#because the YELLOW? the yellow gets a pass

[rafey-baby]

hidden 2

cw: hostage situation, outlaw!rafe getting injured and reluctantly letting pogue!reader clean him up, suggestive & him being sleazy

wc: 2k

hope u enjoy xx

part 1

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It’s past midnight and Rafe is driving over the speed-limit. He had said something about handling business and then more or less shoving her into the passenger seat of his truck before she even had the chance to open her mouth in objection.  

The island sky is as dusky as the bottom of the ocean as he races through the soundless highway that reminds her of the yellow brick road; never-ending and with no certainty of what’s looming at the finish line. 

She sits silently on the passenger seat because even if she was curious as to where exactly they were headed to, she’s well aware that he wouldn’t tell her if she asked.    

Her heavy lids fall closed to the calming noise of the wind picking up outside the vehicle and she’s so exhausted she falls asleep within minutes. Therefore, she’s not sure how much time has passed before she’s jostled awake to him turning off the engine in an empty parking lot. 

“Don’t even think about opening the door, alright?” A heavy warning lingers in his tone as he’s tucking his gun in the waistband of his pants and grabbing a thick wad of cash from the glove compartment.  

She hums her acknowledgment and watches his actions; wandering eyes filled with questions. However, he merely offers her a brief glance and then he’s throwing open the door and disappearing into the eerily serene night; leaving her alone in the dimly lit space with her nervous inhales and exhales the only thing keeping her company.  

She tries to peer through the window, squinting in order to see where he’s run off to but the faint glow of the street lamps provides little to no help, making her impatiently tap her nails against the center console as she waits for him to return. She presses her ear to the window but unfortunately no sounds other than the rustling of the leaves in the trees surrounding the area reach her eardrums.  

She sighs.  

What if something happens? 

She knows that he doesn’t need for her to worry over him but she can’t help it. No matter how terrible of a person he is, she doesn’t wish for anything bad to happen to him. After all, she’s not a carefully programmed robot entirely void of human emotions, is she?

The mellow memory of him reluctantly trying to soothe her after her outburst the other day still lingers at the forefront of her mind and turns her initial thoughts regarding him into something softer. After all, she was certain he was going to kill her because she had threatened him with his gun. However, he merely seemed entertained by her stupid bravery, opting to mock her instead of showing a single ounce of actual fear.

And she doesn’t know why, but there’s this peculiar flutter in her tummy whenever her brain decides to mull over the moment of him wrapping his big arms around her shaky body in an almost gentle manner.  

She wants to forget about it, ignore it and simply despise him for forcing her to help him, but she can’t. Can’t help the fact that even if she’s utterly terrified of him, there’s also something about him that almost fascinates her; lures her in and makes her want to figure him out and she’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to think of that.  

There’s something enticing about the way he’s such a polar opposite to her; not only is he a Kook but he’s also violent and hostile whereas she doesn’t even have the heart to kill a bug. His demeanor is aggressive and she thought that was all there was but then he goes on and practically hugs her when she’s a trembling mess with salty tears streaking her cheeks. 

All of it confuses her to no end; disarranging her cerebrum and making foreign emotions bubble in her chest like molten lava. Or maybe she’s just touch-deprived; starving for whatever attention Rafe is suddenly offering her so generously.  

She doesn’t necessarily want to think about any of it right now though; opting to stare out into the gloom of the night and forcing her mind somewhere else entirely when all at once, the driver’s side door slams open and her head snaps towards it; eyes startled and heart jumping in her chest at the instantaneous intrusion.  

”Calm down, ‘s just me,” Rafe mutters, sounding out of breath; exhales harsh and chest rising and falling like a madman as he slumps down on the leather seat, eyes flitting over her tense form. “You seriously didn’t move?” He huffs out. “Such a good little puppy, huh?”  

At that, she comes to the conclusion that she’s definitely craving a very specific type of attention when her thighs involuntarily press together at his twisted notion of praise.  

”You— uh…you okay?” She cautiously asks, ignoring the warmth scattering along the apples of her cheeks.  

”I’m fine,” he mumbles before starting the engine and speeding back out onto the road that’s still sound asleep; the pitch black sky beginning to fade into a darkened navy blue with the dim glimmer of the street lamps illuminating their journey.  

She then gets a better look at him and notices a few cuts and bruises adorning his tired face. There’s a particularly deep scrape on his cheekbone; crimson transferring to the back of his hand when he mindlessly swipes over it.  

”Rafe…you’re bleeding. What happened?” She exclaims, uneasiness coating her tone. 

”Don’t worry, okay? Just had some, uh…disagreements. Should honestly see the other guy,” a lazy smirk paints over his face as he lets out a dry chuckle. 

”Rafe, those could get infected or something. Do you want me to clean them up for you?”��

”It’s just a few scratches, you’re acting as if I’m bleeding out,” he rolls his eyes, turning exasperated. 

”I’m being serious, you can’t exactly go to the doctor if those actually end up getting infected, can you?” She argues with a pout.     ”Shit, are all Pogues this fucking stubborn or just you? Told you, it’s fine,” he snaps in disdain, knuckles turning white from their grip on the steering wheel. 

