clearly happy that Philip liked the food.

Though he was incredibly hungry, Philip had to pause every few mouthfuls to sneeze and sniffle. He rubbed his eyes, which were starting to water, and groaned in frustration. “Goddammit. My allergies are fucking terrible lately.” He stifled another sneeze into his napkin, asking Lucien, “Do you have a dog running around here? I swear, it’s like there’s fur or something on all your clothes.”

“I… I mean… I walk in the park a lot, and there’s plenty of dogs there, but, no. I don’t own a dog.” Lucien shook his head, anxiously picking apart a slice of garlic bread.

“Huh. Weird.” Philip shrugged, going back to chowing down like his life depended on it. His whole plate was empty by the time Lucien had finished assaulting the garlic bread, and he was eyeing the spaghetti pot eagerly.

“You can have seconds, you know.”

Philip lit up. “Really?”

“Of course.” Lucien nodded, “I didn’t make all this for me.”

“You’re the best!” Philip started making Spaghetti Mountain 2.0 on his plate, while Lucien sipped a glass of water, absently twirling the same piece of pasta for several minutes.

About halfway through his second mound of pasta, Philip started sniffling incessantly. Lucien frowned in concern, getting up to find a tissue box. He returned after a moment, holding the box out to Philip. The watery-eyed blond smiled gratefully at Lucien, grabbing a tissue just in time to muffle a sneeze.

Philip groaned, sniffling and rubbing at his nose with the tissue. “Fuuuck. At this rate, I’m gonna die before dessert.”

“You can leave if you’re not feeling well. I’ll completely understand.” Lucien offered a sympathetic smile. “Maybe next weekend, we can meet somewhere else, see if your allergies decide to calm down. Does that sound alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good.” Philip climbed to his feet, cheeks flushed with shame. “Thank… thanks for understanding.”

“It’s really no trouble.” Lucien insisted. “Would you like some spaghetti to go?”

“Yes!” The younger man nodded eagerly, grabbing another tissue as his excitement was punctuated with a sneeze.

“I’ll pack some up, just give me one moment.” Lucien shuffled off to the kitchen in search of a tupperware. He returned a minute later with a plastic bowl and coordinating lid, offering both pieces and the serving spoon to Philip. “Go nuts.”

Philip grinned, filling the tupperware to the brim with pasta and sauce. Just for good measure, he stuffed one last piece of garlic bread in his mouth, taking a big bite before heading for the door. “Thanks for having me. And feeding me. And not being a dick about my allergies.”

“It’s no trouble.” Lucien insisted. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Philip nodded, waving with his free hand as he headed out, clutching the spaghetti as protectively as if it were his child.

As promised, Monday afternoon, Philip made his way to the library. He was surprised and a little confused to see a different assistant working circulation. The large, hawaiian-t-shirt-clad young man was sitting behind the front desk, watching some animated show on the circulation computer. He didn’t even notice Philip at first, busy shoving cheetos in his mouth with one hand and thoughtfully stroking his terrible facial hair with the other. It wasn’t clear whether he’d tried to grow a full beard and just had awful genes, or if he had intentionally shaved it to mutton chops and missed a few stray hairs on his chin. Philip was squinting over the desk, trying to make out the cartoon on the monitor. He gave up after a moment, finally asking, “What are you watching?”

“Gurren Lagann. I’d explain the premise, but it’s probably too complicated for you.” the bearded boy sneered.

From a nearby aisle came the familiar voice of Heather. “Shut the fuck up, Kyle. You failed Remedial Algebra twice, you don’t get to criticize the comprehension skills of other people.”

“I knew the material!” He whined, “I’m just bad at taking tests.”

“Yeah, sure.” The dark-haired girl returned to the desk with an empty cart, having just finished shelving books, “And I know how to drive, I just keep crashing every time I operate a car.”

Kyle scowled, turning back to his show as he grumbled, “Yeah, well at least I don’t dress like a whore.”

“That’s cause they don’t make slutty clothes in triple XL.”

Philip bit back a snicker, chiming in finally. “If either of you have a minute, I’m looking for Lucien?”

“He’s upstairs, probably avoiding this parasite,” Heather grumbled, jerking her thumb towards Kyle.

