#first time yapping in public wow

[springthecowboy]

I need more lore on the lobotomy corp storybots au lol

I haven't fleshed it out fully yet but I have some concepts and lore about the lobotomybots so this'll be some incoherent ramblings about an au I like this will have major lobotomy corp spoilers btw) It mainly focuses around the filter, which the human engineers made because they went "ew ugly change it" and made them into their trash can shapes. The reason why they're cylinder shaped in Ask the Storybots is because they filmed it first then put the filter on. Due to- you know, having to conceal their actual forms a lot of storyots get insecure about their appearance n all. It's a sort of taboo topic in the computer world, some storybots love the filter, others hate it, others are neutral etc. Now onto team 341b, in the lobotomybots au they have a less found family trope and more of couple of bots who work together type of deal. Bang - If you've seen the design I've created for him you've seen the green fluid leaking out of him. That's enkephalin, basically a highly addictive drug. He's chill and laid back but after all the work he's done for the company he realizes that it just doesn't matter. They do the same shit everyday, answer kids questions. Quite monotonous. He spends most of his time off work alone in his apartment getting high on enkephalin. He wants to become better but he doesn't know how, he's self aware to know his problems but not how to fix them. Bing - He's- well, not exactly bing. Or at least the original one. Because of his wild and reckless behavior that gets the team in trouble, they decided to replace him every so often so he doesn't get out of hand. Basically tiphereth b. Bing is painfully aware of this- trying to attach himself to his fellow teammates. He does even more rash and careless decisions and actions because he'll just get replaced again anyway, so why even try to be better? YOLO or somethin. Boop - Boop's gone apathetic from this all. He doesn't really care what happens just as long as they answer the question. He used to care a lot about Bing, seeing him as a younger brother. But after 40 or so replacements, he's gone numb. He used to be friends with the other 3, but broke off it off with Beep, let Bang go, and was too tired to deal with Bo. A funny thought I had was that when in the show he says "Boop" it's actually to censor the actual things he's saying without the filter. Beep - She's basically if Malkuth and Hod had a love child. Beep is the appointed team leader who's nice but it's really to atone for her sins and what she did to Bing. She makes some sort of attempt to comfort her teammates, but generally it makes the situation worse than if she had said nothing. So usually she just persists to find the answer and let someone else comfort her team. Beep has good intentions and does nice things but most of the time it's to feed her ego to make herself feel better and ignore the harm she's done. She wants to help- but she doesn't know how. Bo - Bo is overly emotional, after Bing started to get replaced she really got worse. She's a slave to her emotions so her actions and decisions are mainly emotion based. She has to be reasoned with by Bang and Beep as to not get her team into big trouble. Also, because of the filter, she has some body dysmorphia. She wishes the filter didn't have to exist so she could really be herself. Bo is so happy on the job all the time because she literally just lies to herself and distracts herself from the harsh truth. Kinda like Bang but with no drugs.

[yummyyumberries]

MIDAS TOUCH

MIDAS TOUCH

Pairing - switch!keeho x switch!fem!reader

includes - idol!KIOF, idol!PIWON

Warnings: oral (f & m receiving), drinking, hickeys, smut with little plot, spit, hair pulling, Semi public sex, cum eating, fingering, kys joke, not proofread, if i missed anything please lmk!!

an: This is my first time writing smut so it’s not the greatest but i still tried!! i was lowkey yapping this whole story my b 😭 this is 100% inspired by the video of keeho and intak in the club 😭😭 tysm for reading and i hope u enjoy!

Your company worked with a bunch on companies to put on a huge concert in LA similar to coachella. You and your members are in the car heading to your hotel when your manager mentions the after party. Julie squeals and demands the whole car to get ready right when you guys get to the hotel. You were so exhausted from performing the whole day but when you get to the hotel you decided to get ready anyways. You put on a short black mini skirt, a black crop top and leather jacket. While doing your makeup you get a text from a cute boy you saw backstage at the event.

KYO : are u coming to the party?

Y/N : yup, julie is forcing the whole group

lol

KYO : lol

KYO : see u then ;)

You softly smile at your phone and set it down face down when your member, Julie, walks in from the bathroom in a short, loose fitting dress with lace around the top and a gray jean jacket. “Y/N is this a good outfit?” she says before she twirls to give you a 360 of her outfit “wow Julie, u look stunning as usual” u say looking her up and down with a a wide smile on your face “i like the lace, it’s cute” she gives you a warm smile and sits on the edge of the hotel bed “show me what your wearing” she says continuously tapping you. You get up from the floor and do a spin for Julie. While you’re turned around Julie slaps your ass making you jump. you and Julie burst out laughing and you sit back on the floor to continue your makeup while Julie goes to text the others and put on her shoes. you put on your lip combo and finish off with a pair black bunny ears Julie got you. You and your members collect in the hallway to take pictures then your manager drives you to the club where the party is at. You and your members walk in. You link arms with Julie and Natty and walk into the crowd of wasted idols while Belle and Hanuel get drinks. You can feel everyone breathing all around you but it doesn’t bother you. Julie grabs you and starts to playfully grind on you, Natty starts to laugh and pulls out her phone to start recording you and Julie. Laughing, you look up from Julie and lock eyes with the gray haired boy from earlier while a boy with long, black, mullet type hair talks to him,Theo? you think his name is but you can’t remember. but you can tell keeho is not listening to a thing he’s saying. You immediately choke on air and lean over to Natty and keeps your hand on her shoulder to support you while you stumble with your free hand on your chest. Julie looks at you confused and yells loud enough for you and natty to hear her that you guys should get drinks. At the bar you tell natty and julie what happened. they look at each other, look at you, and start laughing while you throw down your first shot of the night. “Wait, wait, wait THATS why you made a scene??” Natty says between laughs. You roll your eyes at Nattys comment “You should talk to him instead of being a mess!” Natty continues. “Now we all know she can’t do that sober” Julie adds on holding her 2nd shot. “Hey!” you say hitting her arm and laughing. You sigh “Your right..”. Natty and Julie have now made it their goal to 1. Get you drunk and 2. Get you to hook up with keeho. You guys order more shots. 2nd shot, you’re still sober. 5th shot Natty and Julie are wasted but you can still understand what they’re saying and you have a feeling that your going to puke, your drunk but not drunk enough. 12 shots later you’re definitely drunk by how you immediately stumbled when you got up from your seat. You, Natty and Julie immediately laugh and help you up. You dust yourself off and see keeho around 3 meters away from you. You take a deep breath and start to walk up to him while Julie follows and Natty walks off to find wasted belle and haneul. You walk up to him and open your mouth but you stumble into him before you can get a word out. In the 3 seconds this happened Julie and that black haired boy from earlier are off dancing somewhere. You look at him and laugh wrapping your arms around his neck while he rests his hands on your hips. “I’m Y/N” you say loud enough for him to hear. He softly chuckles “I know that beautiful” He reply’s with a playful smirk on his face. “What’s your like actual name?” you whisper in his ear because your throat hurts from yelling. “Stephen” he whispers back, his lips grazing your ear causing you to bite your lip and hide you face in the crook of his neck. you whisper back through small laughs “oh my god please do that again, that was so hot”. Out of nowhere your groups song Midas Touch starts to play and Julie Theo appears to drag you and Keeho to the center where the rest of the group is and see them in their positions. Adrenaline rushes through your body and you start to dance with your group, sneaking winks to Keeho here and there which is

100% working and making him blush. During the chorus you sneak off to tease him a bit and grind on him. before your members can notice and before your center part comes up, you slip him a piece of paper and wink at him and go back to dance with your group. He unfolds the paper to a message that says “Meet me in the bathroom ♡” he blushes and crumbles up the note before Theo can read it. The dance finishes and everyone claps while you guys smile and bow to the people watching. You lock eyes with Keeho and he has slight smirk on his face. You walk up to him, grab his hand and lead him into the club bathroom, locking the door behind you. Right as the door locks he aggressively presses his lips against yours. His soft moans and whimpers into the kiss make you deepen the kiss, turning into a heated make out session. After about 2 minutes he starts to pull away, you lean in more to continue the kiss but your lips eventually disconnect. “Is this okay?” he says between pants. You give him a slight nod and cup his face with both of you hands, pulling him back into the kiss. He starts to take off your jacket and starts to pull off his blue over shirt. You pull at the bottom of his shirt signaling that you want him to take it off. He immediately pulls off shirt and throws it to the floor. You move away from the door and lead him to the sink pressing his back onto it. You break the kiss and unbuckle his pants, lightly pulling down his jeans and boxers. He moans as the cold air hits his throbbing cock. You tease him and lightly and trace his cock. He lets out a whine and begs “Baby…please touch me..please”. Your eyes widen when he says that. You have no idea what you did but you have this man under your control. You spit onto his cock and jerk him off causing him to moan and whimper uncontrollably. You kiss his red tip and start to put the whole thing down your throat. Slowly sucking and jerking him off. “Mhm…gonna cum” he says between pants and his voice shaking. You slowly pick up your pace. “Fuck..” He whispers as his orgasm gets closer. You look up at him and lock eyes with him as you suck his cock which immediately makes him cum into your mouth. You look up at him as you swallow his load. You get up from your knees and grab his jaw. “Open.” You say with a stern voice and he immediately obeys. You spit into his mouth and he looks you dead in your eyes as he swallows it. Opening his mouth to show you that he did. You smirk at him and slowly spin him around so you guys have switched places. He picks you up and places you on top of the sink as he kisses your neck and marks your neck until there is a dark purple bruise on your neck. He proudly smiles at his work. He presses his lips back onto yours, you try to deepen the kiss again but Keeho takes a fist full of your hair and pulls it. causing you to moan. He smiles against your lips realizing that he now has you under his control. he pulls away from the kiss and pulls down your skirt, revealing you black, lace underwear. he pulls it to the side and starts to leave soft kisses on your inner thighs. His warm tongue sends shivers down your spine as he licks your wet cunt. You close slap your hand over your mouth to hide moans. He looks up at you and laughs at the sight, making you moan even harder. The lewd sounds coming from your wet pussy and mouth made you thankful for the loud music playing from the speakers. “Mmng- gonna cum..” you say between heavy pants. His mouth disconnects from your cunt and shoves two fingers into you without warning, causing you to loudly moan from the pleasure. He swiftly pumps in and out of you as he kissed your neck. “Please… fuck!” You’re not even sure what you’re begging for but you still are. “Cum on my fingers for me, y/n.” he says into your neck. You instantly cum when you hear his deep breathy voice. “good girl” he says looking into your eyes and kissing your lips. You smile into the kiss and hop off the sink grabbing your bunny ears and your jacket off the floor. You feel him wrap his arms around you as he places one last kiss on your neck

and puts his shirts back on. He opens the bathroom door for you and you both walk out, giving each other one last hug. You stand there as he walks away, when he gets to a point where he can’t see you, you immediately pull out your phone and text the KIOF group chat.

Y/N : U GUYS WILL NOT BELIVE WHAF JUST HAPPENED.

JULIE : YOU HOOKED UP WITH HIM???

NATTY : of course she did idiot

HANEUL : who??

BELLE : the one with the black hair??

JULIE : that’s who i was with dummy

BELLE : not my fault ur with a new guy every week

JULIE : kys

Y/N : LMAOOOOO

Y/N : remember the guy that i was backstage with?

Y/N : it was him

HANEUL : the dancer???

Y/N : ur so dumb

NATTY : let’s meet at the bar

NATTY : tell us EVERYTHING y/n!!!!

Y/N : haha okay

[abiogenesiis]

– Lear, trans and gay. Cheren, bisexual. (I'm also bisexual, teehee)

– In a conversation, either in person or via a phone call, there would be times where Lear talks the most, and others when Cheren talks the most. But, it's usually the former. Lear rambles and yaps about many things, Cheren just sits and listens, occasionally voicing a comment or inquiry here and there.

– They can talk for long amounts of time, but they can also sit in a comfortable silence, if one or neither of them feel like talking much. Branching off this, if Lear were to have a bad day, Cheren would sit down with him and hold his hand, caressing it with his thumb until Lear opens up to him. If Cheren were to have a bad day, Lear would do anything in his power to make it a good one. Dinner, a walk, anything to take Cheren's mind off what's causing him stress.

– Cheren's presence relaxes Lear immensely. Just having him near, or when he's right by his very side, puts him at ease. Because he's there.

– While Cheren is away in Unova, if he's ever on a phone call with Lear and he's up late, Lear will always urge him to sleep, yet Cheren says he's not tired. And yet, the sound of Lear's voice puts him at peace so often, that he once fell asleep, but not before he let Lear knew that first.

– Hand holding. They hold hands a lot. Mostly because Lear is the first to grab Cheren's wrist, then Cheren allows their fingers to intertwine.

– The beach that Lear frequents is their place. Either to watch the waves, or to go on a stroll along the shore. They've even watched the sunrise once.

– Lear is incredibly grateful to Cheren for everything that happened during the PML. He holds much pride for what Cheren has done for both him and everything else, and hopes to do something for Cheren in return, so that they'd be even.

– Cheren adores seeing Lear's eyes. When Cheren kisses Lear's face, he starts with his cheeks before moving to his forehead and his eyelids. He's said that Lear's eyes are like starlight. In fact, Cheren might be the only one with permission to remove his sunglasses off his face.

– As for Lear, he is more akin to hand kisses. He loves how nice Cheren's hands feel.

– Lear knows how to play the violin, and a little piano. He's exceptionally good with the violin, absolutely perfect After his mother's passing, though, he stopped playing and hid his violin in its case away, collecting dust somewhere in his room.

– Cheren knows how to play the piano, he learned when he was younger, way before he was old enough to embark on his journey in Unova.

– Stargazing dates. Lear knows a lot about the stars and constellations. He's always pointing to multiple stars in the sky, rattling on about many different facts he knows, while Cheren listens carefully as he holds his hand. There were stars in the sky like the ones in Lear's eyes whenever Cheren looked at him.

– Cuddling positions! Both alternate between big and little spoon.

– A stim of Cheren's is adjusting his tie, something he does when he's nervous, flustered or getting serious about something. He also bounces his leg when he's sitting, maybe while he's focusing on something like a book.

– Battles between them always come with a little playful banter. Because I feel we didn't get enough of them being "enemies" in the PML arc. Or maybe I just like the idea of Cheren getting under Lear's skin a little. It's all in good fun.

– Stolen glances, in every room they're in. Even if they're separated, Lear will always find Cheren in a crowded room. (Wow, that's so So High School by Taylor Swift coded). But when Cheren would hold his gaze from across the room, and smiles at him so fondly, Lear's poor heart turns to mush.

– Speaking of crowded places, once Cheren is at his side, Lear is inclined for them to hold hands. Yet, he gets nervous about doing so in public, so the most they could do is holding pinkies. Imagine the yearning and pining this can be born from this, especially if their relationship hadn't been established yet.

– When Lear gets worked up over something that's been causing him turmoil, or when he feels too overwhelmed by something and/or everything, there are times where he'll break down in Cheren's arms. No one's ever seen him cry, perhaps even Rachel and Sawyer, too. But he allows Cheren to hold him so so gently as he speaks to him in such a soft tone of voice, drying his tears and kissing his face and assuring him that everything is alright.

– Once, Cheren looked through old photos of his with Lear, back when he went on his journey in Unova. Cheren is slightly flustered, considering Lear is literally looking at his fourteen year old self, but he enjoys sharing his stories with him - someone he loves very much.

– Lear had seen Cheren with his glasses on before while he stayed over at the villa. He was reading with his hair tied up. Lear was flustered at the very sight and asked about his glasses. He curtly complimented how he looked with them on, yet when Cheren asked him to repeat himself, Lear refused to answer and pretended he didn't hear him.

– Affirmations. Plenty of affirmations and praise to share between them. Cheren usually gives some very sweet words to Lear when he's in low spirits, it's to cheer him up! Maybe give him a kiss or two, because that always perks Lear back up. Sweet nothings while they cuddle...

– Lear's not immensely partial to nicknames, but he once called Cheren, "Cheri" and it stuck ever since. He uses it sometimes. Cheren calls Lear by his name, or a petname of sorts, his go-to is "my prince." And, occasionally, "Your Highness", just to tease him.

– Lear is a star, and Cheren is his moon.

[portalgunslinger]

lore stuff yay

yapping vvvv

so far in this story i have a large city with mutliple districts namrd after the colors CMYK+ white. its kind of like a hunger games thing where all of the districts represent some type of class or ideals of the area…. or something

anyway most of the story takes place with Neve (the dark blue one) seeking revenge for whoever cursed him (“cursed” with Cryokenesis and douchebaggery) with his long time friend Satin (the light yellow one) who tries to help him by putting up with his moping around and lies

because hes been cursed eith the cryokenisis he has no resistance to the cold his body generates. Luckily satin was born with pyrokenisis shes honed her entire life and can use very preciceley

she tries really hard to not fall into the hot headed angry firebender trope by being as gentle and she can force herself to be, but deep down Satin is an incredibly jealous and bitter girl and Neve often takes advantage of this by lying about things people have said about her in order to make her angry, and generate enough heat for him to feel less frozen. satin knows hes using her but shes so codependent on him she never says anything, as long as he stays around and doesnt talk or think about anyone else :3 (she killss him in a blind fit of rage in a battle later)

after neve dies hes picked up by Kacey, an a lister celebrity and unbeatable champion of (insert vauge tourney here). kacey has no real physical strength but her mind control ability is more than enough to hold her place at the top. anyway turns out neve is not dead but veryyyy close. kacey nurses him back to health with a healthy dose of intense hypnosis and mind control and in a few months hes an ice king- level mad minion of kacey’s, used as a fearless mercenary to take out her competition.

the light blue ones named Cas and hes kaceys one ans only real friend, because she hypnotized him tk think that. cas grew up in a special facility specifically built to create a human bioweapon for vauge the greater good and protection of the city. initially it went well and he wqs incredibly popular with the public after his debut due to his natural charm( and surprising people skills despite growing up in a lab with other homunculi) but during an accident that destroyed the facility, he lost the ability to tap into whatever power was installed into his system. desperate to keep his fame and the incident under wraps he hide sunder the protection of kacey. at first it was a genuine friendship, until kacey started “correcting” cas to act in a way she deemed more fitting for him via hypnosis. it took him a really long time to realize whag was happening but by then it was tooooo late :( now he and neve(‘s corpse) are best hypnotized friends wow ok im tired gn

[hesperidia]

1 21

Ask game ✩

Thanks for the ask! this was on the inbox for a while, bc i wanted to make a proper answer. sorry it got too long...

21- Something you’ve kept since childhood?:

Fairytale books!! One of my most prized possessions is a book that's like a "bestiary" for kids, with watercolor illustrations of creatures and fairies and little descriptions of each.

Two of my childhood plushies! One of them is going to be 24 years old soon. At this point that lion plushie is going to be forever with me, I'll be buried with it.

A (knockoff but still very cute) hello kitty blanket i've had since i was six <3

1- who is/are your comfort character(s)?: Okay this question goes under a read more because, it got too extensive

If you pay attention to this blog, you'll see i never shut up about Bungo Stray Dogs Ryuunosuke Akutagawa. But he isn't my comfort character (he gives me pain most of the time /hj) in fact, my comfort chara is Beast! Akutagawa:

He's the same character, but from the alternate universe presented in the bsd Beast light novel/manga adaptation. Basically, Akutagawa if he never got recruited into the mafia. I'd yap more about him but i already made a post however, i'll explain why he is here:

When i first read the main manga, i didn't care a lot about Akutagawa, it was until i read the Beast manga i started to open myself up, and there's something about him, about the fact that it doesn't matter how ugly of a person you are, how much self loathing you harbor for yourself, still there will be opportunities for you to be better, make better choices, have people who will support you in that difficult path. And, in turn, you can become that person for others (like beast Aku did with Atsushi).

I'm not going to lie, reading this manga threw me into turmoil more than once. There was a fair deal of projection as i read about Akutagawa's struggles, and his character development felt like a blow to the heart to me.

Plus, he has his fair share of silly moments, and takes his roasted tea with four sugar cubes iirc. Sweet tooth counter: 1

Also, from bsd, Ranpo Edogawa:

Okay so, I've a soft spot for characters who are childish, and look at the world from an unique perspective. Ranpo was actually the very first bsd chara i got attached to, and i liked him because he was a brat. At first he was a little shit, the worst coworker you could ask for (love it. v/ realistic) but the more you see of him, you'll notice how he can put aside his apparent selfishness and get serious.

When watching the anime adaptation of The Untold Origins of the Detective Agency light novel (the one where they show his backstory) i could not help but hardcore emphatize with him (and also project, recurring theme with all these charas 😅)

You have a kid who lost his family, got shunned by every adult he turned to for being too smart and too sincere, who met at the right time with a person who not only didn't dismiss him, but appreciated his insights, and Ranpo got too attached because someone was actually making the effort to understand him. That person would become his family later. Again, finding a place to belong and people who would accept you, and in turn giving that kindness to others (wow it's like this is one of the core themes of the manga. the sky is blue, water feels wet).