”It’s not fine, though. Can you just…can you just let me help you? It’ll take like ten minutes and then you don’t have to worry about it anymore,” she rakes a hand through her hair in frustration because in her opinion Rafe is the one being stubborn right now.  

”I’m not worrying about it!” His gravelly voice thunders from his chest, making her flinch. 

“Well, I am,” her tone is quiet now; slightly regretting bringing the topic up in the first place.     At that, he lets out an irritated sigh and then he’s abruptly pulling over to a parking lot next to some gas station.

She turns to look at him with a surprised expression.  

”Don’t have all day. Get the fucking first aid kit from the glove box,” he grumbles out a harsh demand.  

”O— okay,” her face begins to light up in victory as she scurries to open the compartment in front of her, rummaging through it and trying to not pay attention to the plastic baggies filled with white powder or the wads of cash her hand comes in contact with.  

At last, her tentative fingertips find the small red bag she was looking for. However, when she turns to face him again, he’s not initiating any sort of movement, simply spreading his legs out in front of him in his slouched position and peering down at her expectantly. 

She hesitates.  

”You’re not gonna…move?” 

”If you wanna play nurse so fucking bad then you have no problem sitting on my lap, right? Not gonna reach all the way from there, are ya?” His tone is mocking and she can practically feel the cherry blush crawling up her face. 

”Oh, right. Um— yeah. I’ll just…” She blinks and then she’s clumsily climbing over the console and awkwardly lowering down to stumble into his lap. He merely looks at her with a bored expression; annoyance swimming in the lagoons of his eyes as he glares at her, clearly bothered by the fact that he has to waste his precious time on something as trivial as this.  

She huffs before timidly opening the first aid kit and trying to settle down on his lap. However, with his long legs sprawled out in the legroom he’s not exactly making it easy for her; being petty and difficult on purpose as she takes out a clean cotton pad and dampens it with some antiseptic spray.  

”Can you just…” she trails off before gingerly taking ahold of his jaw and lifting his face in order to examine the injuries better.

He lets her freely maneuver his head as she pleases and despite the sting, not even flinching when she gently dabs over a smaller cut on his jaw. Merely letting his gaze flicker over her features; making her grow nervous under his curious eyes as she tries to concentrate on the vermilion spots on his face and not the way he’s soundlessly observing her.

Or the fact that she’s currently closer to him than she’s ever been before. Can feel the even breaths from his nose tickling the skin of her lower face when she leans down to get a better angle.

“So…you’re a drug dealer or?” She decides to try her luck, not being able to sweep the cocaine in the glove compartment under the rug so carelessly.  

“What did I say about questions, Puppy?” He scolds her instead of answering.  

“Right, sorry,” her eyes drop down. At least she tried. 

She doesn’t say anything more, instead focuses all her attention on cleansing the scrapes and tries not to pay any mind to the fact that as an afterthought, this position is incredibly improper and she’s not entirely sure why she agreed to it so easily.

Upon careful consideration, she thinks she’s entirely too aware of his sturdy muscles underneath her and it’s turning her respiration more labored by each wipe over his face.

“Thinkin’ about going to Guadeloupe next week,” he utters out after several minutes of silence. 

”You are?”  

”Mhm. My family owns a house there,” his low-pitched tone is calm; almost relaxed. 

”But, how are you—” her brows crease in a question.  

”I have a private jet,” he states as if it should be obvious; he is a proud Kook, after all.  

”Right. Of course you do,” she shakes her head when the corners of his mouth tug up.  

”How long are you gonna stay there?” She asks as she lifts her hand to swipe the saturated cotton over the deeper wound on his cheekbone.  

”Don’t know, ’til I figure something else out,” he shrugs.  

She hums and then shuffles around in his lap some more, trying to wriggle upwards in order to not fall off. However, as she’s shifting into a more comfortable position, he suddenly lets out a low grunt from the back of his throat. 

“Shit, Puppy. You really gotta move around so much?” He murmurs, promptly resting warm palms on her hips, halting her movements altogether.  

“S— sorry,” her eyes round out when she can suddenly feel a slight bulge in his pants.

”If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re tryna get me hard on purpose, hm?” A breathy chuckle escapes his lips along with amusement glittering in blue gemstones as he inspects her flushed face with intrigue.  

”Oh, no— I’m not…was just— trying not to fall,” her words are rushed; thoroughly embarrassed as she blinks repeatedly.

“Just, uh…stay still, yeah? Need me to steady you?” He rasps before strong arms are holding her upright by a firm grip on her waist.  

”Thanks,” her voice is a muted whisper and she tries not to seem so affected as she gets a new cotton pad and begins to scrub off some of the dried scarlet from under his bottom lip; not daring to shift an inch after that.