“Awesome, thanks!” Philip smiled at her and hurried up the stairs, not wanting to witness the start of World War Three.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2017 #fantasy #modern fantasy #comedy #school

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fuzzydreamlandpolice-blog · 6 years

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The International Technique Of Aldi Based On The UK Market<h1>The Worldwide Strategy Of Aldi Based mostly On The UK Market</h1> This is like an IKEA walmart to me lol -- Small german grocery and about saving money! It is going to save you a very good bit of cash by doing this. This is a type of ever-current questions that networkers and direct sales folks will continue to encounter (in all probability) forever--and there's all the time extra to it than meets a simple reply. A4.03 billion in sales. Plus, in case you eat the identical foods each day, you can create nutrient deficiencies because you won't receive the nutrients that you'd normally get by having a more balanced weight-reduction plan. I apologize for this experience with the shops not having bike lock ups. So, if there’s one Aldi’s tip we still have so as to add it’s this: get Aldi in your radar! One necessary tip to recollect when cooking dishes focuses on the dimensions of the dish being prepared. 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In case you don’t have a coffee home or have a relationship with somebody that does, it's possible you'll resort to the standard method of selling this business. If it is not ninety two Trim Green Espresso beans, the espresso beans wouldn't last more than a thirty day interval. Totally different clients are extra willing to pay for luxurious good now more than ever. Some are easy: you routinely put toothpaste in your toothbrush earlier than sticking it in your mouth. Balloons- There are infinite ways to use balloons. Are there any opportunities to improve pricing leverage with any of the corporate's suppliers? Frozen blueberries will keep for a 12 months at zero levels F. Blueberries are also simply canned or dried at residence. It’s all about stability, and ALDI is an effective way to maintain your meals funds lower so you'll be able to spend in other ways that matter to you. Contemporary delivers you wholesome, fresh food in about 10 minutes. This is on the grounds that rubber never gets to interact with meals. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/target/" alt="facebook">Target on facebook</a> There are data which point out that many people and animals have died because of the consumption of green potatoes with very excessive solanine levels. Wheat seeds are usually produced in the U.S. What can you employ your whole grains for? Stop by Physician Porter’s site where yow will discover out all about natural cancer remedy and what they will do for you. If you wish to contact Aldi, go to their internet site at http://www.aldi.com. In contrast to the most important companies’ extremely annoying jingles, you probably don’t remember seeing an Aldi Tv advert. Now the paper goes to analyse Aldi when it comes to the I-R framework; in different words, the MNE integration/responsiveness framework. 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jeremystrele · 6 years

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Adam Liaw, Christopher and Anna

Family

Emma Eldridge

Cook, Writer and Television Presenter Adam Liaw with his children Anna and Christopher. Photo – Rachel Kara.

Adam takes a bit of a ‘feast or famine approach’ to parenting. Photo – Rachel Kara.

Anna (1) and Christopher (4) await some healthy snacks from Dad. Photo – Rachel Kara.

Adam with his youngest, Anna. Photo – Rachel Kara.

‘The most important thing for kids’ nutrition is to lead by example (that probably goes for every part of raising children,’ says Adam. Photo – Rachel Kara.

The Liaws at home in Sydney. Photo – Rachel Kara.

On Christmas Day, the Liaws do presents in the morning then a big, long lunch before watching old kung fu movies with Grandma! Photo – Rachel Kara.

Adam admits that in the evenings, their Sydney home can be pretty manic! Photo – Rachel Kara.

‘I do my best as a Dad, and love my kids to death, but I live by the philosophy that my life is mine and theirs is theirs,’ tells Adam. Photo – Rachel Kara.

When I told my husband I’d be interviewing Adam Liaw for my final Family column of 2017, his response was: ‘Try not to gush too much.’

Well, I tried (for a second) and failed: This guy’s a lawyer (his last post was at Disney Interactive in Tokyo, where he met his wife Asami), a cook (he returned to Oz for season two of MasterChef – and won), a writer (and not just of cookbooks – though his clever and unfussy style is my favourite, as is his rendang), a presenter (Destination Flavour Japan is the best series of its kind I’ve seen on the country), and an ambassador (he’s Unicef Australia’s National Ambassador for Nutrition and a Goodwill Ambassador for Japanese Cuisine).

Yes, Adam Liaw is something of a renaissance man – but perhaps the nicest thing about him is his devotion to family; the ones he was born into (those episodes with his Mum in Singapore) and his own (scan Adam’s Instagram for more delightful snaps of his kids Christopher and Anna, they are ridiculous).

So thank you, Lucy, for letting me quiz Adam on parenting, food, and tradition – and thanks to all of you for reading along this year. Wishing you a blissful summer break with your families!