Looking back to Yosano's backstory, and the kind words (KIND WORDS!! RANPO? KIND? yes very real and true) he gave to her. The fact he went out of his way to retrieve her butterfly brooch. It's these little moments that make me appreciate Ranpo the most. That, and the fact that he puts aside all his pride when it comes to admit he fucks up. He might look conceited, but he really isn't...

Plus, he's loud, and silly, and scattered, and has a sweet tooth. (Sweet tooth counter: 2). Likes animals. He even can't use public transport properly at 26 y/o. Just like me fr...

Next a character i don't get to talk about a lot but she was the VERY FIRST character that i said ohhhh my god. I love you. You are me. What the hell... Annette Fantine Dominic from Fire Emblem Three Houses/Three Hopes:

Annette is super important to me. She's a person who is smart, but as a result of a continuous effort (she's a very good student, hardworking and diligent). And she kind of reminds me of myself when i was on hs. This doesn't mean she resents naturally talented ppl (her support conversations with Sylvain, another chara from the game, are some of the BEST in three houses).

Still, she feels the need to overachieve and overcompensate because her father, who's a knight, left her family when she was young so he could fulfil his duty to the kingdom and completely ignores the fact he has a daughter to take care of. Annette, kind of thinks that if she doesn't strive for perfection, people around her would leave like her dad did.

And she's always cheery, and puts up a smile, and tends to not recognize her talents (ex. she likes to sing about silly stuff, and does it really well, other charas point it out and Annie does not believe them at first, she tends to hold herself down). I'd talk more about her but it's been a while since i revisited fe3h...

Other things i like about her: She's 150cm tall and her personal weapon is a big ass magical hammer made of dragon bones called "Crusher". The first time she fights/defeats/kills someone in the game she asks her professor if she did okay. Likes cooking but ends up setting everything on fire (just like me... fr....) AND also has a sweet tooth (sweet tooth counter: 3)

Recently i got very. Very into Ensemble Stars, and a big part of it is these two (i talk less than i want to about them bc i still don't have all the facts, haven't read all their stories. But the fact they became SO important to me in such little time needs to be scientifically studied):

Mika Kagehira:

Mika is like crack cocaine for my brain. I got attached to him at first because 1- He was the very second card i got in the game and it made me curious. 2- His singing voice is so angelic (i know it doesn't have anything to do with the actual character, but there's something about Mika, who is very unkempt at times, struggles to take care of himself, actually having very clean vocals while performing. just a thought).

He's childish, and a lil (if you squint) obsessive, struggles with humanity (has a whole issue about being doll-like that he's trying to leave behind now) shy but will NOT hesitate to fight people. What i like about him the most, is his empathy. He stood beside his mentor/friend/obsessive crush???? when he had a breakdown and helped him get back up... A lot of times he shows concern for other characters and is up to giving good advice (Kohaku in tale of antiques comes to mind, and Midori in the Doll House scout story too).

(BY THE WAY, said mentor also constantly helps Mika when he's struggling and their relationship becomes healthier with time.. i am starting to think... there's a pattern here in what themes i tend to get attached to)

What else. His awful (affectionate) fashion sense. The fact he scavenges and repairs broken objects and plushies. He's an emo guy who has a card where he has blood on his hands and looks ecstatic about it. The chainsaw CG. The fact that he can't express his thoughts properly sometimes and getting misunderstood gets him down (ouch that happens to me) His favorite food is candy. Sweet tooth counter: 4

Last but not least, Leo Tsukinaga:

LEO i did not expect him to make it to my favs at first but he IS my favorite ensemble stars character ever on account of how many times i've screenshotted things he said. He reminds me of Ranpo a little bit personality wise, and the fact they're both geniuses. (who have struggled badly because of it). That and, being the ultimate sillies. (I've said it before, all my favs have to be a lil cringefail)

He always expects the best of ppl and the world around him, and that's his biggest weakness, that naiveté. After reading Checkmate i got genuinely sad for him, and the stories i read where ppl kept taking advantage of him made me angry (?) I find his general whimsy and unpredictableness(?) very endearing. He once said he hated Mozart and irl Mozart was also a very whimsical unserious person. (I wonder if they got compared alot and Leo grew tired of it).

Again it doesn't seem like so at first, but he cares SO MUCH about his friends. Izumi and Madara come to mind first. And even though he's a scatterbrain and has said, multiple times, that explaining himself is hard and that's why he prefers the language of music (one everyone can understand) i still remember his lines to Kohaku in sudden death, where he thanked him for being by Madara's side. I absolutely did not expect that. And i feel i've to mention this one line from night patrollers:

which i'll include because. because... i'm a broken record atp but the reciprocal support between people... augh (this screenshot is saved as "leo i love you" on my laptop... yeah)

Something i found in common between both mika and leo and probably Annette too is that they often refer to themselves as dumb??? but they ARE NOT they are really perceptive... i am hugging them both as i write this.

I couldn't recall if Leo likes sweet things. The sweet tooth total is 4. What else, he once got hipnotized into behaving like a cat but it was almost unnoticeable because he already acts like one. broke into his artistic rival's atelier in Paris just because he liked hanging out in there (iirc), does not take criticisms to his music/art very well (understandable 100%), goes from zero to 100 in 2 seconds. Dislikes sex jokes (ace king???) i <3 him.

There's so much i want to say about all of them but i can't. I'm insanely bad with words but i don't get to talk alot about these charas (the self consciousness eats me alive) and this was the perfect opportunity<3 Anywayyyy if you look for a pattern in here you'll sure find it

Honorary mentions for: Rei Sakuma and Kohaku Oukawa (enstars), Merrill (dragon age 2), Shinobu Kocho (kny), Lyon (fire emblem sacred stones) and Eliwood (fire emblem blazing blade). I would KEEP talking about them all but i am... eepy and this got insanely long sorry anon

[cakejerry]

Ok let me YAP

the 6.5 effect

Kpop is a very unique genre, in that it provides a whole package of audiovisual elements that influence the way we look at a song beyond just the music. That's why it's often seen as a 'fandom' rather than a categorization. You have the choregraphies, performances, music videos, and that's just as a casual viewer that is not susceptible to in-fandom references, screentime, group members etc, that all influence one's reception of a musical experience.

That's all to say, sometimes a song on its own, as it is in the studio, will be vastly different than the final product presented to the public. Sometimes that presentation will greatly SKEW and alter the reception. How many times have you listened to a great dance break part of a song, and on its own, musically, it's not all that, but in your head you know your bias ate the choreography, so you still enjoy it? cough not today cough

What about when the art direction misses completely?

Combined with the language barrier, a time comes when a PURE MUSIC ENJOYER like myself will take in a song at face value, only to find out the people behind the song completely MISINTERPRETED my, CORRECT elucidation of it. RUINING it forever.

Personal examples:

Gfriend-time for the moon night. When I first heard this song, the 'bam.bam bam bam~e' part gave me incredible nostalgia. A deep longing. Wanted to cry. You know what choreo has turned it into in my head? pure and simple aegyo -.-

Lovelyz-wow. Same thing with the 'jyae ippeo' part. Almost cried in my bed the first time I heard it. The choreo? Cute girls bouncing around. LIKE NO THAT'S NOT

Twice-fancy. A big one for me. Because the whole song sounds summery, playful and fun. sounds like an APRIL release. The music video? Neon lights and cunty outfits. who tf was responsible for this?????

Momoland-freeze. I made up such a SLAY choreo in my head for the kkok kkok summeora part only to find out the official thing is some come-up-with-sumn-quick BULLSHIT. bye

dishonorable mention: n*wj*ns (barf)- every time i see a video of their choreographies im like okayy okayy they're going hard waacking jumping popping lets see lets see but then I unmute it and they're singing like. christina perri a thousand years. taeyeon weekend. bamyanggang type of SNOOZERS. Just suchhh a disconnect on the whole thing i HATE those little cunts and their pedo boss

So, yeah.

[kyun-toast]

[ATEEZ] Mafia!San - Will You Join Me?

word count: 2.9k warnings: explicit language, gun use, violence, description of death (not explicit), sexually suggestive, gets a lil steamy summary: cupid has a bullet with your name on it a/n: Y/N a little dramatic and San annoying af. I wrote this in a two hour flash at 2am, so this might be deleted after I reread it tomorrow because I’m pretty sure a lot of this is just me chatting shit.

1. Yoon, David – 12:45 Note to self: likes donuts. probs dunkin’, maybe krispy? idk just look for a man w a paper bag.

“I’ll have to warn you though, the lift is under maintenance, so you’ll have to take the stairs.” The receptionist smiled at you sympathetically. “I can get someone to help you with your suitcase if you’d like?”

“Oh no, it’s ok, I’ll just find another place to stay. I have weak knees anyway.” You forced a laugh and hoped the lady didn’t notice the dead look in your eyes.

“I’m sorry about that, love.”

Turning away with your suitcase in tow, you headed towards the building opposite the hotel and hoped that the rooftop would be easy enough to access.

It was quite irresponsible of you not to have a backup plan. It seemed that being named the sharpest shooter in the underground world had gotten to your head a little, but you argued that a bit of spontaneity never hurt anybody. Though your target would beg to differ.

Being a public building of offices, it was all too easy for you to reach the roof of the building. You found that walking with your held head high and gaze set straight ahead would never get you questioned. Who would ever stop someone with a walk so confident?

Thankfully, the rooftop hadn’t been turned into some garden space: an air-conditioning fan over here, a water tank over there. You checked your wristwatch reading 12:40 and muttered under your breath. The damn hotel lift had taken precious minutes of your time and compromised your view.

You opened your suitcase to set up your sniper, giving your little black cat charm on the side of your gun a squish. Cute.

Sitting on the case with your stock snug against your shoulder, you peered into the scope to get a closer view of the revolving doors to the bank. Oh great, there’s a lamppost in the way.

Mr. Yoon was apparently quite the punctual man, always seen stepping into the bank doors after his lunch break at exactly quarter to one and therefore, your window of opportunity was thin.

“I want it done today or you’re getting sniped yourself, Y/N.” You heard the voice of your boss yap in your head again. Blah blah blah, same old threat. You argued that procrastinating the man’s death was actually something very considerate of you to do.

You heard a familiar clatter of metal hit the floor and you turned your scope to the rooftop opposite to see a man in overalls with his toolbox open on the floor.

“Lift maintenance guy?” You muttered to yourself and wondered if the mechanics of elevators ran all the way through to the rooftop. You made sure that you wouldn’t be in his line of vision and swivelled back to your original position, cursing the man under your breath for ruining your first choice of setup.

12:44

“Come on, Yoon. Lunch time’s almost over.” Your finger lay restless on the trigger, itching to get a glimpse of the bank teller.

20 seconds.

“Krispy or Dunkin’ what will it be today, entertain me.”

10 seconds.

You saw the man turn the corner and waited for him to get a little closer for you to shoot.

5 seconds.

“That’s it, just past the lamppost and you won’t even know what hit y- what the FU-?” You shouted and quickly clasped a hand to your mouth. Mr. Yoon hadn’t even made it past the post, and he was already laying on the pavement in a growing pool of blood.

Calculating the angle in which he was laying, you spun your vision around to the hotel rooftop and saw the maintenance man begin to pack up a sniper back into his toolbox. Taking off his cap, you noticed a flash of white in his jet-black hair and just like he knew you were watching, he turned with a smug grin on his face and shot you some finger guns.

“Oh, you little fucker.” You spat, and watched the man jump down into a hatch to disappear.

You slumped dramatically onto the floor and splayed your limbs to stare blankly at the sky. Never in your life had you ever missed a shot, let alone have it stolen by someone else, and your boss had your phone ringing to rub it in your face.

“That wasn’t you, was it?”

“Listen, what if? You know, what if that was my thirteenth reason? I just couldn’t take it anymore and that was it. No more Y/N. You wouldn’t even come to my funeral, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t because you’d be too broke to have one. You realise you’re not getting paid for this?”

“Why? He’s still dead?” You sat up in disbelief.

“Well, it turns out someone else wanted him gone too. I can’t lie to our client and say that we did it.”

“You’re oddly moral for someone that runs a hotline for hitmen.”

“I’ll call you if I find you another job.”

“Justice for freelance contract killers.” You muttered weakly as he ended the call. The faint sound of police sirens filled the air as you let out a heavy sigh and lay back on the concrete.

You pictured the man and wondered who it was that would even think to render the notorious Y/N L/N jobless. Though you did have to admit that it was a clean shot.

“Skunk-hair looking ass.”

2. Kim, Seungho – 18:00 Note to self: babysitting. easy target but kid knows NOTHING.

You were stationed by a corner window in an unfinished apartment building with a trainee by your side, setting up his kit.

Stood by the trainee, you scanned to see if everything was in the right place, checking the kid’s posture too. You had been sent by your boss to reluctantly train a young recruit and you joked if you had been demoted following your last predicament. You were never in it for the money though, you lived for the adrenaline.

The boy had potential and you saw it, he just needed to make cleaner shots because three bullets somewhat near the target’s vital organs wasn’t going to cut it.

“What’s your name again?”

“Jisung. Han Jisung.” The recruit replied, his eyes never leaving yours, in absolute awe.

“Eyes on the scope.”

“I’m sorry, nobody told me I’d be getting trained by you. The Seoul Shooter? Like wow.”

“Ew, is that what they’re calling me?”

“Yeah, well I think it’s a pretty cool name, they used to call me ‘Jitman’ in my hometown, not very creati-”

You shushed the boy and tapped his shoulder as you pointed to a small figure in the distance.

“You see him through the scope? Now keep your hand steady, never feel as if you’re being rushed. Death works to your schedule.”

“Got it.” Jisung said, following the man with his gun.

“Ok, on 3… 2… 1…”

You heard the bullet cut through the evening air and hit the target neatly through his office window.

“Bro? That was so clean? That has to be one of the sexiest shots I’ve seen in a while-” You began.

“Uhh, that wasn’t me, Y/N.”

Before you could even process what had happened, you heard the rustle of footsteps patter down the stairs behind you. Taking out your handgun, you moved towards the open door to find the same man you had seen on the hotel rooftop stop in his tracks on the landing. Clad in a fitted black sweater and jeans this time, he looked a whole lot more attractive close up.

“You again?” You exclaimed; gun still pointed at the man as he dropped his duffel bag to raise his hands.

His eyes widened, not in shock, but more with an excited glint in his eyes.

“Oh my, it’s Y/N, the Seoul Shooter.” A coy smile painted his lips as he shook his white fringe out of his eyes.

“See, everyone calls you that.” Jisung interjected from behind.

“Shut up, Han.”

“Word around town is that you’ve been unemployed for some time now,” nodding towards Han, he added, “and it looks like the rumours are true.”

“I’ve actually decided to take a break you know? Let the other kids have a chance at making a name for themselves. Bit of charity work.”

“Y/N kinda got demoted because you keep taking their shots.” Han interrupted again.

“Hey, who told you that?!” You narrowed your eyes at the boy. Han Jisung was a smart ass and you vowed then and there that you wouldn’t take on any more training sessions.

You whipped your head back around to the man eyeing your body up and down.

“My eyes are up here, sir. Unless you really wanna get shot.” You spat.

“Well, I’d die a happy man if you were the last thing I’d see.” He smirked in retaliation and studied your eyes carefully. “Well, my job here is done, I better be on my way. Got a big cheque waiting for me.” He grinned as he reached to grab his bag and carry his way on down the stairs with footsteps too light-hearted for your liking.

“Why didn’t you shoot him?” Jisung asked as you watched the man disappear into the evening.

“I don’t think killing a man for taking my shots is justified.”

“What, and sniping Mr. Kim Seungho just before he gets to feel the bliss of clocking out is?” He laughed. “Do you know what I think, Y/N?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I’m not going to say anything.”

Han Jisung tormented you the whole drive back to the quarters.

“Y/N and Skunk Man sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes lo-”

Smack.

“Ouch, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was just kidding.” He laughed as an idea struck him, “K-I-D-D-I-N-”

Smack.

3. Park, Kiha - 10:32 Note to self: bad man. bad, bad man. but big, big cheque.

Having had your last two shots stolen, mystery Skunk Man was beginning to get on your nerves. You were seething to the point that you demanded your boss give you another job, itching to defend your title of being the finest shooter in Seoul.

Laying on the floor of a rooftop hangar, the man had the gall to pop up out of the hatch to set up his station right next to you, as if you were both on some picnic.

"Nice seeing you here today, Y/N." He said, sitting cross legged to mount a scope to the top of his sniper.

Not even bothering to take your eyes off the target, you muttered, "I got here first, you better back off." voice laced with venom.

"Well I've been promised a cheque too, we're all just trying to get fed around here."

Ignoring him, you glanced down at your watch that read 10:31. Any time now, Park Kiha would be walking through the glass bridge to get to his meeting in the twin building.

Steadying your finger against the trigger, you held your breath and counted down from three, two, o-

"I like your cat charm by the way."

You pulled the trigger only for it to stray a little to the right, still hitting your target, just a little less central than you would have accepted.

You shot up from your position to face the man laying on his side, head propped up against his hand to look at you.

"Do you have something against me? Do I even know you?" You exclaimed, carding your gloved hand through your hair.

"No uhh, but I saw your face on a bounty poster once and thought you were cute." He said, attitude too blasé. "That was a nice shot though, I was going to wait a few more seconds."

"So you saw my picture, and started following me around to antagonise me?"

"Nah, I just happened to be super lucky to have been put on the same cases as you. Big bad men have a lot of people after them I guess?"

Throwing your equipment back into your bag, you watched the man proceed to roll over onto his back with his arms behind his head to look up at the sky.

The mid-morning sun cast a golden glow over his skin and though you spent most of your life working with guns, his uniform and kit next to him looked a little different, almost attractive. They suited him a little too much and you thought that if a sleek sniper were to be personified, it would look exactly like this leather clad man.

"I should ask for your number, the way you're looking at me right now, Y/N."

"Good luck, you won't get it." You turned to step down the hatch as he propped himself up again to watch you leave.

Choi, San – 15:25 Note to self: he’s kinda hot tho :/

So, we had finally put a name to the face. As your boss handed you a folder, you were slightly taken aback at the small ID picture pinned to the top of the file.

“You might be a little happy about this one.” He said, taking a sip of coffee. “He’s been recently recruited by ATEEZ as their sniper. Quite a deadly one too. He was scouted shooting pheasants down in the Namhae countryside apparently.”

“Hmm, how much?” You questioned.

“A million dollars.”

“Excuse me? A mill-?” You choked on the air and composed yourself just as quick to nonchalantly lean against the filing cabinet and look out the window, “I don’t know, he didn’t look a million dollars-worth to me.”

“He hasn’t been in the game long, but man has he taken down some big names.”

Though you didn’t necessarily feel too attached to Choi San, you did think that you were going to miss him a little. It was nice having a friend on your level to spar with.

Who were you kidding? You thought he was hot and that it would be a shame to have to shoot him.

But on second thought, you had been itching for the adrenaline in the trigger again, and the million dollars looked a lot sexier to you than some man.

“I’ll take it.”

-

San was all too easy to find. He seemed to enjoy hiding in plain sight since no common person would recognize him in the bustling streets of Gangnam. Nestled in the corner of another rooftop, you zoned in on the recognizable black and white hair sat outside on the terrace of a café.

Once you were ready, you repositioned your finger on the trigger and focused the cross hairs on the familiar head. You were steady until San lifted his head and stared right back at you through the scope, sending you a wink.

“Shit.” You muttered, his actions throwing you off and when you repositioned your aim, he had slipped into the crowd, now lost.

“No, no, no, no, no, Choi San, ugh.” Seeing that he knew what you were up to, you got up to pace around the rooftop. Your mind worked nonstop to find an alternate solution but all you could conclude was to go home, stay low and pick another day to continue.

This man had thrown you into the worst slump of your life, but you were somewhat enjoying the chase and you hated to admit it.

The abrupt sound of a closing of a door behind you had everything clicking into place.

“You pretty motherfucker, had this planned, didn’t you?” You laughed.

Upon hearing the cocking of a gun, you turned to pull out the throwing knife strapped to your thigh and pulled his body in by his collar to reach his throat. And it just turned out that San had the same idea in pushing his handgun up underneath your chin at the same time, faces a little too close.

“I like your beret.” San said candidly, jerking his brow up at the hat on your head.

“Me, too. It’s Marine Serre.”

“Nice choice.”

“I’m going to count down from three and we’re going to drop our weapons, ok? And talk this out like adults because I for one, didn’t wanna kill you.” You bargained.

“Sure.”

“Three, two, one!” The both of you pulled away for a split second in bluff only to reposition your weapons against each other’s throats again.

“I knew it.” San smirked.

“No, for real this time. I mean it.”

“Go ahead, baby.” He smiled as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“Three, two, o-”

San cut you off by leaning into your lips, placing onto them a kiss so intense, almost mirroring the violent nature of the situation. However, what surprised you more was that you let yourself melt back into him. He let his gun clatter to the floor to walk you backwards into the wall behind, hoisting your leg up around his waist.

You broke away from the kiss for air when he smiled, “I mean, it is kinda hot, but I would appreciate it if you could stop holding that knife against my throat right now, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine.” You muttered as San leaned back in to kiss you whilst roaming his hand around your thigh, ridding you of the rest of your knives and smirking against your lips in satisfaction.