[sceletaflores]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ wip wednesday!

thanks for the tag angel baby @guiltyasdave <3 • 18+ under the cut! MDNI!

wip #1 • far too familiar a stranger…feat. logan howlett (& crimson!)

a long time ago, logan howlett knew a woman with your face…

i couldn’t not write a ‘worst!logan coming face to face with his tragically dead love interest but from wade’s universe after wade forced her to help them stop the TVA and hating her for bringing up that time in his life until he doesn’t anymore’ fic.

it's crimson because i felt that making whole new mutant reader would be sort of confusing so this fic is in the to the bone universe but it's not the same timeline...if that makes sense lmao

Wade Wilson is the worst neighbor in the entire fucking world. It’s really something you should have known sooner, like ‘the very first day in your new place ending with him breaking in through your window fully suited up after counting the floors wrong and bleeding all over your brand new pottery barn throw rug because he was still a little too concussed to walk’ sooner. Even after that whole fiasco left you with a broken window latch and a beyond fucked non-refundable $80 carpet, you still let yourself entertain his crazy. Just like everyone else whose life Wade crashed into, both physically or metaphorically. And once he's in, you can never really get him back out again. So yeah, maybe this whole thing is your fault. Maybe getting thrown into a barren, dusty void with two somewhat failed X-Men is just all your bad karma manifesting in one huge finger from the universe.

wip #2 • red and yellow kill a fellow! feat. logan howlett & wade wilson

logan doesn’t appreciate you letting wade get one up on him…

finally finally finally getting off my ass and writing logan x reader x wade! i was inspired by this one episode of satc (which is like my favorite show ever bee tee dubs) where charlotte goes out with two guys at the same time and she has sex with one but not the other until one of them catches her with the other guy and they all break it off.

my vision is a little different cause instead of getting mad and leaving when logan finds out reader fucked wade and not him, he figures it's his turn to get even. aka wade in the cuck chair and loving it.

The three of you pass a BMW sitting in a no parking zone, all four windows rolled down as Madonna blasts through the speakers. "So," Wade says, voice breaking the silence for the first time in five minutes. "Who white-washed your guts better?" You nearly trip over your own feet, whipping your head to gape at Wade. "Fucking excuse me?" "You know," Wade shrugs, like it's a perfectly normal thing to ask. The leisurely pace of his stroll not slowing, his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. "Who carved the lyrical railway better?" He just keeps going as you stare at him with a repulsed look on your face. "The number one stud that's stuffin' your muffin? That's takin the ol' bald-headed gnome for a satisfying stroll in the misty forest. Pick one hot stuff, they all mean the same thing." Before you can even answer there's a rough, questioning grunt from your right and your stomach flips. Oh. Logan, he was still here too. Still here and right next to you, listening. Oh yeah. "You fucked?" You still haven't slept with Logan yet. You turn to him face slowly, eyes a hair wide as you take in the sharp raise of his brow. "Um..." "Whoops," Wade snorts from somewhere behind your shoulder. "Cat's out the bag."

wip #3 • it's the easiest thing (just love me and eat me) feat. logan howlett

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

the same requested sub!logan fic from last wednesday just with a new name and weirder energy! like this has really gotten away from me and turned into something that i can't really explain well enough to make it sound like chill...

lots of religious imagery and symbolism...and some metaphors of cannibalism...idk i'm just a girl with religious trauma and a weird blood fetish sue me.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church. The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of it like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship. Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion. The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. The sound of your name pulled from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered. You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

kisses!

no pressure tags! @ebodebo @artemis-b-writes @avocado-writing @superhoeva

[devastatinglygreen]

What do you think of the Twitter discourse on Penelope's dresses?

very proud of myself for knowing what you're referring to actually.

i think they're being very loud about trying to say the quiet part without saying it. the silhouettes are the same or similar. if people wanted to be honest, the only thing they really have in common is a body type and a smaller chest that accommodates a higher bustline.

they put penelope in those unflattering, boxy dresses for a reason for 2 seasons so to act like it's out of nowhere that they suddenly changed the silhouette of the dresses in s3 when the entirety of bridgerton is beyond historically inaccurate is wild. they lowered the bustline because penelope has a large chest. they kept her looking younger and childish until her season for a purpose. pretending that's how she was always going to/supposed to look is insane.

a leading woman in her character's main arc is always going to come into her own, that's basic storytelling. pretending that penelope was supposed to stand there in a yellow dress that makes it look like she's much rounder and flatter chested than she is feels like a weird way to say media literacy passed you by. unless, of course, you're saying something else. which we know most of them are.

colin's clothes changed as well? he grew into darker colors and more mature silhouettes. we know what they say about him. they do try and hide it under other critiques but they happily talk about his looks like he's not conventionally attractive in a way they hesitate to do with penelope.

what they really mean is, and i'm sure they'll disagree because it's not a good look, is that they think people they don't personally find desirable don't deserve community. especially romantically.

i'm not going to pretend i find all of the actors on the show attractive but you'd have to fight me to get me to name them because it's rude and offers nothing productive on the show, their stories, or the ships they're involved in.

but polin lives rent free in their heads even when we're getting insane leaks for another season so it is what it is i guess.

[hannahssimblr]

“Jude! God, c’mere.” Michelle thrusts me into the centre of the group, where someone has propped a card against a vase on the counter. I ensure to arrange my features carefully into some sort of surprised expression. 

“Oh, what? This for me?”