You’re currently researching the next instalment of Destination Flavour, which will take you to China from February through May of next year (I’m hoping for a feature on Lu cuisine). You travel a lot for work, but remain an incredibly engaged parent – what’s your secret? How do you support Asami when interstate or abroad?

It’s a bit of a feast or famine approach with me and parenting. I’m as engaged as I can possibly be when I’m here, but the demands of my work mean I’m on the road around half of the year, and that’s really hard. We’ve a lot of FaceTime, phone calls, and serious ‘Papa has to go away for a while’ conversations.

My wife and I don’t have family in Sydney, and my work is quite varied, so we’re constantly adapting our approach. There are times when I might be shooting for a week or two and the family can come with me, but a series like Destination Flavour is full-time for three to four months, and on the road is no place for kids. So Asami will often take Christopher and Anna back to Japan (where her parents live), and while I’m filming in China they’ll probably spend a bit of time with my mother in Beijing so I can visit them more regularly.

It’s hard not having grandparents in the same city, but there are lots of expat Japanese families in Sydney that are in the same boat. So there’s support from friends locally, then family interstate or abroad.

With clan across Australia and Asia, you also do a ton of family travel. I was impressed to hear of you taking Christopher on a San Sebastian pintxos crawl until 1am! Have you and Asami had to change the way you holiday at all post-kids?

When flying with kids, the game is really won or lost with flight choice. Within Australia is generally not a problem, but a long overseas daytime flight with grumpy kids is the worst. For anything over six hours, it’s best to find an overnight route.

You do need to compromise when travelling with children, but it’s also important not to become their slaves. Plan something for the kids one day, but make sure you’re doing something for yourselves the next. AirBnB is fantastic as you get a bit more space to slow down in, and we get evening babysitters a lot when we’re away (it’s much easier than you’d think; try expat online communities for English-speaking sitters). Leaving the sleeping kids behind while you go out for a nice dinner is infinitely better than trying to silently eat room service in a darkened hotel room.

Fostering a good relationship with food – in your children, and all children through your work with Unicef Australia – is extraordinarily important to you. How have you encouraged Christopher and Anna’s excellent palates? Have you any advice for parents of fussy eaters?

The most important thing for kids’ nutrition is to lead by example (that probably goes for every part of raising children). You can’t expect them to eat well if you don’t eat well yourself.

It might sound trite, but after that cooking is what it’s really about. The more you cook, the more responsive you are to what you eat (and what you feed your kids). I think a lot of the fussiness we perceive in children is actually quite easy to tackle.

The first step is seasoning; even something as simple as cooking vegetables in lightly salted stock instead of water can be a game-changer for kids.

Texture is the other big one. If Christopher and Anna aren’t into boiled carrots, I’ll try serving them shredded and raw, or roasted – and usually that will clinch it. You can also try serving new foods when you have people over, as kids are less likely to be fussy when their friends are around.

Finally, if they’re not having a bar of any of it, I’ll just move on. There’s no point making a piece of carrot a battleground when children are likely to change their minds about it in a month’s time anyway.

You’ve shared your family’s Chinese New Year tradition of tossing Yee Sang into the air with chopsticks (the higher the salad, the more luck for the year), how do the Liaws celebrate Christmas? Do you involve your kids in any festive cooking? (My son and I recently baked your salt and brown sugar Christmas cookies – they were a big hit!).

We keep Christmas pretty classic. Usually a whole leg of ham, some prawns and lobster, and a pavlova for dessert. We have a big family and some years we can have up to 50 people on the day, so there’s always a lot of food. I remember one year we had a full ham, an eight-kilogram turkey and a 12-kilogram suckling pig, plus seafood and sides. It was like a Roman feast.

The kids sometimes help, but Christmas cooking is pretty straightforward as there’s a big centrepiece. For other holidays like Chinese New Year, the food is a bit more involved, so then it’s definitely all hands on deck.

On Christmas Day, we do presents in the morning then a big, long lunch. We eat too much and then spend the afternoon watching old kung fu movies with my grandma.

Instead of a recipe, I’ll offer a tip (but it’s a good one). The most common point where people go wrong with pavlovas is not dissolving the sugar well enough. If the sugar doesn’t dissolve, the meringue won’t be stable – this is what causes weeping or collapse. You need to add the sugar a little at a time, then keep whisking (use a stand mixer) for about five minutes until you can’t feel any sugar if you rub the meringue between your fingers. Do that and you’ll get towering pavlovas every time!

When you’re at home in Sydney, how does your day start and end with Christopher and Anna?