Feeling his bulge grind between your legs, you both only grew more fervent for each other as you kissed.

“Wait, I wanna take you on a date first.” He pulled away to look you in the eye.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Mhmm, to Bar 1117.” He hummed, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“Isn’t that your company’s place…?”

“Yeah, they’re gonna love you.” He whispered, peppering small kisses down your throat.

“Are you trying to recruit me or fuck me, San?”

"I mean, you can kill me now and leave for that million dollars or you can come with me for a new job and that million dollar dick."

"You're unbelievable."

“I heard you were doing freelance anyway, baby.” He looked into your eyes again, a mischievous glow blooming across his face, “So, will you join me?”

-

disclaimer: San’s pie chart hair is one of my all time faves but I also can’t stop thinking that it looks a little skunk-like. In the cutest way. a/n: I've edited this a lot since I posted it and I think I'm gonna keep it

-

Mafia AU Masterlist

[honeymoonjin]

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: fanboy!taehyung x artist!reader

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 13.7k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: still bitter about a scandal that ruined your painting career, you’re recommended a getaway by your therapist to a small island off the coast of seoul. expecting a tranquil location to wallow in self-pity, you’re startled when on your first night, you encounter an avid fan of your work. instead of annoying you for an autograph, kim taehyung ends up being the very thing you need to fall in love with art again.

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: sexually explicit content, reader suffers from poor mental health but nothing serious, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, that’s kinda it, it’s pretty soft tbh

--

The breeze is light here, broken by the gentle rise of the sand dunes behind you. It runs over your skin like water, a warm current that lasts long after the sun slips below the horizon line.

You sit for hours watching it, the tail of pinks and oranges and ochres that reflect thickly on the top of the water, the shallow crests of low tide. There’s a pull in your heart, a twitch at your fingers. The you a year ago would’ve had her paints out already, an easel with legs precariously shoved in the dry sand. The you a year ago would have been tossing up whether cadmium yellow or cadmium orange would suit the last slip of sun above the water, and whether you should wait til it was gone entirely to save making the decision.

Then again, the you a year ago would never have needed to come here.

The you today just waits, silently, you don’t even know what for. You’d been told this was a getaway. That you just needed some time to recover your muse, or some bullshit like that. But the more time you sit in silence and watch the sky blacken to navy and the stars prick the darkness with dazzling clarity, you think your therapist was wrong. How was this a getaway when all your problems were still festering inside you?

“Oh my god, Y/n L/n?”

You groan and sink back into the sand, head cushioned on the warm piles. Just your fucking luck. “You’ve got the wrong person,” you call out with eyes squeezed shut, praying the stranger will leave you alone. The last thing you needed was a green reporter or psycho fan to spill your location to the rest of the world. You can only imagine the headline. Disgraced painter Y/n L/n found hiding away on a tropical island eight months after she ruined the Met Gala.

“Oh my god, it is you! I’m a massive fan, wow!”

Fuck. At least there was a chance they’d keep quiet. You crack open an eye, staring up at the figure beside you, cast in shadow. From the glint of moonlight, you can see a crown of ruffled hair that’s a faded teal. It reminds you of the impressionist painting of a mountain lake that threw your work into the public eye. Just as faded as the dye on his hair, that time feels worn and aged, like from another life. A reminder of how far you’d fallen. “Look,” you confess lowly to the silhouette, “I just wanna be left alone, I’m not- I’m just here for a break from...everything.”

The figure shifts his weight in the sand, raising an arm to scratch at the back of his neck shyly. “I don’t mean to disturb you,” he apologises. With the slight breeze, his baggy clothes buffet around his lean figure and in the darkness he looks like some vengeful angel, towering over you with the moon behind him. But his voice is so soft, so genuine, so- so warm. Perhaps not vengeful, then, but definitely an angel. “You’re a hero of mine, I wanted to thank you for how much you’ve inspired me, saved me. Gosh, it’s crazy that you’re even here, I-”

“I’m sorry,” you force out, sitting up, wincing as grains of sand work their way down the nape of your neck, “really, I am. But I’m not the person you’re thinking of. Not anymore, at least.” You hate the way your voice rings out so thinly in the night air, nothing like the deep honey of his. You hate the way you sound broken.

He senses it too; he takes a step back, turns towards the dunes. “I should be going, I guess,” he murmurs. “For what it’s worth, I hope I see you around. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You don’t respond, wrapping your arms around your hunched knees and staring at the silver ocean until you can no longer see him in your peripheral vision.

—

It’s over a week before you see him again. Though you’d never admit it to anyone, you keep an eye out for the boy with the teal hair. There wasn’t enough light that day to make out his face but still, with hardly any people for miles, you hadn’t anticipated he’d be all that difficult to find.

Truth be told, there had been a deep curl of regret and dissatisfaction that took root inside you shortly after you left. He was just trying to be nice, and you could use a friend. Could use someone.

You had asked for privacy when your therapist began recommending a break, a getaway, but you hadn’t expected it to this degree. The place you were staying at was a rundown bungalow just behind the dunes, tucked away in a sliver of land where sand met forest, rising up into hills. The only people you saw were the employees that ran it: a maid that stopped by every day at 1pm, even though you had already made the bed and cleaned up after yourself; an older gentleman that delivered you fresh groceries every couple of days in his ancient-looking four wheel drive; and finally, the electrician you’d had to call out a few nights prior after the power went out.

The mysterious fan hadn’t been dressed like an employee; then again, it was long past the workday when he’d approached you. Mulishly, you find yourself lugging a picnic blanket and a pillow down to the beachfront every evening, monitoring every inch of the coastline that stretches around this edge of the peninsula.

It’s only on the ninth night, when you’re folding up your rough blanket with a disappointed grumble, that a sudden yap catches your attention. You whirl around, toes sinking deeper into the light sand, and gasp as a familiar silhouette approaches, stumbling down a sand dune to your left.

He hasn’t seen you yet; so focused on the tiny fluffball that tugs restlessly at its leash. It’s a lot earlier tonight than the last time you’d seen him, and there’s enough remnants of sunlight in the sky to cast him in a warm golden glow.

He’s in baggy clothes like last time, a long-sleeved white t-shirt with a v in the center, unbuttoned and sagging over the shoulder of the arm that’s getting yanked along, and some tan linen shorts. It’s hard to tell with how he sinks to his ankles in sand with every step, but he’s barefoot, almost sliding down the steep dune more so than walking.

You can’t hear him at this distance, but his lips are moving, parted in a boxy grin as he responds to the constant yipping of the tiny dog at his feet. He’s gorgeous, tanned skin to fit the honey of his voice - the voice you’ve been unable to shake from your head - and the roots of his hair are the colour of brown sugar, lightening into the dyed teal ends, whipping over his cheeks and neck in the seabreeze.

He turns off when he reaches the base, following his dog, who pulls in your direction, short bursts of energy that get cut off by the length of the leash. Your heart jumps, and you find yourself waiting in anticipation, breath caught in your throat.

But the moment he glances up and sees you, he halts in his tracks. Stepping back, his smile falls, bowing his head to you apologetically and pulling on the leash so that the small black-and-tan puppy at his feet turns around with him.

They start walking away from you, and you don't have time to think before you're calling out to him, jogging over with your blanket and pillow forgotten behind you.

He stops walking, though he doesn't turn, and when you finally come to a stop beside him, he keeps his head down.

"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday," you rush out, slightly out of breath, "I was in a really shitty mood, and I had kinda come here to get away from...everything in the first place. I wasn't expecting a fan, and I reacted badly. I'm sorry."

Even after standing still, you can't seem to catch your breath. You haven't seen him this close, in this much detail, and it makes the air catch in your lungs. His eyes are an intense burnt umber, dancing over your face with an unreadable depth to them. He's taller than you, but not bulky. Though his shoulders are wide, he's lean, with a narrow nose and soft cheeks. The wind plays with the ends of his hair, revealing glimpses of a strong brow. He's beautiful.

"I didn't mean to bother you," he says after a moment, and you almost jump at the timbre of his voice so close to you, "I should be the one apologising. I'll leave you alone, honestly. I can find another place to go for a walk, or go at a different time-"

"Do you walk here a lot at this time?" you interrupt, the euphoria of finally holding a conversation after so long loosening your tongue. "You haven't been back since that night."

He tips his head to the side, shoulder jerking when his dog impatiently tugs at the leash, quiet snuffles and yips of disapproval ignored in the air between you. There's a flicker of something in his eyes - surprise? Amusement? "You were looking for me?"

"I-" Your voice fails you, and you realise how pathetic you must look. Your shoulders sink. "I was... I wanted to apologise," you land on finally.

That strange flicker in his eyes settles into a grateful warmth. "I normally do, yeah, but I had to go back to the mainland to pick up this guy." With a genuine smile, he glances down to the ball of fluff that's now lying over his bare foot. "I stayed there while he got his first lot of vaccinations. You can pat him, if you want."

You can recognise that offer for what it really is; an olive branch. In other words, he's apparently not holding a grudge against you for being an asshole. You smile gratefully, crouching down to pat the tiny animal. "What's his name?"

"Yeontan," he answers cheerily. "he's nine weeks old!"

You coo, chuckling at the soft fur wriggling beneath your fingertips, at the wet nose prodding at your palm for more pats. "Yeontan..." you muse. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

You hear a sheepish laugh from above. "Your, um, your painting of the old barn in Icheon? There's a kennel that's beside it in shadow, but you can just make out the name Yeontan painted on the front. I-" He breaks off awkwardly, falling silent.

Your hand freezes, and you feel yourself slump from a crouch to sitting fully on the sand, still hot from the afternoon sun. Yeontan. A detail you couldn't even remember painting, yet he'd named his dog after it. The dog continues to cover your hands in slobber and stray fur, but you just stare at it blankly.

"I'm sorry," the man winces, tone low with defeat. "You probably think it's stupid. I swear I'm not one of those crazy obsessed fans! There was just..." His voice changes then, closes up to cut off any emotion. "I shouldn't say. Sorry."

Your shoulders slacken. "You don't have to keep apologising," you say softly. After a moment's thought, you push up off the sand to stand up again, grains clinging to the skin that's damp from the dog's affections. The handsome stranger's face is stricken, reluctant as he watches you get up. You miss the boxy smile he'd held when he made his way down the dunes. You wonder if he'll ever smile that way at you. "I wanna hear. What you have to say."

Hand flexing on the leash, he looks down at Yeontan and back up at you, eyes squinted slightly as the sun glares onto his face; a radiant, sharp orange. "One of the reasons I'm such a fan of your work is the emotion you can actually see on the canvas. I don't even know how to explain it, but I feel it. And with the Icheon barn painting - I actually saved up for years to buy the original - there's something so sad and lonely about that kennel, that patch of shadow. The rest of the scene is so bright and open, it feels like a party that the kennel wasn't invited to. I don't know, it's stupid. But I thought if I ever bought a dog, I'd name it Yeontan so that it wouldn't feel so alone." He faces the horizon as he speaks, wincing into the light, and a broken laugh bubbles out of his throat once he's done. "Like I said; it's stupid."

But you don't think it's stupid at all. "Did it work?" you ask instead, nose prickling as tears build behind your eyes. The more he spoke, the more you remember the painting. It was your last work before the Met Gala disaster, and after everything went down in flames, desperate online tabloids went back to it, citing it as a 'cry for help'. You hadn't really painted it like that though, not really. You'd seen that beautifully painted barn in the countryside when you were driving between cities to visit your parents, and was taken by the dilapidated dog kennel tucked just beside it. Painting it wasn't some sort of clue to your nosedive, but more like a solidarity with that kennel, the dog that once lived there. The story that had been forgotten. And to hear this man had seen it, had wanted to ease the suffering just like you had... The emotions inside you, ones that had felt so dull and monochrome, now churn inside you in indecipherable technicolour, too many to count. But you think one of them might just be hope. "Did- did getting Yeontan work?"

He's looking at you now. He stays silent for a moment, the softest smile tugging at your lips, and it takes your breath away, watching the colours of sunset play across his skin while his brown eyes seek yours out intensely. "Yeah, it did," he answers eventually, his voice almost a whisper. It's only once he starts speaking that you realise the two of you have moved closer inwards without realising, so that it would only take a half step forward to be pressed against him. "But I think talking with you has helped more."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. The whirlpool inside you settles, leaving you feeling lighter than you have in years. You don't know what it is about this man that makes you feel...sane again, but you want more of it. "I think talking with you has helped me too," you confess, voice lilting in uncertainty. "Can... can I see you again? I don't even know your name, but-"

"Taehyung," he answers immediately, and even with the fall of night, the sun well and truly gone, his eyes are bright. "I could come back tomorrow?"

Your toes flex in the sand fighting the urge to jump in relief. "Yes! Yes, I'd like that," you chime, a smile tugging at your lips. "It was nice to meet you, Taehyung."

"The pleasure is all mine."

--

You sleep well that night. You can’t remember the last time the peaceful rays of sun have woken you so gently, but you certainly aren’t complaining.

You’d spent the past week or so moping in your cabin until late afternoon and then moping on the beach. Only now, after finally meeting the boy again - Taehyung - you realise how much you’ve been wasting your time buried in your own thoughts. Now all you want to do is explore. You’d been told on the ferry over here that the island was only a few hours’ walk around the coastline, and that your cabin, a street of shops and a small village of houses were the only signs of life. No bar to drown your sorrows at. No club for finding faceless strangers to make you forget who you were for a few hours. All your coping vices had been replaced with open stretches of nature in all its colours; the cool grey rocky beaches on the southern shore, the lush greens of the hilly forests, the glinting turquoise of the sea, and open plains of pastel sky for miles and miles.

The walk isn’t particularly intensive, but it’s long, and your feet ache in their sandals by the time you reach the docks again, having marked a full loop around the island. The dock, empty this late in the morning, leads directly to the main street via a cobblestone path that weaves between dunes, flax bushes, fields and a skinny stretch of trees, and you follow it to the center of the island, resting in a small cafe.

There’s no free WiFi here, so you sip at a tall glass of homemade strawberry lemonade and watch the streets through the storefront window. From your seat, you can see the people wander back and forth, the odd few with kids, but almost all are retirement age. Slow-moving couples with walkers and canes, elderly men jangling the keys to their vintage cars (that surely didn’t have much road to drive on), women with age-spotted skin and heavy beaded jewellery.

You can’t work out how Taehyung fits in this picture. It’s almost impossible to picture him walking down the same street as everyone else; his dyed hair, clothes two sizes too big, tall and slender frame hurrying down with a dog leash in one hand and a grocery bag in the other-

Wait.

You straighten up, eyes widening as you watch the man himself pauses to let Yeontan cock his leg on a patch of grass by the intersection. Physically, he’s entirely incongruous with the rest of the villagers, but he looks entirely at home, glancing up to smile in recognition at every figure that passes by him. One goes so far as to reach up and ruffle his hair playfully as she talks, and his face brightens with crinkled eyes and a boxy grin, greeting her warmly.

The same feeling of longing and dissatisfaction stirs you from the other time you saw that smile. You want to be the one that makes him so happy. You frown, unconsciously chewing on the end of the paper straw. It’s too hot in here. There’s not enough ventilation, and with the sun streaming in, the heat just pools inside, sticking to your thighs and arms. That’s why you leave the cafe before finishing your drink. The heat.

The lady has left by the time you cross the street, and you fake a cough noisily as you pass him, eyes cast away but face turned so he’d easily recognise you.

“Y/n!” Your heart warms, keens at the calling of your name, and you turn to him, smiling broadly. Taehyung grins when Yeontan rushes over to greet you too, whole body rocking with the force of his tail wagging. “Fancy seeing you here,” he remarks, and you take in a deep breath of air, feeling lightheaded with his attention back on you.

“I decided to explore a bit,” you answer, eyes dropping down to the supermarket bag in his hands, white plastic taut and digging red lines into his palm with the weight of it. “Retail therapy?”

He laughs goodnaturedly, but there’s a flush of pink high on his cheekbones, standing out beside the strands of green that he’s tucked behind his ears. “It’s actually, uh, something for tonight. I didn’t know if you’d- If you still-” He breaks off his stammering with another laugh, this one more self-conscious, and the pink deepens to red. “I thought you and I could paint together. I bought us some materials just in case you didn’t bring your own.” You fall silent, mouth slack and parted in surprise, so he continues on, lifting up his hand for a moment, bag rustling, then changing his mind and letting it fall again. “There isn’t a proper art supplies store here, so it’s just from the toy store. I know you’re probably used to proper stuff, but a bad worker blames his tools, you know! Not that you would- that you’re a bad-”

“You paint?” you ask finally, ending his nervous rambling.

His whole body slackens a bit, like you’ve cut some tension from him, his head dipping down to break eye contact. “Um. I’m- learning,” he answers with an uncertain wobble to his voice.

You tilt your head to the side with an expectant smile. “That’s really cool. How long have you been studying?”

He swallows, looking up to send you a hesitant smile. “I, um, I studied the instructions on the back of a paint-by-numbers kit in the toy store. Just now.” His voice lifts at the end of each sentence like it’s a question, that same bargaining smile plastered on his face.

You let out a genuine laugh, the first one you’ve had in a while. In too long. “Is that so? I better bow down to the maestro then.”

“Hey!” he whines playfully, shoulders rocking forward like a toddler feeling sorry for himself. “I learnt everything I know so far just from your art. And did you hear that speech I gave you about The Barn at Icheon? That was pretty good, right? You have to admit, that was good.”

His hand, the one loosely holding Yeontan’s lead, reaches out to grasp gently just above your elbow as he speaks, rocking you slightly like he’s pleading for you to agree. You find a constant stream of laughter bubbling out of your throat as he does so, feeling so light in the sunny midday breeze. “Okay, okay, that was good,” you confess, “you get a point for that.”

Once your laughter subsides slowly, you find yourself looking up at him with a residual smile, the same of which is spread on his face, eyes glimmering with something fond. He waits for the air between you to fall silent, tongue slipping out just slightly to wet his lips as you hold his gaze. “Y/n,” he asks softly, your name like molten sugar on his tongue, thumb unconsciously rubbing at the sensitive skin in the crook of your arm, “will you paint with me?”

Though the thought of painting still sours inside your chest, with his skin on your skin and his smile just for you, you feel like you could do anything. There’s only one answer. “Yes, I’ll paint with you, Taehyung.”

--

Painting with Taehyung is less painting with Taehyung and more staring desolately into the middle distance as Taehyung decides to make the clouds purple, bottom lip sucked between his teeth in focus.

“Don’t overthink it,” he stresses for the millionth time, glancing over at your blank canvas, “I’m not judging you.”

But it’s not about him judging you. If it wasn’t for him, you don’t think a paintbrush would have ever found its way into your hands again, certainly not so soon. It’s just that- you feel an overwhelming burden, a historical pressure of all your mistakes before. If you put brush to canvas now and create a work of art, then was your complete mindblank for the Met Gala all for nothing? Though your therapist advised against it, you had rather become attached to the idea that you’d somehow gotten artistically injured somewhere, and that eventually you’d broken completely, irreparable. It made the constant white void easier. Your first death.

“Happy little accidents,” Taehyung says lightly, dipping heavily into orange and catching a dollop on his wide-leg jeans. Not noticing it, or not caring, he swipes the orange into the canvas in a wonky line down past the horizon line, forming the neck and body of what looks vaguely like a giraffe. “And, um, happy little- happy little trees. If you want we could turn around and face the forest?”

Though a glum cloud is settling in your stomach you flick him a soft smile. “So you watch Bob Ross too? I thought you said you learnt everything from me.”

Using the same brush, he scoops out some black, using a pinkie finger to mix the colours together inside the bristles, a murky brown. “Maybe just a little,” he admits, daubing rough patches onto the giraffe, half of them overlapping the edges of its body. There’s an endearing quality to his carefree worksmanship, and you can’t deny that his painting looks good, wonky lines and all. “But don’t worry, you’ll always be my first,” Taehyung adds, not looking at you but smirking all the same.

The double entendre isn’t missed on you, but still, as you sit on a picnic table right on the edge of the village, blank canvas in front of you, you can’t bring yourself to laugh at it. All you can see is the paint drying on the tip of Taehyung’s finger, the messy pots of basic acrylics, and the warm smile that doesn’t leave his face.

He’s having fun. How long has it been since painting has been fun for you? Annoyed, you grab the clear green plastic brush from the set, dipping it into black. Muscle memory tingles across your knuckles and down the muscles of your wrist, an instinct to hold the brush in a certain way, tap off the excess, but your frustration overrides it, and you take the paintladen brush and smear it directly across the center of the canvas, a gaping maw of glossy shadow that bulges on the lower edges, gravity pulling at the thick stripe. You go completely still once it’s done. Staring.

Taehyung looks over after a moment, watching you carefully. “Is everything alright? If you didn’t want to paint, we didn’t have to-”

“It’s terrible,” you interrupt, a frown marring your face. “I fucked it up.”

“You didn’t,” he chastises softly, pushing his canvas to the side and leaning over your shoulder. “It’s a promising start. Maybe the duck pond is black in your world.”