“Yes,” they cry. It’s a handmade card that says ‘you’re dead to us’ on the front. “Aw, Jesus, thanks!” I say, and they laugh and watch me while I open it and start reading some messages scrawled on the inside. There are so many of them, many even squeezed into the tiniest corners, or sideways along the edge.

‘Good luck on your big adventure!’ some say. Others share a memory, wish me luck, express jealousy at my escape. I close it. 

“I’ll read this late when you’re not all gawking at me,” I tell them, which gets a good laugh despite the lack of comedy, and as I look around at their faces, their sad, sentimental smiles and I wish the night was over already, and I was already gone. I feel exposed, like a man under a spotlight without something to say. Would they like me to entertain them? To read their messages and get emotional in the middle of my kitchen?

I catch Jen’s eye. She’s behind the others, by the patio door, dressed in a very funereal black, and an expression to match. While chatter resumes around me, I jerk my head towards the garden, and without words, she understands. She slips through the door and out into the night. 

Jen and I wordlessly follow the path that winds down from the house to the pergola at the back of the garden. We sit on a bamboo settee shielded by trees from the road, where the occasional car passes. The breeze lifts pieces of her hair that frame her face. 

She is staring towards the kitchen, its yellow light pouring out into the garden when she breaks the silence. 

“What a weird party.” 

I exhale a laugh through my nose. “Honestly, I didn’t know if you’d even come.”

She purses her lips. “I’m not totally sure why I did.”

“Maybe you had something you wanted to say.”

“Maybe. Though I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear it.” She looks at me then, her brown eyes dark in the failing light as they study mine. “It surprised me to see Evie here.”

“Me too. I didn’t think she’d come.”

“On her own, too.”

I shrug. “Shane and Claire were busy. They were going to their debs.”

“Ah, the debs.” She picks lint from her black mesh top and laughs humourlessly. “Bet you’re sorry you’ll miss ours. I know how excited you were to suit up for it.”

Even the concept of wearing a suit makes me uncomfortable, as though an invisible tie is pulled too tightly at my throat. “You’re going, I presume.”

“Yeah, with Michelle. The two of us are kind of like the dateless losers in the year. Feels about right to end it all this way.”

“I didn’t think Michelle would be interested in all that stupid stuff, if I’m honest.”

“I think that’s what you assumed. If you’d asked her, she might have told you something different.”

“Hm,” I say. “More evidence of being a kind of shit boyfriend, isn’t it?”

An infinitesimal smile nudges at her lips. “I always said you were better apart. She really brought out the worst in you.”

“It felt that way, to be honest. When I was with her, I really didn’t like myself, or I wasn’t completely myself around her.”

“Well, then. Hopefully, one day you’ll find someone who lets you be yourself. It’s what everyone wants for themselves.”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“I kind of thought you’d found that with Evie.”

I sigh, suddenly irritated, while she draws into herself, hands tucked under her arms. “Sorry,” she says. “I don’t know the right thing to say about her.”

“I kind of wish you wouldn’t say anything to me about her, because, like…”

“It isn’t my business, and all that,” she finishes, and with a nod, she turns her face toward the bushes flanking the garden with their spiky black leaves silhouetted against the deep blue sky.

My voice trembles. “Jen, I don’t want to be angry with you right now, like, I don’t want to go off and start this new part of my life when I feel this way, but the things you said to Evie at the festival, I just… It’s like, no matter how much I think it over, I can’t come up with a reason you would say those things to her.”

She tugs the sleeve of her top between her teeth, just shaking her head. I lift my hands from my lap to look at them. They are quivering, so I clench them into fists as I continue.

“You should have been there on that second night, Jen, and seen the way she was crying. The things you said got into her head, you know what I mean? You can’t just make shit up and tell it to someone like it’s a fact. I know you love to gossip and tell stories, but this is what happens when you go too far. It has real consequences. Like, a real impact on people.”

“Yeah.”

“You told her I was staying.”

Again, she agrees, eyes still fixed on the garden. 

“Jen.”

She swallows, hard. 

“How come you said that? It’s not like I ever told you I was going to do that, is it?”

She mumbles something incoherent. 

“What? Come on, just talk to me.”

“I assumed you would.”

“You assumed? Why would you assume?”

I realise that speaking is difficult for her, as she is holding back her tears. I should feel more sympathetic towards her, but I’m righteous. With a steadiness I know is shrinking her, I stare into her face.

“Maybe it was both that I assumed and I hoped. Like, a mixture of the two.”

“Go on.”

“You seemed happy this summer, at certain moments. It was just… like,” a laboured swallow, “you’d come home late after being with her, and you were just… Happy, and talking all about her and going on and on about the funny things she said to you.”

“So?”

“So, like, I thought you’d end up going out with her in the end, and that you felt so strongly about her that you’d stay in Dublin to be with her. I don’t know, it didn’t seem that crazy an idea. You were acting like you were in love or something.” Now, she looks at me, her eyes hurt, but still searching for confirmation. Perhaps, if she were especially astute, she might have seen somewhere on my face the flash of emotion that jolted through me. I convince myself she hasn’t seen a thing and clench my jaw. 

“I think that was a fairly stupid assumption to make.”