The kids generally get up around 6am and we’ll chat for half an hour about the day ahead. Then it’s breakfast (which the kids usually help make as it’s quite simple – fruit, yoghurt, and kaya toast) and the mechanics of getting them dressed and off to day care.

In the evenings, the house is pretty manic. I try to get dinner ready before everyone gets home, and we eat around 6.30pm or so, depending on the season. Then it’s bath, play, and TV time for a couple of hours until stories and bed around 8.30 or 9pm. It’s a pretty common routine but when you travel as much as I do, it’s the kind of thing you really miss when you don’t get to do it.

Moving across time, what kind of adults might you like them to grow into? How would you like them to remember you to their own families?

I do my best as a Dad, and love my kids to death, but I live by the philosophy that my life is mine and theirs is theirs. I want them to have every opportunity in life, but I think sacrificing every part of yourself to your kids is just as unhealthy as neglect, as you end up putting all the emphasis and pressure on them to live both your life and their own.

If they remember me as a good father who did his best to show them how to be themselves, I’ll be very happy.

Family Favourites

Clothing brand

Nightcrawler Co is a very cool, local kids brand.

Bedroom item

IKEA’s Bekväm stool. It’s the ultimate tool of twenty first century kids’ independence.

Activity or outing

We love the beach in summer, so we’re there at least once or twice a week. A good shade, packed lunch, sunscreen, and some beach toys and the whole family’s happy.

Dinner destination

We love to eat outdoors, so there’s nothing more perfect for me than having the whole family sitting out on our back deck on a balmy evening. The birds come by at around 7pm and sing in the trees as the sun goes down, it’s magic.

Book, film or show

There’s a Japanese picture book called Mama ga obake ni nachatta (Mum became a ghost) that my daughter always wants me to read to her. It’s a fantastic book, but very emotional. I cry every single time.

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minneapolisfoundationservices · 7 years

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You Waited To See What Would Happen With The Silent Killer That Sat Inside People's Homes. Mcgee Wrote The Statement For Lawyers Representing The Three Families Suing Ikea.

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"You had the power to remove it, but you didn't. You let it linger. You waited to see what would happen with the silent killer that sat inside people's homes." McGee wrote the statement for lawyers representing the three families suing Ikea. On Wednesday, they announced the company had agreed to pay $50 million to settle the claims. One liability expert called it an "astonishing" payout and an indication Ikea was intent to avoid a trial where long-standing concerns about its dressers would have been aired. "A settlement of that size suggests to me they know they did something wrong," said Michael Green, a Wake Forest University law school professor who has represented companies facing product-liability suits. "Or they know a jury is going to find they did." The settlements close out the wrongful-death lawsuits filed by the McGees, of Apple Valley, Minn., and parents of two 2-year-old boys who died in Ikea dresser tip-overs in 2014: Curren Collas of West Chester and Camden Ellis of Snohomish, Wash. Ikea's attorneys declined to comment on the settlement. Ikea spokeswoman Mona Astra Liss, in a statement, also did not comment on the agreement but said the company offered its "sincerest condolences to the families of these tragedies." "We will continue to work to raise awareness of this important safety issue," she said.

For the original version including any supplementary images or video, visit http://www.philly.com/philly/news/20161223_Grieving_mom_s_message_to_Ikea__You_let_a__quot_silent_killer_quot__stay_in_my_home.html

Ikea to pay $50M to families of toddlers killed bydressers IKEA is a company which sells ready-to-assemble furniture, appliances and other household goods. The company was founded in Sweden in 1943. NEW YORK Ikea has agreed to pay $50 million to the families of three toddlers who were killed when Ikea dressers tipped over on them. The settlement was announced by the families lawyers. The money will be split evenly among the families of Curren Collas of West Chester, Pennsylvania, Camden Ellis of Snohomish, Washington, and Ted McGee of Apple Valley, Minnesota. All three boys were 2 years old when they died. The settlement was reached after a two-day hearing before a retired federal judge. In addition to the $50 million, Ikea will donate $50,000 to three childrens hospitals in the families home states, and $100,000 to Shanes Foundation, a child safety charity. Ikea also agreed to only sell chests and dressers in the United States that meet or exceed the national voluntary safety standard. Ikea announced a repair program in July 2015 to encourage customers to anchor the dressers to the wall. After the third death, it announced a recall of millions of the dressers, along with a refund program for customers who returned them.

For the original version including any supplementary images or video, visit http://fox5sandiego.com/2016/12/22/ikea-to-pay-50m-to-families-of-toddlers-killed-by-dressers/

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