Your eyes slide lower, unfocused. “Maybe the whole ocean is black in my world,” you murmur.

He’s silent for a moment,  unsure what to say. “Then how will the fish see?” he asks in a light tone, bumping your shoulder gently with his, but you just let out a broken sob, tears spilling over your cheeks like they’d been triggered by his contact. Taehyung’s mouth opens in a rounded o, eyes wide, and as the dam breaks, you feel an arm find your back, rubbing soothingly, and long, warm fingers wrap around the hand that holds the brush limply, cradling it. “We can fix it, it’s okay,” he soothes in a kind whisper, “here; it’s that mailbox now, yeah? And behind it is the candy shop-” His voice cuts off while he guides your shaking hand to the green, mixing it with white in the plastic pottle to make a pale pastel. You feel the pressure of the brush in your hand shift as he moves the bristles over the canvas in a roughly rectangular shape, but you’re unseeing, crying tears that sting like turpentine into that black ocean behind your eyelids, letting him move you.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, you curled in his embrace as he quietly paints for you, commenting on each step of the process so you know what he’s doing, even with your eyes closed. At one point, your energy leaves you, and you collapse into him, pressing your cheek against the stable warmth of his chest, heartbeat audible through his thin t-shirt. He doesn’t complain, just adjusting his stance to better support you and resting his chin on your head.

“I’m sorry,” you blubber thickly at one point, tasting salt.

“You don’t have to be,” he assures, “just keep breathing. Look; let’s put some trees in, hm? One for you and one for me.”

You open your eyes with a sniffle, feeling your hand lower in his secure hold, and you twist around your head to watch him dip the filthy brush in a green which has already been tainted by white and red in places. Your eyes follow it up again, until he fearlessly swipes in the graceful branches of the fir trees which cover the highest points of the island. You look at the rest of the painting, and a disbelieving giggle bubbles out of you, a smile across your face despite everything.

Unlike the mental image you’d been plotting in your head with the narration, this square of canvas has a line of slightly leaning buildings stacked beside each other tightly, colours smearing on the borders. In the middle of the uneven grey strip of cement down the middle to mark out the road, two trees stand proud, mostly green but with bleeding patches of muddy purple and brown too. Entire drops of paint spatter and run, creating a chaotic but vivid daydream of the end of the street in front of you.

“A lot better in your head, wasn’t it?” Taehyung asks knowingly. You laugh again, the last few tears pressed out of the corners of your wet eyes. “It’s okay,” he replies easily, “it was better in my head too. But the one in our heads is boring, don’t you think? If I wanted to see the street in front of me exactly, I’d just look up. Or take a photo. But nobody can visit this place we’ve painted. It’s just here, brand new because of us. I think I like that more.”

You sit up, wiping your eyes with a tired smile. “There’s no way you learnt all that from me,” you deflect, voice still raw from crying. “But yeah. I think I like this one more too.”

“I’m glad,” he answers softly, letting go of your hand and removing his hand from your back at the same time. You suppress a shiver at the sudden absence of heat. “I’ll let this dry and hang it up right beside The Barn at Icheon.”

You laugh again, sniffing away the last dregs of self-pity. “You better not,” you warn playfully, “as semantically poignant as it is, it’s an awful paintjob.”

When Taehyung smiles, it’s bright and boxy. And it’s just for you.

--

Time passes, but not like in the real world. Out here on this island, you start counting the passage of time by how many occasions you’d met Taehyung. Then, once you’ve seen him too often to count, you let yourself lose track of time completely, remembering only the moments spent with him like vignettes on a fragile chain.

The two of you always meet in the town or on the beach, speaking about everything and nothing. One day, while waiting beside the blue metal mailbox for Yeontan to pee (though Taehyung still insisted it looked better black) you tell him of the time you accidentally turned all your clothes yellowy-green after accidentally putting an apron in the wash that had an opened sampler of chartruese in the pocket. On a rainy afternoon when you’d gotten caught in the downfall walking through the forest, Taehyung told you, while wringing out rainwater from his rumpled maroon sweater, that he was meant to be studying agricultural sciences on the mainland, but his grandmother was sick and so he bought a place nearby to care for her.

“One good thing about being on the island,” he’d chimed cheerily, dark teal and brown plastered to his cheeks and forehead, “is that property is super cheap here. My grandma paid half and I paid half, and now the one-bedroom I live in is all mine.”

“But isn’t that sad?” you’d questioned, feeling the ground turn to mud beneath your shoes. “Living on the island, I mean? You should be in a big city, partying with your friends, living life. This place is like one massive retirement village.”

Taehyung had just shrugged. “My grandma likes it. And I like living for someone else, you know? Makes me feel good.”

Long after you’d gone home, warming up by the radiator in your beachside bungalow, those words had stuck with you. You wonder if, with all this time he’s been spending with you, he’s starting to live for you, too. You wonder if maybe that’s a bad thing.

But still, time passes in this hazy, episodic way. Money continues to filter out of your bank account each week you stay, but you hadn’t worried about your finances for years now, enough successful exhibits from your productive days keeping a healthy sum.

Though he never pushes as much as last time at the picnic table, Taehyung keeps you creating. Backs of napkins, tourism pamphlets, the kids colouring sets at the local diner. No matter how scrawled or indecipherable, the soft-hearted boy compliments your work all the same, slipping the scraps into his pocket with a joking promise that he’s going to frame them. Somehow, every unthought, unplanned line of ink or lead or pigment that lights the page feels like one less needle buried deep inside your heart, one small salve to ease the burden. You don’t know if Taehyung knows it, but in all the ways that count he’s a better artist than you.

When he’s around you, the world is lusher, more vibrant. Your time alone is grey and muted; a dull beach, an empty bungalow. With him, you feel like the sky is bluer and the trees are greener. The bonfire you sit in front of now casts an intense orange glow on everything around it, including Taehyung’s hands as he deftly impales marshmallows onto a skewer.

It’s cooler at nighttime these days. At some point, you’d both exchanged sandals for sneakers, t-shirts for sweaters. Taehyung seems to fancy heavy cable knits and thick trousers even in mild weather, and you wonder if he’d still wear clothing typical of an elderly gentleman even if he was on the mainland in a modern city instead of around the older generation on the island.

Tonight, you’d tried and failed a traditional Korean barbecue over the open flame. While Taehyung had shoved his cut of pork right into the fire, ending up with a charred outside and raw inner, you’d diligently held yours above the flames, turning and turning until the muscles in your arm screamed and you had to give up and admit perhaps the meat from the local butcher was cut too thick, and that a bonfire was good for nothing more than toasted marshmallows.

“This is where it’s at, this is it,” the young man enthuses confidently, each skewer laden with four or five marshmallows, bunched together, “dessert for dinner. The way it should be.”

You’re content to sit back and let him work excitedly, wrapping the edges of the picnic blanket low over your shoulders and lap. Though Taehyung is always devastatingly handsome, he’s the most gorgeous like this: focused in his element and surrounded by all the colours and textures of nature, a painting come to life. The heat of the flames is curling his hair lightly, making teal ends flick at his temples and the nape of his neck. His hair was growing out steadily, but still he chose not to cut it, and you can’t deny the length suits him.

“There’s more brown than green now,” you mention softly. “Soon it’ll look like dip-dye.”

Taehyung glances back at you over his shoulder with a rougish grin, shuffling around so he faces you fully. “What; is this your way of saying it looks bad?”

“No,” you defend with a pout, reaching for the near-full packet of marshmallows. “I’m just curious if you’re gonna leave it like that.”

Taehyung hums like he doesn’t fully believe you, and he leans over to shove his hand in the packet at the same time that you’re rummaging for the soft sweets, your knuckles brushing together. You shiver at the contact. Somehow, that’s been the first time you’ve shared skin contact since that day at the picnic table. Wide-eyed, you wait til he’s grabbed a bunch and pull your own hand away, empty and white with powder.

“Sorry,” he adds reflexively, but you just shake your head. How are you supposed to tell him that you liked the feeling of his skin on yours? Taehyung pops a pink marshmallow into his left cheek, letting it bulge and slur his speech as he gives you a broad grin. “You could dye it for me! My hair, I mean. Pick a colour.”

Against your will, you smile back, cheeks puffing at the thought. “I have no idea how to dye hair, Tae.”

Something flickers in his eyes when you say that, or maybe it’s the dancing flames reflected in them. He chews quickly, swallowing with a jerk of his jaw, and licks the rest of the white powder off his lips. “I bet it’s a whole lot easier than painting a picture.”

You scoff, but there’s no bite to it. “Oh, so you didn’t want me to paint one of my works on your hair, then? Don’t fancy Jeju Dusk on your scalp?”

Taehyung grins at the name, recognising the title of one of your earlier paintings - one that had been relentlessly criticised for its blending of techniques, something that later became your signature. “That’s my second favorite piece, you know? I have a print of it at home, and I saw the original in the Leeum Museum last year.”

You remember the director of the Leeum fondly. In your beginning years, he’d fought for your works to be shown in some of the frequent exhibitions they held. Even though you’d barely made a name for yourself, and had only recently moved to Seoul, Director Kim Namjoon took you in like a mentee and gave you a job himself as his PA. The experience you’d gotten there, as well as that vital exposure, had kept you business-savvy throughout your career, and once you were in a position to give back, you donated almost all of your original canvases to the museum in his name. Maybe one day you’d return home to Seoul and tell Namjoon of the boy who lived on a faraway island, the boy who taught you to open up again. Would Taehyung still be with you then? Though it hasn’t been long, it’s hard to comprehend a life without Taehyung. All you can visualise is a great absence, a lack. You banish the thought from your mind with a shake of your head, glancing back up to see the boy himself boldly setting a skewer of marshmallows on fire in the orange heat. “I hope that’s your one,” you joke weakly as he puffs out the blue and orange that lick at the blackening lumps.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my favorite work is?” he asks instead, ignoring your statement.

You stay silent for a moment, observing the way he discards the charred skewer in his lap and delicately toasts the other one, swivelling the base so that each side of the marshmallow stack warms to a golden brown. Once he pulls it out, he hands it to you with an expectant quirk of his brow. You take the stick with a slightly suspicious smile. “What’s your favorite, Taehyung?”

“Your next one,” he answers immediately, gaze locked on yours.

You blame the heat radiating off the bonfire for the warmth in your cheeks as you suppress a smile. “Alright then,” you say decisively.

“Alright what?”

“Alright, I’ll dye your hair for you.”

He grins broadly, eyes crinkling into crescent moons as he starts eating his thoroughly-burnt marshmallows. “Tomorrow,” he announces, melted strings of pink and white pooling in the corner of his lips. “Let’s meet at the convenience store and you can pick the colour.”

You smirk at the way he devours the toasted marshmallows with childish glee. “You’ll regret that when you come out of this with highlighter orange hair.”

He chucks his leftover stick into the grocery bag you brought your supplies in, letting himself collapse backwards onto the heated sand. “I think I could pull it off,” he deflects calmly. “Just you see.”

Breath taken away by the peace on his face as he closes his eyes, your mind works dizzily, desperate to find something to keep him talking, to keep this moment between you alive. “Maybe you could get a job as air traffic control. Or a streetlight. Just you wait; it’ll be orange orange.”

Taehyung’s face warms in a lazy smile as he hums. He looks so peaceful lying there that you’re tempted to join him, but you choose instead to shuffle back from the fire so that you can see his face better. His hair’s splayed out over the sand, and you can see the warm flickers from the bonfire play over his neck, his jaw, and the tip of his nose. Taehyung’s right; orange does suit him. “I had a dream, you know. Last night.”

You feel - with the gentle breeze and the silence of the sea surrounding you - that perhaps you’re in a dream right now. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” his low voice hushes, barely louder than the popping of wood on the fire. “We weren’t on the island, we were in Seoul. Your wing of the Leeum Museum.”

You laugh shallowly, not wanting to make much noise for a reason you couldn’t quite pinprick. “I don’t have a wing at the Leeum.”

“You did in my dream,” he defends resolutely, the beginnings of a boxy smile tugging at his lips. “Anyway, we were in your wing, and I remember being so confused because I didn’t recognise any of them. But you told me they were all new. They were paintings of m-” he cuts himself off a beat too late, lips pressed together.

Your heart falters, a rush of adrenaline that flows to the ends of your fingers and toes. You fight to keeo your voice steady. “Maybe it was a premonition.”

Resting on his stomach, Taehyung’s hands twitch, his fingers twisting together. His smile flattens into a tense line and his eyelids squeeze shut tightly. “I don’t wanna get my hopes up,” he admits quietly after a short pause of thought.

Looking back, you can’t remember your thought process, or where your boldness comes from. Maybe something about the way the moment felt detached from reality, a timeless bubble of the two of you that sat adjacent to your real life, separate from consequence. Maybe it was the brief glimpse of pink as he wets the inner seam of his lips. Maybe you’ve just wanted this for too long to think rationally anymore.

Whatever it is, you swallow past the dryness in your mouth, bend down, and press a kiss to his lips.

Taehyung goes completely still at first. You’re cross-legged on the sand, knees faced to his side, and when you kiss him, it’s on enough of an angle that you feel his nose brushing your cheekbone, and you can feel your hair falling down either side of your face like silken rain. He stays still, though, and you press a little harder, just for a moment, before his lack of response shatters your streak of confidence.

With a minute sigh of regret, you lift off of him, ready to sit up again and apologise profoundly. But before there’s more than a few centimeters of air between you, his hand is suddenly snaking around the nape of your neck, fingers slipping up into your hair as he pulls you back down.

When you collide again with a gasp, his mouth is parted, and his teeth scrape against your bottom lip with his urgency. Losing your balance, you throw your outside arm over him, palm plunging into the sand just beside his head, and let your upper torso rest on his his.

“Taehyung,” you sigh onto his lips, shivering when his free hand rests hotly on your waist, thumb slipping under the hem of your shirt to rub maddenly over the sensitive skin of your stomach. “Oh, Taehyung.”

His lips are sticky with the remains of the toasted marshmallows, and tentatively you seek out that sweetness, kissing deeper, letting your tongue slide over the pinkened skin. He holds you so gently, like you’re made of glass, yet his mouth on yours is pure fire, and your breath comes in little gasps, bursts of oxygen that only fan the flames higher. It takes you a few moments to realise the humming in his throat and the motion of his lips are words, so softly spoken, but once you do you slow your movements to a languid stream to better hear them.

“...so beautiful, I’ve wanted to do this for so long, I must be dreaming…” He speaks with his eyes half-lidded, like he doesn’t want to fully lose sight of you, uttering words between sweet kisses, strong hands cradling you so carefully. He presses his lips against yours one last time and moves his hand from your neck to your face, thumbing tenderly at your cheekbone. “God, I’m so lucky to be by your side,” he gasps. “And when you paint new works and attend exhibits, I’ll still be by your side.”

His words are sweet, but something about them strikes an odd note in your chest, and you pull back slightly, shaking off his hands.

He looks at you with wide eyes and swollen lips which are parted in a confused pout. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s my paintings,” you whisper disbelievingly, “isn’t it? That’s why you think you like me. You like my paintings, and you think it’s somehow the same thing.”

He frowns, shuffling back to sit up, further apart from you than you’d been all night. “No,” he says automatically, “I like you, I just… I think you’re talented, and I want to help you-”

“It’s not your place to help me,” you snap back, and Taehyung flinches. “I’m not some- some out-of-order printer that just needs some TLC to start pumping out pages again. You’re a fan, Taehyung, not a fucking therapist.”

He lets those words sit in the air until they sour, staring at you with eyes shiny and lips trembling. “I know that,” he says, voice cracking, “I know that. I just- Just because you had issues with the Met Gala exhibit doesn’t mean you have to run away and hide, you know?”

Your mouth falls open. “I… I didn’t have issues with the Met Gala, okay, Taehyung? I blanked. Every time I tried to paint something for the exhibit, it sucked. I hated it. And then, eventually, I stopped being able to paint anything at all. It was like I just- I just couldn’t. And the Director kept calling, but I couldn’t answer him because I was so fucking humiliated, and you get the day of the Met and the walls are empty because Y/n L/n is a fucking failure. So it’s not- You can’t fix me, Taehyung. I’m just broken.”

The fire spits, crackles, as it smoulders down, nothing more than hot coals that barely light the surroundings. Taehyung, face slowly darkening to shadow, doesn’t say anything. Just sits. Waits.

You sniff, looking down at your hands. “My point is, Tae-” and you scoff at yourself for using a nickname at a time like this, “You shouldn’t like me. I have nothing to give you anymore.”

Sand sticks to your bare legs when you stand, but you make no attempt to brush it off. Though it’s nearly complete darkness, you see Taehyung’s hair shift as he tips his head up to watch you. Rather than speak back, he waits in the pitch black of the extinguished bonfire and lets you go.

Later, in the unforgiving silence of your bungalow, you find yourself gravitating not towards your bed but towards your suitcase, to the small wooden chest of travel paints you had brought never expecting to use.

It’s easier to paint than to think on your regrets and mistakes, and so you let your mind go black, your palette filling with shades of brown, ochre and beige, as well as a single swatch of teal.

--

The entire next day sees you in a sleep-deprived fervour, the entire main room of your bungalow cleared out and transformed into a makeshift studio, paintings drying on emptied bookshelves, sheets of old newspaper covering the carpet covered in stray spots of colour, the kitchen bench housing your mismatched array of paints and tools.

After finishing your first painting, you’d collapsed onto your bed as the sun began to rise, too exhausted to wash the dried paint off your hands and brow. But it only took a few moments of rest before you felt yourself sinking into a glum quicksand, sucked in by all the emotions swirling in your chest. Suffocated by the sole image of Taehyung, sitting alone on the sand in the dark as you walked away.

So, you’d gotten up, fed the itch in your hands and picked up a brush once more, and let yourself be taken by the mindless haze of work, of colours and angles and perspectives, starting to paint the knuckles on one canvas while you waited for the eyes to dry on another.

Just after 10am, your housekeeper had knocked on the door, and you’d had to play sick so that she wouldn’t come inside. If they kept your deposit or charged you damages for a stray lick of paint on some surface, what did it matter?

You threw yourself so intensely into these paintings, that weren’t art so much as sighs of relief, or buoys in a churning sea. It was all too easy to let your mind latch onto the task of mixing colours, of choosing techniques, of mastering proportions. Normally, you’d work in front of a landscape, or take a photo and paint it later, wanting to get things right, but Taehyung comes to mind with startling clarity.

Soon, your bungalow fills with artworks - some painted on newspaper, or pages of a book when you run out of canvases. Vistas of those moments with him like clustered vignettes: his eyes with orange glints reflected in them from that night with the bonfire; his hands wringing his sodden sweater the day you got caught in the rain; a boxy smile, the first time he ever grinned at you like that; and finally, just as your hands begin to shake too much to hold the brush steady, a lone silhouette walking down a dune, tiny dog tugging at the leash in his hand. The memories flow in reverse, like some sort of undoing, a wish to go back in time and do things right, to be better for him, to do right by him.

When you set the brush down one final time, fingers trembling with exhaustion, it’s nearly midnight. You realise with a dull pang that you’d forgotten to go down to the township to buy Taehyung hair dye. You realise he probably wouldn’t have come down either.

Your face is stiff in places where swipes of paint have dried, and your hair is tangled, thrown up a half-hearted ponytail that keeps threatening to slip, but as you stare around the chaos of the room, at the fevered paintings of him, only him, always him, your heart knows what to do. Whether you like it or not, you can’t go back in time and start new, start fresh. But you can go forward, and you know exactly where your feet will take you.

Well, maybe not exactly, because you’ve never been to Taehyung’s house. But shoving on some sneakers and wrappin yourself up in a jacket, you figure you can find it. The island’s population was barely fifty, and all the houses were in the same sleepy neighborhood behind the main street.

It’s after knocking on exactly twenty-six doors that you realise maybe you should just ask if the stranger knew Taehyung’s address, rather than leaving when somebody unfamiliar answered the door. Shivering, even with the thick padded jacket you’re bundled in, you decide that the next house better be the last. If they didn’t know where Tae was, you could just come back and pick up where you left off tomorrow.

The street is so silent that your sneaker soles on the gravel fill the void entirely, amplified in the chilled night air. As you went on, and the moon passed the center of the sky, less and less people even opened their doors, some that did scolding you for waking them at such an hour. You’d feel bad, only your mind’s entirely locked on one single person.

The next house you reach is small, like most of them, but looks particularly well-groomed compared to most. A gleaming white postbox with the number 13B rests beside the driveway and footpath, both of which are bordered by lush, freshly-mowed grass, almost black in the darkness. Like a beacon, a single lamplight shines white-yellow above the front door, and your eyes ache with the warm brightness as you knock.

After fifteen or so seconds, you hear muffled movement inside, and straighten your back expectantly, mentally running through your speech. A light turns on behind lacy curtains to the left, and eventually a blurred silhouette approaches in the foyer, unlocking the door.