“I don’t. You’ve always done things because pretty girls wanted you to. It’s like your life is based around chasing whatever feeling it is that you get when one of them likes you.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“It’s not,” I insist. “Look at me now, huh? I’m leaving her for Germany.”

“Fine,” she whispers. “I just thought you’d stay. That’s all.”

“I won’t.”

“I know that.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Do you?”

She exhales, frustrated, and throws her hands upon her lap. “Yes, I know it. Look at me, here, at your going away party. It’d be pretty fucking mental if I didn’t know it, wouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you’ve acknowledged it.”

“You haven’t talked to me in two weeks.”

“Before that, Jen.”

She fixes the full, passionate force of her stare at me as tears fill her eyes. “Because I don’t want you to go, do I? Because I thought if I didn’t look at it, then it’d all just go away.”

I feel a surge of emotion. My throat tightens as though clenched by a fist. “Well… It doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” as the first tears spill onto her cheeks, she wipes them away with the heel of her hand. “I just didn’t want things to end. I thought if you stayed for her, then I wouldn’t have to lose you, and nothing would change.”

“They have to, though. That’s how life goes. Everything changes and everything ends, and we all just get older and things move on.”

She whimpers. “But you’re moving on without me.”

I reach out and stroke her knee with my thumb over the loose threads of the hole in her jeans. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

“I just don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You’ll just live your life, and I’ll live mine, and-”

“We’ll be apart. How can I go without seeing you all the time? You’ve always just been there, and now I’ll have to get used to you being so far away, and never seeing you, and you’re, like, one of the few friends I even have, and you-”

“No, come on. You’ll make new friends in college.”

“I don’t want new friends. I don’t want to meet new people and have to explain these little things about me, and my backstory and what I like to watch on TV and order at the takeaway, and what sorts of jokes make me laugh. You already know it all, and you’ll know them better than anyone else ever will, because you were there when I decided I liked them.”

“Jenny, we’ll still talk, and we’ll visit each other-”

“There’s no point pretending it’ll be the same, because it won’t. You’re going to say you’ll stay in touch with me and we’ll be best friends forever, but that won’t happen. You’ll find people who are better, and just forget.”

“Never.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[svt-kiki]

( 🖇️ )　𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐒 !　⌅ .

───　୨ৎ 　›　𝐅𝐔𝐍　𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒　.　

she has one of the biggest china bars among the kpop idols. her fandom is strong esp in china, thai, philippines, latin america and europe

although her appearance doesn’t fit korea nor japan’s “beauty standards” perfectly, she is quite popular out there. it took time to get recognize she deserves, but currently she’s one of the most popular kpop idols in korea and japan, thanks to the acting activities.

she has an addictive deep voice.

she is famous for her clean skin, considered as the idol who has most beautiful bare face. she prefers being without makeup on day off.

she’s against the “diet” culture without apology: that most female idols experienced, only eat a few to lose weights. since only female trainee had regularly weight measurement, she rebeled against the company in predebut era to get rid of that system.

she got scouted from jyp, sm ang yg entertainments as a trainee while in pledis. she was a “legend” trainee who was famous among other company’s trainees. the pics of her when she went to sopa’s graduation ceremony ( when seungcheol and doyoon graduated ) went viral on internet.

she’s the only one who constantly replies group chat, named "the only member who’s responsible" in “Know Thyself #2” ( lmao )

her experience in pd 48 literally broke her heart — gaeun was her first friend in korea, watching one of the oldest friends struggling, challenging, and falling apart at last sec was a terrible experience. during the program she held herself strictly not to do her favor nor get biased in any way, but couldn’t help herself into tears after the final. she just decided she’ll never involve to any audition programs again.

however, because of the pd48 appearance, she is basically the mother, or nonna / eonni of the 4th gen idols. lots of people mentioned her as a rolemodel or the sunbae they want to get close with, but it’s because she has so many male friends in the 3rd gen groups already and kiki be the only “safe” female idols to mention esp for male idols.

kiki is known as very polite and humble person in the kpop industry. throughout her careers, she carefully curated own demeanor and behaved very wisely. that, and the fact that she's the only one female member in her group made her allow to interact with other male idols “normally”. she is the heart of the healthy friendships between male / female idols in the industry. now she becoming the “legend” 3rd gen idol, kiki tried to clear the roadblock as something really unhealthy and toxic customs in the industry for the sake of the younger idols.

she plays the role of producing visual side like woozi is doing in music. she takes huge part as deciding concepts, the look of albums and costumes.

she often jokes about how she is “old” now that barely understands japanese youth words and it’s fUNNY

her favorite mangas are jojo’s bizarre adventure ( she’s MADLY in love with araki hirohiko’s illustration ), one piece, bleach, fullmetal alchemist, etc. she also loves psycho-pass and fate series as well.

she spent her childhood in 00s japan, so it’s apparent that she has been greatly influenced by those 00s japanese pop culture. she adores 00s jpop a lot. her favorite artists are amuro namie, utada hikaru, arashi and bump of chicken.

but her visual and fashion clearly got the 90s vibes.

her favorite colors are yellow, blue and black.

she listens to wide range of music. the song she shared to social media or released cover version often goes viral on internet.

she’s good at most sports ( maybe the only one who can controll balls properly in the performance team lol ) but has no idea how to play online pc games.

she reads lots of books except self-development jenre. her favorite authors are higashino keigo, kazuo ishiguro and le guin.

cooking is her speciality! it’s her little dream to have a mini-program that she invites the guests and treats her with her homemade meal.

───　୨ৎ 　›　𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄　𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃　𝐊𝐈𝐊𝐈　.　

⸺ 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘒 𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘑𝘐 › . 박민지

✦ ☕️ ⸝⸝ ⸺ 𝘴𝘶𝘣-𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮 .

　PARK MINJI was born in 1989 in seoul, south korea. she lived in japan from age of 12 to 15 due to her parents’ work. after returning to korea and enrolling in college, she decided to go back to japan. while studying at a japanese university, minji worked as an intern at avex, a japanese record company, in 2010. it was during this time that she got involved in the collaboration project between after school and japanese singer amuro namie, which was the first time she connected with pledis.

　after graduating from college, minji joined pledis entertainment in 2012. her work initially focused on nu’est’s activities in japan, but when seventeen made its debut, she became one of the managers. minji was also in charge of all group activities for seventeen, but most of all she supported kiki, since she was the only female member of the group, and it was clear that japanese girl needed the ongoing support of the female staff.

　now she is the closest staff to kiki. as she supported her individual works, mostly acting activities in both korea and japan, minji spents a lot of time with her and recognized each other as a best friend. although seventeen’s management job is pretty hard and busy, it’s rare to see that same person remains in the team from debut. she’s one of ‘famous’ staffs like hyelim-nim, bumzu and kim yeonsoo that carats recognize.

⸺ 𝘛𝘐𝘍𝘍𝘈𝘕𝘠 𝘚𝘖𝘕𝘌 › . 曽根 ティファニー

✦ ☀️ ⸝⸝ ⸺ 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘶. 𝘴. 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 .

　TIFFANY SONE was born in 1992 in chicago, the united states. her father is a japanese, grew up in tokyo and left his hometown to purchase his career as a classic musician. later on, he got a place in the chicago symphony orchestra. he met a japanese woman in the city, which was tiffany’s mother. they divorced when tiffany was a little kid, but her father remarried a korean woman after few years later. from this moment, tiffany got interested in korean language and culture through her step mother. she studied linguistics at the college, ended up working at pr company.

　tiffany started to work at pledis around 2019. she is in charge of the group’s u.s. activities as a manager and translator. tiffany has an open mind, bright personality and great sence of humor. all members loved her for it right after they met. now she’s spending more time with kiki, due to the attention she got from overseas.

(    📁    )   :   NAVI   :  MASTER LIST     

(    tag list    )   :   @smh-anon @jennwonwoo @angie-x3 @scarlet789

[takaraphoenix]

Sometimes I find it frustrating that when they designed Tim, they got so stuck on red.

Because damn it that Bat boys design is really really hard to tell apart so the color coding is actually much appreciated!

See blue on the black-haired guy hanging out at the Wayne Mansion? Yep, that is definitely Dickie!

Yellow went to Duke, purple went to Steph, green went to Damian. Okay, so there is a slight overlap since what little of Cass’ outfit(s) isn’t black is also yellow - which is an irritation on the rainbow side, but, uh, Duke and Cass are easily told apart.

But. But both Jason and Tim are red.

ORANGE IS STILL RIGHT THERE. UP FOR GRABS. I wish Tim was The Orange Bat 1.) to make it easier to tell civilian Tim and civilian Jason apart because too many artists make that very very hard, 2.) to complete the Bat Rainbow.

[miraclemaya]

SAYO: “Yes, as you can see, a player that is being pocketed, that is one that a medic player is focusing their attention on, typically has a higher chance of survival in any engagement. As such, a pocket medic is rather desirable for most people playing classes such as Demoman, Solider, or Heavy. Even other classes like Scout, Engineer, and Pyro can greatly benefit from a pocket, though typically the heavy and solider are the most common to receive one.” Sayo coughs into her hand, seemingly embarrassed for no reason.

THE CHASE - Ask her what’s wrong. Be attentive to her needs, and she’ll never want to leave you. She’ll never even consider it a possibility.

THE LADY - I concur, though that scoundrel’s reasoning is as always off-putting. Rather, the correct decision is to inquire into Lady Hikawa’s sudden shyness, as that is what a proper lady would do.

CHISATO - “What’s wrong, Sayo-chan? I don’t see what could be embarrassing about, uh, ‘pocketing’? Am I saying that right?”

THE DIRECTOR - Your pronunciation was impeccable. To pretend that you were worried you might have gotten it wrong is unbelievable. A failing grade. You are assigned an hour of rehearsal tonight.

THE DOLL - No, no if she thinks you’re better then her, she’ll hate you, you have to be small please, please be small, you can’t let her hate you.

THE CHASE - Kiss her, kiss her now, don’t let her ruminate on your mistake, give her pleasure so she forgets, don’t let her get away.

SAYO - “You said it correctly, Shirasagi-san.”