You put on your most sympathetic smile and take in a breath when it cracks, revealing an older woman in mismatching winter pyjamas. “I’m so sorry to wake you, ma’am, but I was wondering if you knew a boy called-” As your eyes search the old woman’s face, you freeze. You know those eyes. “K-Kim Taehyung?” you finish, blinking widely at the woman who somehow looks so familiar.

Rather than grumble about the time or huff, she smiles broadly, lips tugging up in a boxy smile. “Well, of course, he’s my grandson!” The smile drops, brows furrowing in concern. “Is he alright?”

You suck in a breath through your teeth, eyes widening. “I- oh my goodness, I’ve heard so much about you,” you gush, her eyes crinkling fondly at your words. “Sorry, uh- yes, Taehyung is okay, I just-” You stop yourself, trying to steady your racing heart. “Mrs. Kim, you probably don’t even know me, but I did something bad and I need to make it right with him and I just… I think I’m in love with your grandson.” The moment you finish, something in your heart settles at the sound of the words lingering in the air.

She takes her time to reply, letting the words sink into her with a thoughtful sigh. “Darling, am I right in assuming your name is Y/n?”

You swallow quickly. “Yes, that’s right.”

She nods with a fond smile, a glimmer in her eye. “Then I think there’s something you should come see.”

“Inside?” After she waves you in and guides you to slip off your shoes and step into some house slippers instead, you find yourself awkwardly following her down a homely, perfumed hallway. “By the way, I’m so sorry for waking you.”

She waves it off before you even finish your sentence, sending you a kind wink. “No bother to me, lovie. I’m just glad you didn’t wake the dog.”

“The dog?” you mumble to yourself, before halting suddenly as Mrs. Kim pauses in front of a door, hand resting on the glass knob.

“My grandson’s been visiting me more lately, you see,” she explains, turning the knob to reveal a room in complete darkness, nothing inside visible. “He had so much to tell me and so much to do, became as hyper as a boy on Christmas morning! He told me not to go in here, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You step inside on her indication, breath caught in your throat as your eyes struggle to adjust. “I don’t understand…”

“Lovie, don’t worry about whatever went wrong with you two. You love him and… Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic, but it’s clear he loves you too.” And with that, she flicks the light on and the room comes into focus.

A barn. That’s the first thing you see. A painting of a bright, sprawling barn with a tiny dilapidated kennel in its shadow, wobbly letters spelling out YEONTAN. On the wall directly across from the door rests the original painting of The Barn at Icheon, close to a meter wide and half a metre high. The question of why he’d keep this prized possession of his in a random room barely bigger than a closet dies on your tongue as you turn, seeing the other walls.

A sketch of a bird you’d seen and wanted to show him, clumsily sketched on the back of a receipt with a pen from the lady at the grocery store checkout; a smudged map of your old neighborhood in Seoul that he’d made you draw on a napkin when you were explaining to him how far away the art supply store was; a tourism pamphlet that you and Taehyung had found on a park bench, drawing little Bigfoot silhouettes on the pictures of mountains and mermaids on the beaches. Every one of these thoughtless scrawls, careless scribbles and hurried drawings are here, each one framed or mounted like in a gallery, in order of the time they were made. You turn around slowly, barely noticing Taehyung’s grandmother in the doorway, giving you a knowing look. Finally, on the last wall, the trail of pieces disappear with a final creation, a canvas.

Feeling tears gather in your eyes, you look at the black smear of a mailbox, the wonky shops, the two tall trees incongruously planted in the middle of the street. And, in the bottom right corner painted meticulously in teal, the same teal as his hair, Y/n and Taehyung.

You let out a sob, turning back to Mrs. Kim. “Thank you for showing me this,” you make out in a voice thickened with tears, “but I really need to see him. Can you please give me his address?”

With a look of warm empathy, she steps forward to clasp your shoulders gently, maternally. “He told me about what happened, luvie. He doesn’t blame you.”

Trembling, you wipe the wetness from your cheeks and sniff. “He should,” you admit sullenly, “he’s too good for me. He’s been nothing but kind and patient and caring and all I’ve done is let him down.” Something occurs to you, and you frown in confusion. “Wait… Did he stop by and tell you?”

Her hands squeeze your upper arms comfortingly before dropping them and stepping back. “Oh honey,” she coos, and your heart stops as she steps aside out of the doorway, letting another, taller figure enter the room.

“Taehyung,” you whisper in shock, but before you can even comprehend his presence, his arms are around you, pulling you against his chest in a tight hug. You feel thick layers of pressure and worry evaporate off of you with a single moment, lungs filling with the familiar scent of him, body relaxing with his chin resting on your head and his arms cradling you. For what feels like a small eternity, you let yourself be fully enveloped in him, an indescribable catharsis of finally being in his arms once more. As your tears dry on the soft flanelette of his pyjama shirt and your fingers clutch at his back, you feel a thought transform into a certainty. “I love you, Taehyung,” you confess quietly, and his whole body shudders with a sob, arms tightening around you even more.

“I love you so much,” he confesses lowly, chest rumbling against your ear as he speaks. “And please don’t ever call yourself broken. You’re not. I didn’t love the art, I loved you. Because the art is a part of you Y/n, whether it’s perfect or not.”

“Tae,” you breathe shakily, his name the only word on your lips.

A soft voice comes from the hallway, Taehyung’s grandmother quietly excusing herself to “leave the two lovebirds alone.” You barely notice, lost in the way Taehyung gently rocks you back and forth in his arms, soothing you.

“I missed you,” you hear Taehyung whisper into your hair, nuzzling his nose gently.

Though you shiver at the feeling, you let out a teary laugh. “I saw you a day ago.”

“But it wasn’t the same then,” he insists softly, and a slow breath escapes you weakly. “It’s okay; you’re here now. You-” he breaks off to swallow, and when he speaks again his voice is much quieter, paper thin. “You won’t walk away again, will you?”

You answer by tipping your head up to look him in the eyes warmly, rising onto the tips of your toes so that you can reach his mouth, pressing a kiss against it tenderly. “Never,” you answer surely, “I promise.”

When he smiles, it’s beautiful - that big, boxy grin you saw that day on the dunes, that day you agreed to paint with him, and so many times since. But it never fails to make you melt, lips automatically returning the gesture. “Now,” he announces with a bemused lilt in his voice. “As much as I love this makeout session in my grandma’s closet, it is 2am. Shall we go get some rest?”

Sleep comes quickly once you have Taehyung’s arm around you and your face in the crook of his neck, and you let it take you, knowing you’ll have time to savor the feeling of sleeping beside him for many days to come.

--

You take him home the next day.

He hadn’t ever been to the bungalow before, but now there was something you desperately wanted him to see. You hadn’t cleaned up before you’d suddenly began roaming the streets of the island, and as he stares around at the chaos, you kind of wish you had. “It’s pretty messy, but…”

“No,” he deflects, mouth parted and eyes wide in wonder, “don’t apologise, this is- wow.” He steps further into the room, stepping over discarded paint tubes, dried canvases and uncleaned brushes. He takes a moment to take in each work. Every single one of them a snapshot of him. “How- When did you do all this?”

You bite your lip, loitering in the entryway. “From when I got back that night until I decided to come looking for you.”

He furrows his brow, fingers gently skimming the top edge of the painting that rests on the easel in the center of the room, the first one you’d painted. His teal growouts, his uneven eyes, the moles dotted so intricately on his face. Your Tae. “You haven’t been able to pick up a brush in months, and then...all this?”

“This was easy,” you say with a shake of your head, “it was easy because it was you.”

He turns, then, glancing at you over his shoulder with eyes brimming with affection. “You really love me.”

A disbelieving grin stretches across your lips. “The midnight confession didn’t make it clear enough?”

“It’s not that, I- I can read it,” he explains, stepping back over to you. “The Barn at Icheon is filled with loneliness, and a lot of your other works talk about fear or curiosity or patience. But this is all love. And it’s me.”

“It’s you,” you confirm with a soft smile, “I love you, Taehyung. So much.”

His eyes light up, then, a cheeky glimmer as his hand reaches out, gripping your elbow and giving it a playful shake. “If I’m your mojo then, you should paint something else today,” he bargains, “I wanna see your genius in action. The black mailbox sadly doesn’t qualify.”

Your mouth drops open in mock outrage, shoving his chest with a whine. “That’s not fair! You said you liked it better black.” Looking around at the disaster zone of the bungalow, you sigh. “I also don’t think I have any paintable surfaces left. I missed the housekeeper so I’ll probably get a fine as it is.”

“Use me, then.”

“Haven’t I painted you enough?” you fire back, but Taehyung just shakes his head emphatically.

“Paint on me. Here,” he says, and his hands leave yours in order to find the hem of his shirt, peeling his shirt off and tossing it into a far end of the room. “A big old waterfall, right down the middle. Rock pool at the bottom.”

“Stop it!” You blush fiercely, hands coming up to cover your cheeks as your eyes feast on his chest, the smooth planes and taut skin, a beautiful golden bronze. “Taehyung…”

For the first time, he doesn't press further. Instead, his shoulders sag, teasing facade slipping. "I'm sorry, you don't have to. I'll stop."

Inexplicably, you find yourself wanting to prove you aren't fragile anymore, unbroken just as he'd insisted you were last night. "I can do it," you protest, stepping away from him to fossick for some usable brushes. "Lie down, then."

Taehyung freezes. "Uh. Yeah, yeah, okay, gimme one sec, I'll just-" With the enthusiasm of a boy having his first kiss, Taehyung hunkers down on the newspaper-covered carpet, shuffling some tools and tubes and palettes out of the way. He looks beautiful like that, chest rising and falling shakily with anticipation, warm brown eyes widened on you. "You don't have to paint a waterfall, you know," he assures hurriedly. "Whatever you do will be perfect."

Heart leaping at his words, you feel a streak of confidence deep inside you, and instead of sitting beside him, you straddle his hips with a newly-filled palette in one hand and a brush in the other. "I want you to guess," you announce from above him, eying his chest and wondering how the colours might fill the space. "Guess what I'm painting. It'll be fun!"

Taehyung's throat bobs with a harsh swallow, nodding quickly. "O-okay, yeah, let's do that," he agrees weakly.

You smile warmly, and begin dipping into a forest green, coating the tips of the bristles. Bending down, you mark a single point of green on the top of his chest, just below his collarbone. The moment the cool paint touches his skin, Taehyung shudders, eyes falling shut. "Okay?" you check. He nods again, chest heaving, and so you continue tracking colour, gradual swoops downwards. Each drag of the brush makes Taehyung's breath catch, and you watch as goosebumps break out on his bare arms.

"Feels nice," he mumbles, lips barely moving like he didn't even intend to speak.

Your lip twitches, but still you focus, topping up the brush whenever the lines became too spotty. After trailing down to just above the level of his belly button, you raise the brush again, starting a new form on the other side of his chest, this one smaller. "Any idea what it is?" you question, but Taehyung just sighs airily.

Once you're finished with the forest green, you wipe your brush off on the edge of your palette and go for a deeper shade, pressing in shadows under each swipe of green. It's once you're working on the bottom half of the second structure that you begin to feel a hardness between your legs, the point where you're straddling him. Shocked, you look up, but Taehyung's covered his eyes with the back of his hand, face turned to the side with reddened cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he croaks out once he feels you stop. "Didn't mean to."

With a fond smile, you lean down, careful not to smudge the wet paint, and gently kiss the corner of his mouth. His fingers twitch and his lips part in surprise, but he otherwise stays still. "It's okay," you soothe, "if it's any consolation, I feel the same way right now."

Like a switch is flipped, Taehyung lifts his hand and tucks his chin, looking down at where the two of you are pressed together, then back up at your face. "Seriously?"

You laugh warmly. "Taehyung, I love you and you're currently lying beneath me, half-naked, writhing every time the brush touches you. Of course I'm turned on."

His cheeks flush hotter and he bites his lip. "You can- you can keep going. Keep painting."

Obediently continuing to fill in the shadow across his stomach, you grin. "Still no guesses on what I'm painting? I'm almost done, you know."

He cranes his neck down further, but the angle prevents him from seeing much. "Some-something green? I'll be honest with you, my focus really isn't-fuck!"

You suppress a laugh as he shudders, hands reaching out to clutch at your pants. Having finished the shadow, you'd mixed a paler green to add some light points on the tops, and one of those swipes had just happened to land across the top of one of his nipples, already stiff from arousal. You continue dipping colour here and there, smirking at the paint that covers the dark brown of his right nipple.

"You tease," Taehyung complains with furrowed brows. "Fuck, that felt good. Please tell me you need to paint the other one too."

You hum in mock thought, transferring your brush to the hand with the palette so that you can reach out, swiping a thumb over the sensitive flesh. Taehyung's whole body jerks, his hips beginning to grind under you, the dull friction pulling a pleasured sigh from your lips that's blessedly drowned by his drawn-out moan. "Why the pout, Tae? This was your idea."

"Next time I'm holding the paintbrush," he promises, hips moving slowly beneath you, eyes lidded as they focus on you, "then you won't be so cocky."

His words send a hot rush of arousal through you, and you rock your hips unconsciously, swallowing a moan. "Next time," you repeat breathily, "but for now I'm almost done."

It only takes a few more touches of pale green, followed by two vertical strokes of brown, before you're putting your tools aside, and standing up off of him.

Taehyung groans in complaint when your hips leave him, his casual grey sweatpants tented and a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Where are you going?"

"Come see," you guide, tugging at his hand. "I have a mirror in my room."

He gets up, palming himself with a pout before following you down the hall, pulled along by your interlocked hands. Once in front of the mirror, Taehyung lifts his eyebrows at just how wrecked he looks. Bottom lip swollen from biting at it, hair mussed and sticking up, and a burst of green slowly drying on his torso. "It's...trees?"

"It's us," you explain softly, "like that painting we did together the first time." From beside him, you reach around to gently tap each figure, two tall fir trees, the one on his right taller than the one on his left. "One for you and one for me."

Before you can pull your arm back, his hand comes up to flatten yours against his chest, hands going cold where the paint is still wet in places.

"Tae, you'll smudge it."

"Y/n," he said slowly, head turning to look at you, eyes brimming with affection, "will you let me make love to you?"

Your breath catches, and rather than trusting your voice, you nod wordlessly.

With a deep exhale, he bends down and joins your lips with his, a hand coming up to bury itself in your hair, keeping you close. His lips are hot against yours, passionate and wanting, and your stomach warms with desire. Clumsily, your fingers find the hem of your shirt, lifting it as far as you can before you have to break apart from him, flinging it away once it clears your head.

"The bed?" Taehyung pants in the moments his mouth is free, and you nod, shucking off your jeans before getting onto the mattress in just your bra and panties. "God, you're beautiful," he chants, "how did I get so lucky?"

He slips out of his sweatpants and joins you sitting on the edge, but your eyes linger on his face, the way his eyes soften and crinkle when they meet yours. "I'm the lucky one," you reply simply.

You shiver when a large palm runs up your bare thigh, warm and grounding. "Can I go down on your first?" he asks with a pleading gaze.

You laugh weakly. "I'm definitely the lucky one." In confirmation, you lie yourself back, scooting so your head rests on the pillows.

Hand now having slid down your leg to rest over your ankle, he wraps his fingers around and lifts it off the bed delicately, your knee crooking and legs parting. Smoothly, he slips himself in the gap, lying on his stomach and letting your raised leg rest on his shoulders. With eyes heavy on you, he leans forward slowly and licks a strip over your clothed pussy, a dull kiss of friction across your clit. You groan, head lolling back, and he takes it as his initiative to continue, sucking at the juices that have dampened your panties until the whole crotch is wet, your thighs shaking slightly with your increased sensitivity.

"Tae, please," you breath out, "I wan' more."

A finger slips below the hem of your panties, just over your hipbone. "Should we take these off?" You nod with a needy whimper, lifting your hips to give him easier access.

He sits up to slide them down your legs, calmly spreading your thighs again when you get the self-conscious urge to close them. With only your bra on, you feel so vulnerable, but rather than scaring you, you feel at peace, so happy to be having this moment with Taehyung.

When he shuffles back into place again, he takes his time, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs. At your needy wiggle of your hips, he chuckles and rubs soothingly at the top of your leg where it's crooked over his shoulder, finally dipping his head again to lick at you.

He starts out maddeningly light, the very tip of his tongue flicking slowly over your clit, tentatively venturing out to dip between your folds. You reach out for his hand, needing something to anchor you, and he smiles against you as he interlocks your fingers, keeping you grounded.

"So good, Tae," you encourage, moaning openly when his tongue trails lower and dips between your folds, over your entrance. "Fuck, so good."

Rather than answer verbally, Taehyung doubles his efforts and begins to speed up, lapping at your core and suckling your clit.

Every breath is a moan or a whimper, overtaken by pleasure, but you let yourself drown in it, letting Taehyung eat you out like a man starved. With one hand on your upper thigh and one entwined with yours, he's got no fingers free to play with you, but expertly he brings you to your peak with just his tongue, thrusting it inside you as his nose nudges at your clit.

When you feel your orgasm quickly approaching, your moans heighten and your back begins to arch, hips grinding against him desperately. Taehyung chuckles, the sound vibrating against you and making you shudder, and his hand slips high to press against your waist instead, holding you in place for him. Your thighs tense around him, praises and curses and his name spilling from your lips incoherently.

It's one last nibble at your clit, pulling it into his mouth and dragging his tongue over it, your vision whites out with the force of your orgasm, jerking beneath him and crying out wantonly, overcome with pleasure. He works you through it diligently, groaning as you come down from your high with weak shivers, his tongue never ceasing until you push at his head from oversensitivity.

He lets your leg down carefully, kissing his way up your bare stomach, the swells of your breasts and your throat until his lips are on yours and you can taste yourself on him, feel the ends of his hair tickling against your cheeks.

"That was incredible, Tae," you pant out, feeling boneless beneath him as he takes charge of the kiss, tugging at your lips and licking into your mouth. "I need you," he gasps, and you moan throatily when his clothed crotch grinds against your bare core, the fabric of his underwear catching on your sensitive clit. He's hard, probably painfully so, and all you want is to feel him inside you.

Desperate, your fingers slip behind you, arching your back so that you can deftly release the clasp of your bra, pulling it off hastily before reaching for his underwear. "I need you too, Tae," you plea, "please hurry."

His fingers, slightly cool from the air, slide down your stomach and between your thighs, making you jump as he slips two inside, thrusting them slowly. You're still sensitive, and his mouth falls to your ear, hushing you and pressing encouraging kisses to your temple as you whimper. "Doing so well for me," he praises, "just gotta make sure you're ready, okay?"

"O-okay," you make out, sucking in a breath when he pulls out and presses a third finger inside you, picking up his pace. Gradually, the prickling overstimulation warms into pleasure again, and you rock your hips to seek more friction, free hand coming up to wrap around his neck and shoulders, holding him close.

With no bra on, your full chest is flat against his, and as the paint dries it drags over your nipples, making you arch your back, seeking out the friction.

The warmth between your legs tightens with the extra stimulation, and your breath begins to catch, feeling another orgasm oncoming.

"Close?" Taehyung murmurs in your ear as he widens the gaps between his fingers inside you, scissoring to stretch you even more. You nod hastily, moans getting stuck in your throat, pushed out with every gasped breath. Taehyung hums in response, and you whimper when you feel his fingers slipping out of you completely. Before you can protest, the blunt head of his cock slips between your sopping folds, Taehyung running it up and down to coat himself in your slick.

"Fuck, yes, please Tae, I'm ready," you babble, legs lifting to wrap around his hips, attempting to pull him in closer.

He chuckles, but it's cut off prematurely by a hissed breath of pleasure as he lines up and begins to sink his length into you, a delicious feeling of fullness after his fingers left you so empty. Taehyung enters you slowly, letting you adjust, and you feel completely enveloped by him; his voice in your ear, his hand in yours, his cock inside you.

"Need you, Tae," you whine once he stills, bottomed out, "please move."

"Are you ready?" You wiggle your hips with a groaned yes, arm tightening around him as he pulls back. He stops when just his head still rests inside you, pauses for a moment with a moan as you clench around him, and then plunges back in with one slick thrust.

You cry out, satisfied smile stretching tiredly across your face as he finally begins a steady rhythm, favoring deeper thrusts that make your toes curl. "Yes, Tae, so good!"

"God, you're still so tight," he groans throatily, "so good for me."

On the edge before, you find yourself close after only a few minutes, and you tell him with a shaky breath. Taehyung lets out a relieved exhale as he continues to thrust into you. "Thank fuck," he huffs out, panting a word at a time, "I'm not gonna last, you drive me crazy."

You press your head against his, nuzzling at it as you unwrap your arm from around his shoulders, instead seeking out your clit for the needed friction to push you over the edge. The added stimulation has you clenching, and Taehyung swears desperately, his pace picking up but shuddering as he gets close.

The two of you pant loudly into the otherwise silent room, filling each others' ears with whimpered moans and slurred praises, until you finally catch the tip of your peak, and with one final drag of his cock inside you, you're falling apart, not suddenly and violently like the first time, but rather a slow, hot wave of pleasure that works its way out from your core, down to your toes and fingertips, clenching tightly around Taehyung until he curses and spills inside you, shuddering through his release.

"I love you so much," you whisper once you come down from your high, a contented exhaustion seeping into your bones.

"I love you too," Taehyung says with a final press of his lips on your temple.

---

"This one's gorgeous. I love the broad lines on the ocean compared to the texture of rocks on the shore. This is at the island, you say?"

You hum in confirmation, smiling at your old friend. "You should see, it, Joonie. There's this little cluster of houses and shops right in the middle but the rest is just open nature. Forests, beaches, everything in the middle. I go there every year."

Kim Namjoon, Director at the Leeum Museum in Seoul and avid nature buff, takes one last look at the landscape canvas and grins. "Ah, twist my arm..." You follow him as he moves down the line of mounted canvases, stopping at a familiar portrait. He furrows his brows and cocks his head. "I feel like I've seen this guy before, something about the face... He didn't have green in his hair though, I must be confused."

You laugh at your friend, spying a shock of red through the swathes of people. "You have seen him before," you explain, catching the figure's eye, "you would have seen him here tonight."

In front of you, Namjoon raises his brows. "Oh, really? Who is he, then?"

Over Namjoon's shoulder, you watch Taehyung approach, turning heads with his scarlet dye. He gives you a wink, and you grin back. "He's my husband."

[pear-pies]

Placebo in Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

Words by Jerome Soligny, photos by Carole Epinette

Wonky translation under the cut:

These three did it all. Shot with the QOTSAs and posed with Indo. They survived "Velvet Goldmine" and the Top Bab. They come back after the ordeal of the fourth album. Danger interview: “Jerome, what if you came out?” They ask our charming reporter.

"We do not regret anything"

Everything begins again with "Bulletproof Cupid", a punky instrument that pulls everything off. Then "English Summer Rein", mechanico-depressive spinning punctuated by twisted keyboards, and "Sleeping With Ghosts", the lament which advances while blistering during cooking, confirm the tone. Against all expectations, because you never know how will age the groups that the previous album installed at the Top, Placebo took over. And stuffed it in an iron glove. Further on, "The Bitter End" tumbles through yapping guitars which would stick to the hatches the thickest of the sailors. Be careful, Placebo is on the way out of being one. At the end of the record, Brian Molko, Stefan Olsdal and Steve Hewitt do not even run out of steam. The cows. They drop a "Centerfolds" which frolic like a cynical top under a shower of saving doubts. What augur still other perspectives.

The fourth album: a horror for all who have faced it. Often a stupid trap. Returning from the Gothic directly inherited from the glam of pageantry and from these hasty and harmful certainties which congest the face and the veins, Placebo publishes its first real great disc. Oh, not the marvel of wonders, not the album from the third millennium, but something very strong, compact, tenacious in listening, which proves that the future is indeed there, in front, where the light is most blinding. Calfeucée in their Parisian hotel (the Costes, of course), our three lads do not make the blow of the revelation, of the luminous questioning. Simply, they now think with their heads, a good plan most often Likewise, reality no longer frightens them, and it is probably she who is hiding behind this "Sleeping With Ghosts" which relates the sorrows only for the better. melt into hopes At the moment when rock brings us back to life and when we just want to ask them everything, the Placebo have decided to say everything. Not even in a hurry, they settle down on the couch, ready to talk like never before. Despite new batteries embedded in the carcass, the Panasonic barely a Brian Molko: Hey Jerome, you came to talk to us this time when you had not come to the previous album ...

Rock & Folk: Uh yes but I was there for the first two, that says a lot, right?

Brian Molko: Certainly, I also believe that over time, we finally appreciate the true nature of the problem: we were mainly criticized for the sound of the previous album, which I can understand but, paradoxically, it is the one that brought us to the Top.

R&F: Legitimately, we have the right to expect a lot from the people we love: while "Black Market Music" sounded a bit like a sequel, this new record is all about a renaissance.

Brian Molko: Actually, we were finally able to live a little. After having existed in a small bubble for a very long time, we forced ourselves to take an eight-month break. The album-tour rhythm put us on the sidelines: we no longer had normal contact with anything. We were losing ourselves. We have fully lived the old cliché which claims that we spend the first years of our life writing a first record and six months on the second. It turned out to be very true. We had to get back to the situation of the first album, see friends, go shopping, look at the buildings in our city.

R&F: So the freshness would come from there ...

Brian Molko: Yes, and it was essential spiritually, emotionally and physically.

Steve Hewitt: We had to be in tune with reality again.

Brian Molko: In fact, we find ourselves in a bit of the same state of mind as when we released "Without You I'm Nothing", although "Sleeping With Ghosts" is a lot less gloomy. The heroin has since stopped leaking. In fact, I feel like I've pulled myself out of what I consider my second teenage years, between twenty and thirty. I conquered the self-destruction, exorcised some demons, understood what had happened to me. I held on to what I had learned. As a human being, I am now able to continue living, to try to answer the big questions posed by existence.

R&F: Maybe that's why the melodies are needed this time. It took me four records to get a favorite Placebo track.

The whole group in chorus: Which one?

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want", of course ...

Brian Molko: The most paradoxical is that this song dates from the end of the "Black Market Music" sessions. I was not married at the time, but I was trying to get out of a particularly vicious divorce.just started. Then we wait for the lyrics, which don't arrive, it's rather intriguing. We especially wanted to avoid the big Rican producer side, we needed someone who shakes us up a bit. Jim could do that because he comes from dance and his pedigree is impressive. We have all his records at home, Bjôrk, Massive Attack, Sneaker Pimps and especially DJ Shadow. It is believed that guitar rock can only evolve by incorporating new genres, this is the only way to remain a modern rock band. At home, we practically only listen to hip hop.

R&F: Still, he didn't betray you.

Brian Molko: No because he actually brought out our rock side, which I'm particularly proud of. In fact, because we always wanted to control everything, it was not easy to be forced, to do certain things backwards, to walk on the head. But in truth, that's what we wanted: yes, there was some tension in the studio but we all took advantage of it. The challenge is necessary and it is also valid for the public. We opened up and rediscovered ourselves.

Stefan Olsdal (emerging from his chair): We found ourselves in front of the mirror, at the foot of the wall: someone had to kick our ass.

Brian Molko: Jim was like, "Why are you doing this?" We would answer him: "Because we always do it like that!" He would say: "All the more reason not to do it."

Stefan Olsdal: On the first day, he messed up all the demos, changed the tones, the tempos ...

R&F: Like Brian Eno ...

Steve Hewitt: Yeah, but with a lot more compassion. Eno is a bit (silence) ... We don't really like being told our actions, but at the same time, we are still young, still absorbing. Jim knew how to preserve us while making a modern sound.

R&F: Modern and rock'n'roll at the same time, a characteristic which does not necessarily apply to all the young groups in The which recycle the past gently but are convinced to have found the virus of the AIDS.

Steve Hewitt: Placebo doesn't belong to any current, has nothing to do with fashion.

R&F: You always pose as outsiders.

Brian Molko: It's the only way to survive.

Steve Hewitt: These bands, like The Strokes, play the nostalgia card.

Stefan Olsdal: And what happens next? I would not like to be in their place.

Brian Molko: If you want good New York pop, you better listen to Blondie.

R&F: In 2003, 11 seems that you have abandoned all the androgynous paraphernalia, sexual ambiguity, glam references ...

Brian Molko: I think today everyone knows what there is to know. Our sexual inclinations haven't changed, and we still wear makeup. It is just more expensive and better applied. We are ourselves, in our music and in private. I went through my travelo period (in French in the interview - Editor's note), and I understood that being androgynous was not wearing skirts. It is a way of being on the spiritual plane. It is not an image but a state of mind.

Steve Hewitt: It's like being punk, it's an attitude.

Brian Molko: At the same time, I don't regret any of my eccentricities. I grew up in the spotlight and it all kind of makes me smile.

Stefan Olsdal: People still talk to us about certain outfits or positions, as if it still shocks them.

R&F: Yes, and particularly in France, a particularly homophobic country which bumps heartily on gay artists.

Brian Molko: And you, coincidentally, you still hang out with.

Stefan Olsdal: Jérôme, it's coming out time (laughs) ...

Brian Molko: All that has to change, that all of France becomes gay (laughs)!

R&F: "Protect Me From What I Want" precisely, here is a title heavy with meaning. What was the idea behind this song?

Brian Molko: For me, it's a study of the pathological need people have to copulate, the search for meaning in copulation. As if bachelors or monogamists were aliens. As if we were only one when we were two. The song is about the fact that one relationship has destroyed me but I can't help but look for another ... why do I keep coming back to this?

R&F: Wow, we're bathing in philosophy here!

Brian Molko: Yes and it's the same elsewhere in the record: in "Plasticine", I insist on the fact that you have to be yourself above all while asking myself all these questions. Why do we have to do a lot of forbidden things, bad or harmful?

R&F: It's therapy in public.

Brian Molko: At least I find some balance in it. These are not songs about compassion or self-pity. They came out like this because it was vital for me. I am in this privileged situation where I can express myself and the world hears me. Otherwise, I would be really frustrated and I would have suffered a lot more in the last fifteen years.

R&F: Music saved your life.

Brian Molko: Sure.

Steve Hewitt: Everyone: I think we can say that. Without Placebo, we would not be not even alive.

Brian Molko: Spitting it all out is not necessarily the right solution. There are things with which to live. In fact, I've always been afraid to go see a psychiatrist ...

R&F: Yet, listening to you speak earlier, you could have the feeling that Jim Abiss acted a bit like a shrink with you.

Brian Molko: That's right. You could say that.

R&F: At a time when Bush and Blair want to play World War III, what attitude do you adopt? What do you think of these Englishmen who left for Iraq to constitute a human shield?

Brian Molko: Let's say we stand together. We participated in the March for Peace on February 14th with Damon Albarn and 3D from Massive Attack. We were also surprised that so few groups mobilized, which increased our desire to participate tenfold.

R&F: Do you consider that it is the role of the artist to give voice in such circumstances?

Steve Hewitt: Yes, in the sense that we can help with general motivation.

Brian Molko: I'm very interested in seeing if Blair is going to let Bush bomb Iraq with the British present on the soil of the country. If he ever allows that, the consequences will be dire.

R&F: It will only be one more religious war, in the name of oil and money ...

Brian Molko: It seems absurd that we can still fight for that. And curiously, nobody speaks more, or almost, of Bin Laden. Wouldn't it all come from him, by chance, as a huge consequence of September 11? On the other hand, we have such a feeling that Bush wants to finish the job that daddy started. Its image is so bad that it needs at least one war to restore its image.

Steve Hewitt: And reinvigorate its dying economy.

R&F: The method is lamentable, deceitful. Like those employed by the recording industry which claims to be doing well by selling pop in damaged boxes to ignoramuses.

Brian Molko: The ability of this job to ingest people, bribe them and then spit them out is impressive. This is what happened here at Canal +.R&F: Business is the beast.

Brian Molko: All these pre-made artists are young and naff ...

Steve Hewitt: They'll all end up in a labor camp for ex-pop stars.

R&F: Warhol was talking about fifteen minute glory, we're brutally passed to fifteen seconds.

Brian Molko: We should have called them Karaoke idols from the start.

Steve Hewitt: And it only works because of the TV ...

R&F: Who washes the poor, helpless brains.

Steve Hewitt: You can tell how much people want to think less

R&F: And spend less. For many, music should be free: one in five thirteen-year-olds doesn't know that a disc doesn't have to be a computer-burnt puck. Some are flabbergasted when they see a cover for the first time.

Stefan Olsdal: And those who don't buy records put pressure on those who have them to pass them on at all costs, just long enough to copy them.

R&F: Exactly.

Brian Molko: That's why we blame Robbie Williams so much. Scooping 80 million pounds off EMI and then declaring that pirating music is a fantastic thing just makes him want to stick a chunk in his face.

R&F .: And then piracy is not a matter of environment. It's not a suburban thing. There are rich kids who find it normal to burn 80 CDs during their weekend and sometimes sell them to their friends ...

Brian Molko: What do these people believe? That we are there, the face in the stream with a syringe stuck in the arm singing "La Vie En Rose"? And who will pay for our children's school? Not them, anyway. Our mentality is quite different: we always want to buy records from people we love, from our friends. Personally, we are partly out of the woods, but it will be particularly difficult for new groups to make a living from music in five or ten years.

R&F: Come on, we're not going to leave each other on this, a little humor won't hurt anyone. If you were to be banned from any of these three things, which would you choose: making music, making money or making love?

Steve Hewitt (almost tit for tat): I would stop making money, without hesitation. It's because I love music and sex too much. And then, well, you have to choose.

Brian Molko (completely overwhelmed): Oh damn, that's not true. What a dilemma!

R&F: No Brian, that doesn't count, make an effort (laughs).

Brian Molko: Ah, I don't know. And then if. I would stop making money and get on well with someone super rich.

R&F: Or you would be pimp ...

Brian Molko: Yes, that's it. Good plan.

Stefan Olsdal: Stop making love does not mean to stop loving ...

Brian Molko (preparing his shot): And we can always masturbate (general laughter).

Stefan Olsdal: OK then, I would stop making love.

R&F: Okay, it will be written in black and white for all eternity.

Brian Molko: Will we live long enough to regret it? This is the real question.

*COLLECTED BY JEROME SOLIGNY

[Inset, Trash Palace]

Already present on the first album by Trash Palace which he had adorned with his presence one unhealthy recovery of "I Love You, Me No More "in duet with Asia Argento, Brian Molko is coming to re-stack. This time he cosigns directly "The Metric System " with Dimitri Trash Palace Tikovoi, an electro saw boosted to bleeps fundamentals available in two remix and its clip on an enhanced single recently published at Discograph. The result is particularly (d) amazing and sounds good logical, like of Placebo cyber.Placebo in  Rock & Folk magazine - April 2003

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #67

Prompt number: 26 - “How about you trust me for once?”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: Crack

Summary: Nile takes them to Pride. 

AN: For @spookyvoidangelskeleton, thank you for always liking and reblogging my stuff. This is definitely more cracky than normal, so heads up.

“We’re going to go somewhere fun,” Nile promises, taking a left at the light. She read online that there was a good parking garage a couple of blocks away from the parade and that the walk was totally worth the price. Even though her eyes are on the road, she can feel them trading glances behind her back. “How about you guys trust me for once?”

“The last time we trusted you, we got banned,” Joe reminds her, and okay, that’s fair. But in her defense, she didn’t think Nicky would actually punch the guy!

“Wait-what?” Quynh asks, sticking her head in the middle. “Where did you guys get banned from?”

Nile pushes her head back. “Put your seatbelt on. We’re going to get pulled over, and I’m sure as hell not paying for that ticket,” Nile says, and oh god, she’s turning into her mother.

“You guys got banned from somewhere in the seven months I was exiled?” Booker asks.

“Technically, only Nicky is banned,” Joe says, turning around to grin at his husband. “He was my hero.”

“Yes, a true hero,” Andy sarcastically drawls, dodging Joe’s swat. He hits Booker instead and gets a very offended ‘hey!’ in response.

Quynh sticks her head back in the middle, and Nile sighs. If they crash, Quynh’s just going to have to suck it up and deal with the pain of healing. “I understand how you feel now. I don’t like it.”

“How I feel?”

“Yes, being out of the loop. Very annoying.”

Nile huffs, a wry smile stretching her lips. “Welcome to Initiation, it lasts a good fifty years.” Nile doesn’t have to turn around to know Quynh is scrunching her face up, the one that tells the world just how displeased she is.

“Is no one going to tell us where you guys are banned from?” Booker loudly asks, interrupting the intense bickering match between Andy and Joe.

“No!” Andy and Joe shout as one before resuming their little love spat.

Nile briefly makes eye contact with Nicky through the rearview mirror. He looks far too amused with everything going on. “Sorry, Quynh and Booker. You must be a level 8 to unlock the list of places we’re banned from,” Nile says, grinning ear to ear. “Ow! No pinching the driver, Quynh!”

“The driver was being a bitch and deserved it.”

Never let it be said that Quynh was a slow learner. That woman picked up curse words faster than a cheetah on speed.

It takes ten more minutes to pull into the garage. It’s the ten most painful minutes Nile has ever lived through. She almost turns the car around, but that would mean another fifty minutes, and she’s not strong enough for that.

“Oh! Is there some festival going on?” Joe asks as a gaggle of people walk past their car. They’re all in bright shirts that have a rainbow on them, and they’re carrying several signs as well. “I forget what it’s called, but it’s for gay people.”

Nile pulls into a spot. “Pride Parade,” Nile answers.

“Yeah! We should go after we get banned from wherever we’re going!” Suggest a haunted house once, get banned, and no one will let go of it. How was she supposed to know that Nicky’s reaction to Joe screaming would be to turn feral?

Nile turns the car off and looks at her passengers. “Surprise! We’re going to Pride!” She looks at Nicky. “Please don’t get us banned. I don’t know how that would even happen, but please don’t get us banned.”

Nicky smiles. “I can make no promises, but I will try hard not to.” That’s good enough for Nile!

“We’re not appropriately dressed,” Quynh says, watching as another group passed their car. “We need more colors.”

Nile scoffs. “I prepared, honey. Everything is in the trunk.”

By the time they get to the parade, it’s just starting. There are more than a hundred thousand people lined up on the streets, all buzzing with infectious energy, cheering on the people in the middle.

“Dykes on Bikes?” Quyhn asks, pointing to a group of women riding motorcycles. “Are there Dykes on Horses?”

Andy wraps an arm around Quynh’s waist. “People these days don’t value horses.”

“They’re wrong. But, okay.” Everyone but Nile nods in agreement.

Before this can turn into another horses-are-great rant, Nile gets their attention with a wave of her hand. “Let’s get drinks, and then we can enjoy the parade.”

“I’ll go with you. They can stay here,” Booker says, sidestepping around Joe. “They don’t get to see this very often.”

“Cool, any requests?”

“Something sweet,” Joe says.

Darn, she can’t bring a bottle of tequila back. What are they going to drink now?

“Colorful,” Nicky adds.

“Anything is fine,” Andy says, and Quynh nods.

“Alright, I can do sweet and colorful. You guys stay here; come on, Book.”

They find a frozen daiquiri bar towards the middle. It’s absolutely swamped. The ten frazzled employees are dashing around like headless chickens to fill cup after cup as fast as they can. Of course, Nile and Booker choose this one.

“Hi, what can I get you?” The cashier asks once they’re at the front.

“Six monster yards pride drinks,” Booker orders, handing over his card.

“That���ll be $134.86, thank you. Can I say, it’s very nice of you to support your daughter.”

Nile stares at the guy and then promptly bursts into laughter. Oh my god. This is definitely the best day she’s had in years. Booker is looking at the cashier like he lost his damned mind.

“I-I’m sorry, I just thought-I’ll get your drink,” the cashier says, cheeks a bright red.

“I don’t look that old,” Booker touches his face, lingering on the wrinkles on his forehead. “Do I?”

“You are old!” Nile reminds him, swatting his hand away from his face.

“Your drinks,” the cashier says, putting them all on the counter. “Thank you for stopping by, and I’m sorry again for the rude comment.”

Nile waves him off and picks up three drinks. “Thanks! Now, come on, Dad.”

The other’s eyes widen when they see them with their drinks. It’s understandable, the cups were only 48 oz, but instead of building the cups wider, they went taller.

“They didn’t have anything bigger?” Nicky asks, relieving Nile of two of the drinks. He hands one to Joe.

“They were all out of kegs,” Nile responds. “Hope it meets your colorful criteria.”

Nicky looks down at his bright, rainbow-themed drink and his lips quirk up at the corners. “I think this will do.”

“These are amazing!” Quynh exclaims, taking another sip of her drink. Almost half of it is gone already. “You gotta get more!”

“Wow,” Andy says once she swallows her first sip. “These are good.”

“Nicky and I will get the next round,” Joe pipes up, and holy crap. There are only a couple more sips left in his cup.

Have these people never drank a frozen daiquiri before? Or a spiked slushy?

“That’s fine by me,” Booker says, glaring at his drink.

“What happened to you?” Joe asks.

“He’s upset that the cashier thought he was my dad,” Nile answers.

Joe laughs with delight, letting Booker shove him. “Nicky and I are definitely going back then. Have to support local businesses, you know?”

They have a great time. Nile doesn’t think she’s ever seen them all so loose in a public setting before. Joe’s tucked neatly under Nicky’s arm, tangling his fingers with the hand he’s currently under. Andy is standing behind Quynh, both arms wrapped around her neck, chin hooked on her shoulder.

Booker and her end up going back to get the second round. The third too. Nile taps out after that, she has to drive, and she hasn’t exactly been testing her alcohol metabolism rate.

As they’re leaving, Quynh lets out a shriek and runs across the street. Several heads turn her way, and they all watch as Quynh skids to a halt in front of an animal shelter tent.

“A dog!” Joe excitedly says, jogging over to join Quynh.

“Dios,” Nicky mutters, stalking after his husband.

“We’re getting a dog,” Booker sighs and finishes the last of his drink. “There’s going to be shit everywhere.”

“You don’t think Nicky is enough?” Nile asks.

“No,” Andy answers, crossing her arms. “He’s going to fold.”

Nile turns to look at her. “Why aren’t you getting your wife?”