THE DOLL - Tell her to call you by your first name. She’s your friend isn’t she, she has to be, she said so before, so tell her to call you by your first name.

THE LADY - She isn’t simply your friend, as disgusting as it is. No, Lady Hikawa is the target of your affections, and as such, distance is to be maintained. You are not yet, wed, after all.

SAYO - “But, ahem, my… embarrassment comes from what I wish to ask you, Shirasagi-san. Would you be… open to playing this game with me? And taking the role of my pocket medic?”

THE DOLL - SHE WANTS TO PLAY WITH US? SHE WANTS TO PLAY? YES!

THE WALL - Tell her no. To get too close to another is to relinquish the right to your own existence. Has Sayo truly proven herself? Will she not use you like all the others? Why continue this charade, this saccharine attempt at some sort of relationship with another human being. End it now.

THE CHASE - This is your opportunity. Someone like Sayo inviting you to play games with her is tantamount to accepting you as her girlfriend. This is what you want most, isn’t it?

THE LOVER - I think it would make Sayo-chan happy if you say yes. I think that’s a good enough reason as any.

CHISATO - “I… I would like to give it a chance. I’m not sure that I will be any good at it, though. I have only played a few….”

SAYO - “First-person shooters?”

CHISATO - “Yes, those.”

SAYO - “This is embarrassing to admit, but I have an ulterior motive in this. I wish to spend more time with you, Shirasagi-san. So even if you are not fantastic at the game, you will still be helping me out… i-if that makes sense.”

THE LOVER - Sayo is such a thoughtful, kind person. She deserves the world, don’t you think?

THE CHASE - She’s in your trap now. Take her, she’s yours.

THE LADY - An offer such as this should be considered fully before it is accepted. This is the least you own Lady Hikawa.

CHISATO - “I… Sayo-chan, you’re awfully sweet, aren’t you?”

SAYO - Sayo blushes, looking away from you. She is smiling.

THE WALL - Is this some bizarre attempt at suicide. Do you want to let her hurt you, you fucking moron?

THE LOVER - She’s… she’s beautiful.

CHISATO - “I would love to. I’ll be in your care while we play Team Fortress 2 together, Sayo-chan.”

SAYO - Sayo still too embarrassed to look you in the eye, nods slightly. You catch her muttering something under her breath.

THE CHASE - What the fuck is a pocket gf?

[cleradinel]

a friendly reminder asking the cast about byler will never result in anything else but "i don't know-s" and "we'll see-s" and wasting the precious time you have at conventions on byler questions is at best useless and at worst a little awkward for everyone, because you're not going to get the answers you're looking for and you're putting the actors on the spot.

a friendly reminder ndas are very much a Real Thing and they are legally obligated to dismiss it and lie and not to disclose it, you know, as a non disclosure agreement would suggest. it's not a no confirmation agreement. it's a NON DISCLOSURE agreement.

[monster-noises]

Today i was told by a man in above the ass cut off jorts, a crop top that said 'worlds sluttiest dad' and the tiniest sunglasses known to man, in reference to my Look, that; 'the vibes are Perfect'

He/him

[victorianprincesskitkat]

Or, you know, the time a doctor said, to help my severe POTS brain fog which has me spacing out so badly that it's dangerous for me to drive, to "Lose weight and get a hobby." Or rather "to find my focus. Something that gets me up in the morning that I enjoy." So to, "stop eating all the cakes and breads and find a focus." (Also, I'm celiac, so...) Apparently, drawing/painting, musical theater vocal lessons, choir, cosplay/historical reproduction, baking, gaming, antiquing, decorating, and writing (though writing is my job, not a hobby) aren't enough. Taking suggestions for new hobbies. /s. (Also I made this little meme with Canva. Probably should give that a mention.)

[the-yellow-moon-pack]

What if I made my next lead a Faelcu-magic nightmare. Asking for me

[snekdood]

Ok wait. After actually doing a bit more research. How in tf did the nazis think ppl in eastern europe were bad and less white but ppl in southeastern europe aren't...? Dont the two literally blend together?? At what point is it cut off?? ? Like. literally hitler was only fucking with them for their resources...????? A lot of white supremacists today dont think anyone south of western europe is white :| how is any of this supposed to even work and how do these people deal with so many logical inconsistencies?????????

[trashbaget]

.

[whimsyandcarnelian]

Brb lemme just go melt in embarrassment and shame because there's clearly something abnormal about my periods and I haven't gotten it checked yet out of fear and fear alone. 🫠

[thebadtimewolf]

to say the tenth doctor didnt look at rose sexually at all is insane….

Tenth Doctor has his insane Moments.

thats a 50th anniversary pun right there. for free.

[kitasuno]

with you, i'm first | miya osamu x reader

in which miya osamu is used to coming second to his brother. but with you, he's always first.

wc: 1113 | gn!reader | fluff

Miya Osamu is used to coming second. 

It starts with Atsumu, like most things do. October is cold and gray and Atsumu comes first, a small body with a large presence that fills the warm hospital room. His cries are loud and he’s a little underweight, but with him comes the sun. 

Atsumu is born under a partly cloudy sky but the nurses swear he was shrouded in sunlight. 