“She’s more than that.” Nile rolls her eyes. “But if I go over, we’re getting more than one dog.”

“You like dogs?”

“She likes pussy,” Booker says and laughs when Andy smacks his arm. “I hope they don’t get a puppy.”

“God, those things yap,” Andy takes another sip of her drink. “They better not get a small dog.”

Nile looks across the street. As Andy said, Nicky has definitely lost the argument. They’re all petting the puppies, and man, Nile really hopes she doesn’t get a million dollars. How awful that would be.

Five minutes later, Quynh and Joe come skipping back, a puppy in each of their arms. Nicky is carrying some papers as well as two leashes.

Quynh holds the puppy out to them. “This is Max, and that’s Ollie! They’re Australian Shepherds!”

Nile pets Max; she’s not a monster and looks up at Nicky. “You’re weak.”

Nicky sighs. “I know.”

[mankaithings]

Hai can I ask for some sakyoizu fluffy HC ? I can't see any and I'm kinda starving, i need some crumbs please?

first of all, I just want to say that this is probably my most shipped couple in the game aside from Juban and tsumugi x tasuku (I forgot their ship name) so thank you so much for this request  <333

So it’s pretty much canon that Sakyo has liked Izumi ever since they were kids

Just imagine little Sakyo spacing out with a smile on his face as he thinks of Izumi and how much the other people in the Yakuza teases him about it

He didn’t want it to be obvious but it just really shows unconsciously

Even after years, Sakyo still has this fondness at Izumi but it took him so long to finally confess

Between this time, everybody in the dorm could pretty much tell that Sakyo is into Izumi and not just that wow-I-like-her kinda thing but the I’m-madly-in-love-with-you thing

Some even made bets on who will confess and how long it will take for them to get together

Azuma won both so now Banri, Taichi, Homare, Citron, Kazunari and Tenma has to do something for him

So imagine how everybody will celebrate when finally this two adults get together

Sure there will be people jealous at Sakyo but at the end of the day, they’ll be happy that their dear charming director finally found love in her life

The one who confessed was Izumi, it was when she finally figured out her feelings for Sakyo and it just can’t be hidden anymore. It’s not like she wants to hide it either

The day Izumi confessed was probably one of the most unforgettable moments in Sakyo’s life, imagine having your childhood crush saying she likes you back

We could only dream

But Izumi got worried, because Sakyo wasn’t responding, she thought it was because he wasn’t interested but that wasn’t the case

Sakyo’s just malfunctioning

So when Sakyo finally woke up from his trance, he also admitted his feelings for Izumi, although unlike Izumi it was more awkward with blushes everywhere as his eyes moved from everywhere and anything just not landing on Izumi

Although Izumi was ready to get in a relationship with Sakyo, the old man’s so old fashioned and wanted to take Izumi to dates before he would officially ask her to be his girlfriend

But if Izumi was to be honest, it did kinda make her heart skip a beat, there’s just something romantic about it

But Sakyo didn’t leave empty handed that night since Izumi kissed his cheek

Sakyo got worried after that, with just a simple kiss on the cheek he was already feeling like he was on cloud nine, what more if it was on the lips?

After the 3rd date, Sakyo finally took courage and asked Izumi to finally be his girlfriend

That was where they shared their first kiss, it wasn’t the best but it wasn’t bad either, to be honest, if there was any problem was the fact that Sakyo didn’t know where he should place his hands

Dates between Izumi and Sakyo would be going to plays in Veludo way and discussing them on the old park they used to go to when they were children late in the night as they sit on the old swings as they look up to the beautiful night sky

But of course, Sakyo wouldn’t just go for those, no. He will make sure that he takes Izumi out properly, with beautiful and elegant clothes and a good dinner

The other guys in the dorm started to go against this because “How come you can eat expensive dinner and we can’t even keep the lights on until midnight?!”

But Sakyo shuts them up with the “It’s my money not the company so shut your yapping and do your homework!”

There will also be times when they can’t go out so they just decide to either watch a good movie and snuggle on the couch or talk about things on the dorm’s balcony with coffees on their hands

Speaking of cuddles, Sakyo’s the most awkward man out there, he can’t even hold Izumi’s hands how do you expect him to hold her in his arms???

At first it was awkward, Sakyo was tense and he didn’t know where he should place his hands

Banri might have laughed at the scene but he stopped upon receiving Sakyo’s death glare

But as time passed, Sakyo became more comfortable with the whole thing, sure he still doesn’t like doing it in public but once they’re alone, Sakyo will not waste time in wrapping Izumi in his arms, especially when he notices that Izumi’s getting stressed

When Izumi get’s stressed, Sakyo takes it upon himself to make sure Izumi gets enough rest, by letting her relax in his arms and listening to what her problems were

He would also try to lessen Izumi’s responsibilities, when he has the time he would make sure to help out as much as he can to lessen Izumi’s burden

To be honest, I don’t really think there’s anybody in the relationship who gets jealous easily. Both of them are adults and has enough trust in each other to know that either parties are going to cheat

Also, just completely random but in the dorms after finally getting informed about Sakyo and Izumi finally going out, they now tease Sakyo about having an affair with Izumi and cheating on their mom which is Omi

Don’t worry Omi, I’m pretty sure everybody in the fandom wants you to be their hubby

Sakyo tried to stop them from it but eventually gives up because even his girlfriend joined in the joke

To end this, Sakyo’s going to treasure Izumi so much, he’s liked her ever since they were children and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her go now that they’re finally together and Izumi’s going to give as much or even more love to Sakyo 

[qqueenofhades]

So dare I ask what the nightmare in detail is regarding Brexit right now?

@tollers-and-jack said: I’m asking for the rant…

@rhymeswithtessa said: I’m a big fan of your rants gimme your thoughts on brexit

@onlymorelove said: Ahem. I am interested in your rant. If you feel like sharing. 💗

Ahaha wow. Apparently this is something the people really want to hear about. Disclaimer, just remember that you asked for this, and that this is, as Captain Holt would say, a trigger for me. So if this periodically devolves into incoherent screaming/application of capital letters and exclamation marks, and what have you, just know that.

So… I wrote these posts soon after Brexit in 2016 explaining what a spectacularly stupid idea it was even then. If I said anything optimistic in those posts, in a sort of grasping-at-straws-maybe-this-will-work sort of flailing way, please disregard it. We have had empirical evidence of how this played out. Spoiler alert: it failed. It failed so comprehensively on every possible level that it seems almost ludicrous for a supposedly modern political system, but this is 2019, the world is dogshit, and we are all retreating into our little late-capitalism xenophobia bubbles with our right-wing strongmen and our populist rhetoric and the UK is now a global laughingstock. Which believe me, the ex-British Empire richly deserves, especially given the part that anti-immigration paranoia played in this whole debacle, but also, I live here and really would Rather Not.

I do not even know how to sum up the ridiculousness of the past few months, where – almost at the end of the two-year period of triggering Article 50, with just a very short amount of time to the original exit date (29 March 2019) – the UK finally managed to secure a withdrawal deal. Mind you, it was a shit deal that both sides hated, but by golly, It Made Brexit Happen, and since the Theresa May-bot has only been able to repeat over and over that she will Make Brexit Happen, there you have it. Not surprisingly, it proceeded to be comprehensively defeated in Parliament by the largest majority ever seen since World War II. It then was subject to surface-level makeovers and cosmetic tinkering about the backstop in Northern Ireland (since among many other things, the ardent Brexiteers forget that oh yeah we share a land border with an EU country and peace in Ireland is kind of a thing that should be paid attention to). The DUP (Democratic Unionist Party) of Northern Ireland, whose 10 MPs prop up the minority Tory government, absolutely hated it and would not support it, since it would effectively introduce different regulations for NI than the rest of the UK and thus jeopardise the, you know, United Kingdom. Plus it would require the EU’s assent to end the arrangement, and also we can’t have that. Because reasons.

The deal was then thumpingly defeated for a second time, people got worried because uhhhh aren’t we supposed to leave the EU in like a week, Parliament had to institute emergency measures and hold a series of votes on Brexit alternatives, those also got defeated and May would not even commit to honouring the will of the House, 6 million people signed a petition asking for Article 50 to be revoked and the Brexit process cancelled (the biggest in parliamentary history) and got ignored. Meanwhile, Nigel Farage led a pathetic procession of 200 diehard Leavers against literally 1 million people in London calling for a new referendum, the deal got defeated for a third time after they had to do all kinds of fancy-dancing to get it back for yet another vote, they got the EU to agree to a crunch extension to 12 April, and now that that is three days away with absolutely no consensus in sight, have sent May back to Europe to beg Angela Merkel and Emmanuel Macron to extend the deadline to 30 June. They actually had to pass a bill (by one vote) forcing her to do this in order to avoid a no-deal Brexit. The EU is justifiably exasperated with this utter, unbelievable incompetence, the fact that the hard right wing of the Tory party pulled this absurdly irresponsible jackshit without any clue how to do it, and the way the UK still thinks it can just pick an a la carte deal where we’re great and the EU sucks and blue passports and blah blah Great Britain is Great!!! And there has been absolutely no collective awareness from either major party that maybe, just maybe, trying to undo a legal and political and cultural alignment that has existed since at least 1973 when we were a founding member of this project, in two years, with no idea how, to please a xenophobic lying campaign, WAS A STUPID FUCKING GODDAMN IDEA!!!!!!!!!!!!

(we pause while the blogger breathes and drinks heavily)

Anyway, that is the short version of Nobody Still Knows What The Fuck Is Going to Happen. Technically if we stayed in the bloc past 22 May, we’d have to hold elections to the European Parliament, which bitch bitch whine whine, the Brexiteers don’t want to do. Maybe we think we’re entitled to more special treatment (no scratch that, we definitely do) because we can’t sort our heads from our asses and have been so wildly and bogglingly arrogant and incompetent that it would almost be funny if people’s lives and livelihoods and futures weren’t at stake. And we have the goddamn European Research Group (aka the hard Brexit wing) yapping about how no deal wouldn’t be that bad and we should just take it on the chin because Blah Blah Blitz Spirit, Nationalism Patriotism Our Freedom From The Tyrannical EU. (Sidenote, if someone just punches Jacob Rees-Mogg in the elitist Little Britain face, you don’t know where I was, God I hate him so much.) Every single business, manufacturer, industry, finance, medicine, food, education, you name it outfit has been warning that no, actually, no deal would be catastrophic and the UK is not remotely prepared for it. To the point we have the military on standby to deliver basic goods if it happens??! How. How is this acceptable??!?!? I don’t understand??!?!

(And the Brexiteers who are like “this is Britain let’s all just hunt hares and grow food in our back gardens,” which, yes, is something I heard actually said, are out of touch to a truly stupendous degree. Yes I’m sure that a modern first-world country wants to resort to subsistence farming to feed its 66 million people. Do they. Even. Hear Themselves. Racism is a hell of a drug, my friends! And if you want to be like “oh no it’s not about racism/anti-immigrant sentiment, it’s about the economy,” let’s just say that the newsreader covering a Brexit march said that he’d never seen so many white people in one place and was forced to apologize, because racist white people don’t like it being pointed out to them that they are racist white people. That tells you a lot. And the Leave campaign has been convicted multiple times for breaking electoral law and just flat-out Lying to the public, so the people who voted Leave thinking they were in fact getting a better economic deal were deceived outright and have indeed often expressed regret that they were so wildly and deliberately deluded. So anyway. Fun!)

I cannot emphasise enough the sheer, staggering arrogance and delusion of the people who proposed this project and then forced it through, because the British public has believed throughout its entire history that it’s better than the whole world (see again: imperial nostalgia and Oh No The Foreigners Are Coming and etc) and has been fed for a good 25 years on this point on a lot of bullshit stories about how terrible and Liberal and Anti-British the EU is, because the British popular press is a flaming dumpster fire (you think Fox News is bad, and it is, but so many of the tabloids are basically Fox News UK). So the Brits feel as if they’ve been so unfairly repressed by the EU and need to Take Back Control (once again, there is a very long history of this  rhetoric of the English being supposedly attacked and repressed by foreigners, dating back to the idea of the “Norman Yoke” resulting from the Conquest, which became a big deal in the 19th century – I am a historian, I can pull receipts for days on this). Once again, they think they can just do whatever they want, the EU is the bad guy for not giving it to them, that we should set ourselves on fire and jump out the window rather than sit at the table like grownups with the rest of Europe, and just take our ball and go home and yet still think we are entitled to preferential treatment.

I just…. I don’t even. I DO NOT EVEN. I seriously lack the words. 

So we may get another rolling series of short-term extensions, we may not, nobody can come to any agreement on what should be done, May promised to resign to get the deal through, the deal did not get through, the whole setup is so unsustainable that it feels like a general election is an inevitability, and the obvious solution would be another referendum to see if the people even still goddamn want this. But the Brexiteers, for all they bluster about upholding the will of the people to leave, resist this with all their might (what are you fucking afraid of? If you’re so confident that you’re still the majority, you should WANT another referendum to confirm it, but you’re cowards and you know you’d lose and you’re tied to this stick of dynamite for Ideology Reasons, god damn it). The message has been always that We Must Deliver Brexit and This Is What The People Want, while the people are breaking records saying that no, actually, we’d like another say, because everyone has now seen that this is an absurd shitshow that cannot be accomplished (and ONCE AGAIN WAS NEVER! FEASIBLE! IN THE FUCKING FIRST PLACE!!!!) and it hey, actually was not a bad idea to be in the EU. 

This is again, the alignment of the entire post-WWII political and legal world. It confers countless benefits, freedom from tariffs, the single market, a customs union, visa-free travel, no roaming charges, the right to live and work in 27 other countries, etc. But because the ex-British Empire (which really wishes it was still the British Empire) has its fragile racist panties in a bunch about other people coming to live here (when as ever, the problem isn’t immigrants, it’s austerity budgets and the Tories absolutely gutting government and NHS funding and social programmes and thinking that the solution to knife crime is to punish teachers for not noticing their students getting into it), they have decided this is actually the best course of action. Because we don’t want those Non British People telling us what to do. Ew gross.

As people have said, it’s like trading a gourmet three course meal for a bag of crisps and feeling self-satisfied about it, because boy we sure showed them. It has been bungled to a degree truly stupefying to everyone who isn’t a marching Brexiteer ideologue, Labour have…. really not inspired any confidence whatsoever that they’d be able to handle it better (since they have wildly see-sawed between what they will and won’t support, if they’d revoke Article 50 or support a new people’s vote or so on) and the Prime Minister has failed on an utterly fundamental degree to build cross-party consensus or engage with other European leaders or display any ability to consider alternatives. The Tories have truly felt that they can ram this through without any reference to anyone or anything else, and fuck consequences, I guess. The British economy has already lost approximately £66 billion as a result of Brexit uncertainty and loses more every day, every major firm is moving its headquarters to somewhere they can take advantage of EU law, this will leave us poorer, more isolated, less secure, with fewer options, and generally a worse deal in every imaginable way, and yet, because again, racism and xenophobia is a hell of a drug, there are still some factions who feel like yes, this is absolutely what we should do. 

It is truly a slow motion car crash of nightmares, it’s completely avoidable and yet nobody has the backbone to do that, Parliament and the PM have completely broken down, nobody is listening to the British people for whom they are supposedly doing this, and once again, the British Empire absolutely 100% deserves this. But as someone who lives here and would actually kind of like to get a job here, Jesus Christ. Jesus. Christ. JESUS. CHRIST.

[fortheheavenssake]

PG MM Anon Interpretation Collection- 10

65: Sept. 20

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG INTERPRETATION OF MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON HAVE AN AWESOME WEEKEND 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON … it’s a bird’ it’s a private plane ‘ it’s an Archificial!!!!!…… Canada why?…… three weddings and a numeral …… an unnecessary company …… not buying the lying ……” Rome , Bloody Rome!!”…………” one makes ones bed Philip”…… tabloids ‘ mud sticks, it’s official!!…… hated ‘ not rated …… This spotty leopard is def!! …… “ To boldly go……… “

it’s a bird’ it’s a private plane ‘ it’s an Archificial!!!!!

It’s Superman!!! Was the original third part. The ever elusive doll baby with magic powers to change size, hair colour, eyes, eyelashes etc etc all while wearing a Christening gown🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂 Again MM ANON are you confirming this? Private planes have been used because as we all know, there is no baby in her care, it’s always been a doll, and/or actors getting on/off private planes and or going to their local. For some reason EJ and ED are lying! Allegedly.

Canada why?

Canada Dry🤣🤣🤣😂😂MM ANON are you teasing me because l didn’t know that rare song🤣🤣😂😂? Seriously, l wonder if this is about Cameron Ortis and enquiring why Canada’s issue occurred and who was given what information.

three weddings and a numeral

Movie Three Weddings and a Funeral. Interestingly the write Richard Curtis is working with Catherine DOC , a new mental health initiative. It was in the paper the other day, if l recall there was a suicide he experienced, sibling? I cannot recall exactly. So Three weddings and a numeral. Let’s review what a numeral is, its a figure, symbol, or group of these denoting a number. MM ANON are you affirming something for us? Oh pretty please!!

Madam alleged annulled 1st marriage, divorced second and PH was the golden door number three, let’s make a deal, who remembers that game show? Does numeral represent a part of the law which denotes annulment and was it done legally? We know the divorce was legal because TE has remarried or is engaged. Oh my stars, are we getting affirmation?l have said awhile now why did PH hold the book when he was ‘signing’ the register after the wedding ceremony, he held the book so the camera couldn’t see it. Oh this clue has me buzzing! I know it’s can’t be III. Roman numeral three for three weddings they have attended as a married couple, the horrible blue and white dress, Princess Eugenie and Jack B and now MN?

an unnecessary company

Is this the Sussex Foundation? They could have worked as a team with the Cambridges but her jealousy and craving of $$$$$££££££££€€€€€ far supersedes any philanthropic or truly real humanitarianism.

not buying the lying

No one is believing anything she says or does except sugars and celebrities who share management or SS PR.

” Rome , Bloody Rome!!”

Again PP, disgust continues to rile his anger. Raging at yet another trip, how many flights is this now in six weeks or so? If they are all true it must be close to ten. He is a strong man, served his country for decade upon decade, to see this madam, l cannot imagine his blood pressure!

” one makes ones bed Philip”

HMTQ and PP , or maybe LG, the phrase you made your bed, now lie on it. This means your life choices have consequences and you have to deal with them The speaking if first person here, in a manner, leads me to believe this is HMTQ talking to her husband and the incredible burden of a booty call turning into this horrendous mess and PH playing his role, in his due to HMTQ, his grandmother is him having to deal with his poor choice. We still love and pray for him, as do his family. It must be desperately hard to watch him , but it will all be worth it, once justice is served, and make no mistake, it may not be tomorrow or next week, it will come! My word for madam, she will not understand this but Ask not for whom the bell tolls, for it tolls for the.

tabloids ‘ mud sticks, it’s official!!

Monster Meghan nanny tells all, TMZ shows fake photos of pub visit days and days after it allegedly happened, the pub owners denied they were there, the meta data on the photo said it was taken September 17,2019. More and more in the tabloids both paper and online tabloids, the truth is coming out and people are believing it more and more thus the term the mud sticks. MM ANON, the other riddle you used ‘ stick and stones’may break my bones, but names will never hurt me. I added the rest, after the part she mentioned. So in this case, the ‘names’ which in fact is truth are most definitely hurting her already bad reputation. Way to go SS!! You’re really earning your $$$$£££££€€€€! NOT !😂😂😂😂🤣

hated ‘ not rated

If one goes by social media et al, she doesn’t rate as a royal, but oh my the level of absolute disgust, anger, has built into hatred. Rightfully so, she blew in, rather flew in on her 🧹, paid backers. Manipulated a marriage, a ‘fauxmegnancy’, wastage of money on an epic scale, disrespecting the British and Commonwealth every step of the way. Trying to Americanize the Royal family and the biggest of all is the complete vile disrespect to HMTQ. To me, all the misdeeds, ? maybe illegal, those are all left for LG to manage. The thing of HMTQ at this stage of her Reign and her life, to be so utterly disrespected, repeatedly is utter gall. Yet another major reason she is hated so much by so many!

This spotty leopard is def!!

Def Leopard…awesome band and takes me back to hockey games music and after parties. She is def, not physically def,but tone def in an abstract meaning. She doesn’t accept any opinion except her own. Any questions she immediately cries troll, racist, hater, a plethora of descriptors. I still cannot believe all the time twitter was going last night either in Italy or as leaving to go there. Who cares if l or others misread the riddle. I am not embarrassed to acknowledge l misread something! Hey this is for fun, if it angers or irritates someone, perhaps reset this or take a break. In saying that, l work very hard in processing what the options are that a clue may mean and then writing it, in a manner that is as clear and concise as l can do.

“ To boldly go……… “.

To boldly go where no man, since changed to no one , has gone before, from the opening of Star Trek episodes. So madam has boldly gone to Rome sans archficial, and the Africa trip is pending shortly. Wonder why the journalists flight to Capetown has been cancelled?? She sees herself as the worlds answer to anything and l am sure she will display her narcissistic brilliantly while there. Oh this is going to be fun to watch!