Osamu comes twelve minutes later. His parents are crying and his Ma is close to passing out. If he thinks really hard he can almost feel her warmth, Atsumu’s sobs, and a mumble of prayers that October has safely brought Atsumu and then Osamu.

He asks Grandma one day what the weather was like when he was born. She says, with confidence, it was foggy.

Atsumu doesn’t get along with his classmates. He is too loud and too rash and lacks social cues, and Osamu is angry because Stupid ‘Tsumu cares too little: and he wants everyone to know Atsumu like he knows Atsumu.

They fight and they yell and they argue until Atsumu says, 

‘Samu, I don’t care about ‘em. Why do ya care so much? 

And Osamu throws him across the room. The argument ends there, he says sorry, and Osamu lies awake that night thinking about his brother. Atsumu is hotheaded. And an idiot. A loud snorer, too. But he turns on his side and curls into a ball because he knows it was sunny when Atsumu was born and all of a sudden he really wants to be his brother. 

Atsumu dyes his hair first: it’s a shitty box dye from the pharmacy down the street, and it looks terrible. It’s a little yellow and a little neon, and Osamu laughs until his sides hurt when Atsumu shows him. 

But Atsumu is proud, and he is confident, and he goes to school with a hundred watt smile and a group of girls trailing after him. 

Osamu goes to the pharmacy that night and buys a box of gray, cloudy dye. Atsumu helps him bleach his hair under their bathroom sink with the faulty tap and tells him he looks like the moon.

His Ma says that Atsu is hot and Samu is cold after the two have a particularly bad fight. Atsumu is gleeful and smug as he gloats that he was born to be hotter and warmer and better, and Osamu punches him. 

He remembers his Ma sitting on the porch, an arm around his shoulders as he pouts. 

“‘S not fair,” Osamu had said, his chin in his palm. “Why’d ya name Tsumu that?” 

His Ma had laughed, quietly, leaning her weight into his side. And she had held his cheeks between her palms and told him with a fire in her eyes that Osamu means To Rule. 

He meets you for the first time in February. 

You were standing in front of him, a little sheepish, with a box of chocolates in your extended palms. He remembers feeling something heavy in his chest. Because, yeah, Atsumu was definitely going to accept your confession. 

You had said, IReallyLikeYou, and Here’sSomeChocolates, and Please Accept Them. 

You were shorter than him, and your hair was done nicely, and you were blushing and nervous. And you were really fucking cute. But Osamu is used to coming second, so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, Why? And then, Tsumu’s in tha next classroom ov’r. 

He doesn’t remember what happened next, only Atsumu’s laugh and the slap echoing through the halls. You leave with his cheeks stinging and hot. And Atsumu had teased him the next day, behind his mountain of chocolates and confessions, because Osamu’s face was still red twelve hours later. 

He sees you a lot the year after. 

You’re in the same class as him and ‘Tsumu, and you smile every time you see him. You sit two rows in front of him and you’re not very good at tying your uniform. Every lunch, Osamu watches you pull out the same gray bento with a wrapped onigiri on the side. He tells you one day that he really likes onigiri. And then, Osamu watches as every lunch, you pull out the same gray bento with two wrapped onigiris on the side. 

With you, it’s always Hi Osamu, first, and then, Hullo Atsumu. With you, it’s an onigiri dropped on his desk when the lunch bell rings. With you, Osamu thinks back to a conversation with his Ma on a porch. 

Osamu means To Rule.

The menu is this: Tuna mayo on Mondays and Thursdays, Ume on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday is plain. You don’t ever bring onigiri for his brother. 

He asks you, on a hot night in June, what your favorite type of weather is. You had your knees tucked to your chest, a sparkler in hand, and then told him cloudy. Cold. Foggy. Winter. Snow is nice, too. You say it all with no hesitation. 

Osamu kisses you for the first time that night. 

It’s New Years and you’re cooking Ozoni on the stove. The curtains are open, it’s snowing outside, and Osamu wakes to the smell of miso and the sound of carrots on a chopping board. He gets out of bed, padding to the kitchen with half-lidded eyes and a stifled yawn, and then he thinks his heart stops when he sees you. 

Because what Miya Osamu is not used to is this: coming first and having something unequivocally his. 

But you’re bent over the counter, fiddling with the oven as you read the instructions on the back of the packaged Yakimochi you bought the other day. And you’re wearing his shirt, it falls right below your thighs, your hair is still messy from using his chest as a pillow, and you look beautiful. 

“Mornin’ ‘Samu, come help me with this.” You say, looking back at him with a smile, pointing to the fresh pot of rice on the counter. “You’re in charge of onigiri.”

He hugs you instead, his arms around your stomach with your back to him. 

“But I like yer onigiri,” He says, his chin on your head. His eyes are watering and it must be from the steam of your boiling dashi. 

“‘Samu,” You complain, giggling as he presses kisses into the crown of your head. “I made enough for ya in high school.” 

It’s cold outside and snowing, and Osamu knows he’s going to make the onigiri. 

He also knows that if his name means To Rule, he’s okay with coming second if it means you’re by his side.