As an aside, the HMS PRINCE OF WALES was taken out of drydock in Forsyth, Scotland. Some interiors are still being constructed. This is a massive beast of a sea faring ship. Check it out!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Wow! How do you do this dear PG! You take so little and turn out a masterpiece! So impressive, thank you so much! As always, greatly appreciated! Thank you!😃💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

Sep 20th, 2019

————————

66: sept. 21

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MM Anon

skippyv20

MM ANON …The wedding r/deception … the bigger picture …… easy does it! but do it…… weasel words …… not an option …… a collection of miss-fits…… heads or tails?……… home alone 7…… A sensible emptiness …… “don’t forget to wind the clock”……… no public appearances …… a good WHO-done

The wedding r/deception

So, this variety of people gather for big wedding number two in less than five years for the same bride,,different groom. It looked like a political conference with the level of security and who was there. Why did they attend, as far as l know the paper said they weren’t part of the evening prepared, l didn’t see them there in the photos from that evening. They were at the wedding, why? If you’re all close friends why not go to the fun bit and socialize, have a few drinks and a dance. I’ll tell you why BECAUSE THEYRE NOT A COUPLE THATS TOGETHER, it’s a charade. There must have been some reason they went, especially l enjoyed the cheeky photo of Harry where he SOUGHT out the camera and grinned. That told this girl all l need to know. Something was up, and we may never know what the agenda was but something was up!

the bigger picture

When one says look at the bigger picture here, it means take a step back from your situation, look at pros, cons, what you have invested into the issue and make the best decision that way. Here l think it’s literal, look at the whole picture, who was at that we’d and why. I have no answers but l think that’s one option.

I also think this is PH, going to the wedding was one small part of his time with mm, MM ANON is telling us don’t yippity yap about who was wrong or right about them going to the wedding or not. I admit it freely, l completely misread the clue about the wedding. Am l still lived?🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂💜💜💜💜💜 l hope so😊. Seriously now, look at the big picture who set him up, what’s happened since then and so forth. I feel we need to continue to brain storm and put forth opinions here, this is fascinating and sometimes what we have talked about is in the paper the next day and l think wow! So let’s keep our eye on the prize and on the bigger picture!

easy does it! but do it

Slow progress in extraction from this sordid tale. Many many things have changed and been revealed l he is back to being called PH in the media no more DUKE🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂😂. There is so much negative PR it’s incredible and SS has only made things worse. So easy do it with the extraction but DO IT ! HMTQ and LG have this. The thing l fear presently is that speech she is going to give shortly after landing.

weasel words

Weasel words are words or statements that are intentionally ambiguous or misleading AKA word salad. That’s how she speaks, gobble de gook , just all kind awesome kind, yet kind but also awesomely kind, but kind of awesome, yet kindly kind. You get it, you know it. As l said , my massive fear is that first speech with the domestic murder rate off the charts, she goes in there yammering like that, there is serious damage that she could do. This is no joke, l worry about this. She on the other hand thinks she’s so awesomely kind that her speeches save the world and just her presence there will make things all better especially if she uses a darker bronzer!

not an option

Giving up is not an option. There were years invested into planning this and years have been invested into investigations. This must be allowed to play on as long as it needs to. They cannot afford to not pull out and follow every piece of yarn they unravel, this is too internationally important to just give up now. The general public is angry both at home and the a Commonwealth, its an incredible game being played but we have God , HMTQ and LG and PW and PH on ours! Let’s remember to keep them in prayer 🙏🏻💜🙏🏻.

a collection of miss-fits

Well l could say the stolen name SmartSets was a collection of things that fit a very select few and a bag, that cost more than the clothes that the fit on was terrible. The trousers she woke had a big bit of extra fabric right in the front lower area yikes! I do think, the almost inbred crew that was at that Italian wedding was a bunch of misfits. I am not judging but my reading tells me, her first marriage took place in Venice and was a massive affair, that marriage didn’t last three yearsish. Here we have a massive affair in Rome, l don’t get this flaunting of wealth. I just do not get it. The guest list, why are the Kushners, be it Jared or Josh always at any event? The connections in that guest list that was posted in the paper again reminded me of a genealogical family tree. This all so bizarre. Has she grafted her way into money as well? They keep saying she’s a fashion designer, l keep myself pretty in the know of stuff like that because it interesting to me. Before mm, l had NEVER heard of mn and her stupid white shirt. That’s her big contribution to fashion a white shirt? Okay then…..moving swiftly along…….

heads or tails?

Flip a coin, choose a side, you win or lose the bet.

home alone 7

Home Alone aaaaahhhhh Kevin!!! Love it, the sequels not the same. Is this now, the trio to Italy, the 7th time archficial has left left alone by his ‘parents’. Well yes l sure Nannyficial has things all in hand, in fact maybe they will Nannyficial to take care of Archficial in SA??

A sensible emptiness

Emptiness can mean a human condition is a sense of generalized boredom, social alienation and apathy, which means a

lack of interest, enthusiasm, or concern.

Sensible can be a statement or course of action chosen bearing in mind wisdom and prudence, and is likely to be of benefit. It can also be something that is practical and functional rather than decorative. Well we know mm is not the latter definition of sensible. So sensible emptiness, PH has made a life changing, mane lives actually, decision that night at soho, and here we are today. I truly believe this description of sensible emptiness could apply to him, HMTQ, those who live both, their families and all of us who are loyal to the Crown and love our royals. We know justice has to be brought to bare or is it bear, you know what l mean. So these feelings we talk about with our 💜🐼💜 and we share here are normal. We need to pray for justice seekers and truth seekers in all forms, they are doing Gods work.

“don’t forget to wind the clock”

Old clocks need winding to keep them running. To wind somebody up means to get them excited in a good or bad way. I think this means quite literal don’t forget to take care of yourself, PH, sleep, exercise, eat well, check your emotions with those you love, do what you need to do to stay fit (and oh is he fit,😁) so as the clock needs to be wound to function well, these things are essential to him being able to function well.

no public appearances

Amw will stay MIA, this is stupid ridiculous, but the lie has to continue. There has to be a reason and we must pray for PH , HMTQ and LG. Especially PH, he will have to maintain his composure. How they are going to keep this lie going l don’t know but l read they are taking 12 staff, that is NOT counting RPOS!!

a good WHO-done it.

This clue has a double meaning. It can mean a really good storyline in a book or film or tv really, that doesn’t tell us straight away who the criminal is but lays clues to figure it out….kinda like your riddles MM ANON. WHO is the World Health Organization. I don’t know if anybody noted the article l put on my blog last night or read it in the paper/saw or heard it on the news, this is a run on sentence for the ages, my goodness! There has been a spate of relationship homicide in SA, with 30 women being murdered in the last month alone. There has been a dramatic rise in statistics of violence. The WHO commenting means this is a severe issue needing addressing! With great dread do l await madams first speech shortly after they land, where she will speak on the topic of violence against women. This is a very dangerous decision with a lot of potential blowback!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Wow! Amazing….so appreciate this dear PG! Things are getting interesting now! Thank you so much!😃💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

———————

67: Sept. 22

💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

I have had a massive increase in my sciatic pain, that’s been building since flu last week, today was brutal. But better now so l thought l would give the riddle a go. Please continue praying for me, l really am in need of it. Lots of love and gratitude 💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻PG🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜

MM Anon

MM ANON … Azurelee Drive…… “ we are interested” … … between 6 and 10……🎼 California scheming 🎼……((wedding gems…… “ SA ‘just a fuc#@g nuisance”…… “£uck the press, we can do anything I want”…… “ I don’t lie, I embellish”))……” is on our watch list “……… “HEADS ‘ I win”…… a draconian solution … “when The devil drives”. 🎼 “over and over and over again my friend”🎼………(🤫🤫🤭💎💎💎💎👩🏽‍💻👷🏿‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️ when in Rome!!!!)

Azurelee Drive

Azure is the bluest of blues it is a gorgeous colour. As l suspected, Azurelee Drive is in Malibu, another clue to reenforce her long term plan is Malibu. Are there any prisons with an ocean view in Malibu? Maybe someone could let me know if there are, l am serious!

“ we are interested”

Again with the first person royal”we”. HMTQ is very interested in what’s going on. I think we are nearing some sort of climax with this trip. I have said this before, l trustmyngut, l have a very strong feeling something is going to happen. Perhaps the reason they flew to the wedding for such a short time, hardly worth it, was for her to use someone else’s computer to engage in a blood diamond deal? Again does she not get she is being monitored? Obviously not!

between 6 and 10

7, 8, 9, are between 6 and 10 literally. But l think this is the amount of time they spent at the wedding. They weren’t part of the party the night before, the next day wedding breakfast or the second night party the night after the wedding. Wow besties eh? Isn’t it awesome to have such great best friends?🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂

🎼 California scheming 🎼

This is a play on the song California dreaming, MM ANON has used this before, so it’s reenforcing for her plan to live there after all this is over. Yes perhaps in a dark cement building! Her plan, get all the $$$$€€€££££££ she can, set up her blog again and divorce rebuilding her life in Malibu was the last place l read was the mansion search. She is scheming her way into the marriage, during the ,arriage, out of the marriage and after the marriage

((wedding gems…… “ SA ‘just a fuc#@g nuisance”…… “£uck the press, we can do anything I want”…… “ I don’t lie, I embellish”))

Gems has an obvious meaning, which is also involved in this riddle.Gems can also be snippets like best song on an album etc. These are the gems of conversration/comments she made the night of the wedding. She really is stupid, has no filter and no judgement whatsoever!

” is on our watch list “

Of course, with the international security issues at , her past involvement with many, many individuals of dubious character during her yachting decades, and the current work LG has been doing l am certain she is on a watch list. Here l assume everyone knows what a watch list is, a person, or persons, group, or items requiring close surveillance, most usually for legal or political reasons.

“HEADS ‘ I win”

We had heads or tails yesterday. HEADS all caps, what’s the meaning? Who has HEADS and is the winner? I found one definition but nothing in all caps, heads a shouted warning that something is falling from above one’s head.

a draconian solution

We had a case, few years ago where l live, they wanted to build a casino in part of a local pub. Our city had a by-law preventing gambling and alcohol on sale in the same establishment. I can still see AND hear the owner when he was interviewed on the news about how Draconian our laws were. The definition of draconian is of laws or their application) excessively harsh and severe. I might add old law not updated. Many many places have old laws in the books that are never used anymore but still would be enforceable because they still exist as binding law. So LG and his team may have found just such a law or set of laws that they believe fit this situation and can be utilized to the benefit of the Crown. Oh please, please pretty please, let this be so!!

“when The devil drives”.

There is a novel by Scottish write Chris Brookmyre, with this same title. A dual plot, one a Shakespearean play being performed outdoors and a sniper kills someone, second plot a terminally ill woman wants to find her missing sister. The first is obvious, we don’t want that but security will be very tight on the tour l am certain. The second plot, are we being told there is a sister that is missing and still being searched out? Or is this nothing to do with the novel and the obvious meaning, once you’re riding with the devil nothing good and only reviled happens. I am inclined to think maybe a bit of both.

🎼 “over and over and over again my friend”🎼

This song has been performed and covered by many. The endless ways one tried to do things to be loved and keep someone happy. This is PH over and over and over,he is publicly acting this out, the loving supportive husband and “anything Meghan wants Meghan gets”. He has done such a great job and this has resulted in him taking lots and lots of media heat!

(🤫🤫🤭💎💎💎💎👩🏽‍💻👷🏿‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️👷🏿‍♂️ when in Rome!!!!)

Blood diamonds! We have had this in a previous riddle. Shhh, diamond, laptop, four workers with hard hats of colour. Did she order, or pick up her diamonds??. Or sell some??? I suspected from an earlier riddle blood diamonds were on the table for her, here l have confirmation . I am thinking with the use of laptop she communicated the deal and will pick up in Africa. Oh kids, this is getting good. HANDCUFFS CLANG CLANG,

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Fantastic PG! Things are heating up it seems! Thank you, we so appreciate all the work you put into this….especially on your days! ThNk you🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️

Ask Skippy submission

12 notes

Sep 22nd, 2019

———————-

68: sept.28

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

IT IS SOOOOOO GOOD TO BE BACK!!

MM Anon

MM ANON …… a slippery halo… … AFRICANT …… 🎼” you must have been a beautiful …” 🎼……… faux mother… no British archificial …… a crowd of booooos await……” so’ she Hates the bloody Brits”…… PB will destroy her thunder …… “ Malibu-hoo welcome “…… a $6 million drive in …… an uninterested Africa … PR pays for local hysteria … a white black imposter … well paid unimpressed mothers feel used …… “beef it up for Pakistan”

a slippery halo

The Halo Trust, the anti landlmine charity that a Princess Diana was such a part of and still thrives today because of her work . I remember 1997 , the land mine on the news, her walking, seems like yesterday. This is a double entebdré by our dear MM ANON. Harry has been slaughtered by the media for being a spoilt petulant entitled man. The halo or crown of the Prince 🤴 is slippery now in public opinion. LET’S PRAY FOR OUR HARRY🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

AFRICANT

Can or can’t, the version of cannot. Nothing has been good, happy, meaningful about her presence on this holiday, it’s not a royal tour. Just wonder what other stunts she is going to pull, because we are going to get another video of amw with oh happy day in the background music. By the way, is she paying royalty rights for using that music , the performers? Catherine cannot and does not put a foot wrong. This one cannot even put a hair right!

… 🎼” you must have been a beautiful

You must have been a beautiful baby, you must have a beautiful child! Singing as l type, great old song. Drive all the girls wild, l think is one line. He sure is a cutie, that’s for sure!

faux mother

As below, she doesn’t possess an ounce of mothering instinct. She can’t because that takes away from attention on her. This is exactly why amw was not at the play date.

no British archificial

So is he born in SA? Not royal, less than that not even British. Good God this woman is moronically stupid! Makes sense that he was in SA, that’s why the dolls have been in use, Christening photo, photoshopped, first photo that was barred by the palace from being used after June, can’t recall exact date. She picked this child up while in SA so she could throw him up in the air, climb up steps in five inch heels to copy Catherine , show off a real baby, who didn’t respond to her at all except when she dug her hands into him and he involuntarily winced. THIS US MADNESS PEOPLE!! This poor child, now his face is forever plastered. In one photo, l thought l noticed a strong resemblance to papa TM!

a crowd of booooos await

Oh Kuwait, l am rubbing my hands together, wait until the return to the UK! NOW the gloves are off, she will be booed and booed, good luck to her on any engagement or public appearance. Boo boo boo are coming. People are beyond furious in the UK and Commonwealth!

” so’ she Hates the bloody Brits”

This is PP, piping in his comments l oh Sir, l feel so bad for you having this to deal with. HMTQ needs your love and sumore than ever! Steady on Sir, steady on!

PB will destroy her thunder

I am so happy for Princess Beatrice and Edo, their engagement photos both the colour ones that Eugenie took, and the black and white ones, l cannot recall the photographers name just now. I was soooooo happy to see the news and what a payback for her stealing the thunder meaning spoiling someone’s excitement, on Eugenie and Jack’s wedding day by wearing that huge coat to stir attention to possibility of her being pregnant. Who knew how that fauxmegnancy would turn into such a mess. As does everything with her!

“ Malibu-hoo welcome “

Will she be welcomed with hoos or boos in Malibu when she just leaves once she has her nest padded, or so she thinks. I don’t see her living the high life in a mansion. She might check into hotel California but she may never leave. Justice is coming! The IRS will want it share of the 250K as well as all she has purloined. The US , l believe is the only country in the world where no matter where you live you still pay taxes on EVERYTHING!!!

a $6 million drive in

Ha ha, reminds me of summertime, movies st the drive-in, l think the place she will eventually live will be mouth many tens of millions, have the best security and the best staff. It will also require wearing of an orange jumpsuit or its equivalent!!

an uninterested Africa …

As l have written below, NOBODY CARES ABOUT HER, People are struggling to get by. SA has had water problems for years! Droughts, poverty, the sky high murder rate and domestic abuse, she isn’t even in the radar of importance.

PR pays for local hysteria

The ‘crowds’ on the tree stump she stood🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂😂 the great Plato sharing infinite words of wisdom and insight. The video with DT was privately arranged, paid for. People have been bussed in as paid extras so it appears she has people who adore her. I saw an interview with three regular women walk-in down the street, he asked if they knew of a big event, they looked at each other , nothing. He said royal, then they came out with Harry but not a one of them knew her name. Ooooooo the sting!The burn! I hope she saw that!

a white black imposter

Blackface used to be a thing decades ago, Al Jolson, in the first talking picture/movie made it famous, well it already was actually. White people putting black on their faces and pretending to be black to perform or at parties etc. Here we have the screamer of racist, troll, racist troll, her two twitters that l follow are.CcccRrrrraaaazzzzyyyy. She talks to herself, to Sam, sometimes tweeting from both alternately. She of the racist card, has spent her life identifying as Caucasian, her immense use of bronzer gets worse day by day, except it seems to me on this ‘tour’ her makeup is less, her clothes are dishevelled, she looks a mess. She is trying to pass as black so it’s fits her narrative right Sister?!? Passing, years ago meant someone of colour who appeared Caucasian could appear or pass as being white and avoid the racism. She disgusts me 🐍.

well paid unimpressed mothers feel used

These women who allegedly paid 50K to have a half hour ‘lunch’ with her, made to sit on the floor, which culturally is soooooooo inappropriate given that is done when grieving or in mourning. God please bring the Justice and remove her from this family right into a nice colour of orange, she seems to like jumpers or whatever they are called in the UK, that one piece thing she wore, so orange to match her bronzer which she has amazingly used so much less of, in the photos l have seen.

“beef it up for Pakistan”

To beef something up, is to make it stronger, better more secure. The Cambridges are heading off for a Royal tour, let me say that again, A ROYAL TOUR😁 to Pakistan. Security issues have been in discussions and this trips itinerary will be not be as publicized due to those issues. Now it is sounding like, by this clue, that they have had to increase the already planned security measures. There is always the possibility the risk is too great and things would have to be cancelled. That would be a disaster in relationship building but safety first! Remember Harry is #1 on the Taliban hit list and that risk is by extension a factor.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Fantastic! Thank you PG! You are right on your game! So appreciate this!🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

Sep 28th, 2019

————————-

69: Sept. 28

Is this a new thing MM ANON. Two riddles in one Day?🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU MM ANON, ITS SO AWESOME TBE BACK DOING THESE🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

MM Anon

skippyv20

MM ANON …… second son walks alone … bonfires of PR. …… a great rip off … another archificial field trip… a home run …… a lot of backlash back home …… sugar coated photos……… “is it time to go it alone “…… “THE TAPE HAS BEEN SOLD” …… “ for posterity old thing”…… burying it with the rest. ……… 🎼 “ riders on the storm” 🎼

second son walks alone

Our Harry, walks alone, many in the public have been so critical of him, they can’t see the truth or haven’t taken the time to inform themselves. He is our Harry, l don’t care what anyone says, he is a man literally physically fading away, he’s so thin, dishevelled, being with her, l cannot imagine. To me, he deserves a medal for serving to HMTQ ! He has been and will remain in my prayers. Literally speaking he was walking alone in that minefield, or former minefield. What a metaphor for his life eh? 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

bonfires of PR.

I remember being in Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 for Bonfire 🔥 night as we called it or Guy Fawkes day . Old history about Scottish rebellion and a bomb being placed in parliament etc etc look it up, its interesting. Anyhow it’s still great fun in Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 every November. So MM ANON is using bonfires to describe the PR , basically it’s all explosive!

a great rip off

The fee she is charging especially that lunch just using people for maximum cash value. I am positive she has other side deals going on. I recall that last riddle l dud days ago with the clue being diamonds, workers in safety coloured vests, men of colour, a woman at a laptop. You remember it, lead me to think she is sourcing blood diamonds for resale. Everything with her is a rip of, all a grift, capsule collection, using people even a baby for her personal gain!

another archificial field trip

Oh as l said in the other riddle, we are going to see another privately filmed, ore arranged appearance of amw, l bet she is being paid for these appearances. I just hope his socks fit this time and may a pair of shoes, a blanket, a toy/stuffier and a bib or rag for drool.

a home run

Baseball, America’s game. Home run, hit the ball out into the stands, run all the bases until the final base which is called home base and you’ve made a home run. But MM ANON you sly lady🤣🤣🤣, you are not talking baseball. She is going to do a runner and head home! Be gone, be gone, go face the IRS🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂🤣

a lot of backlash back home

Oh my oh my, showing him publicly live in the flesh for the first time in SA and not in the U.K. has lit a match under a huge pile of 🧨 dynamite. She is and has been playing with fire. People are FURIOUS and they already hate her! I cannot wait to hear the boos. I think the English politeness is gone, as MM ANON has said in other riddle, she has made her bed or beds🤣🤣🤣, she must lay in it. But the sad thing is she doesn’t give a whit of care or respect for HMTQ, the BRF nor the public of the U.K. or the Commonwealth!

sugar coated photos

Oh the sugars have literal gone crazier seeing archficial , like Pinocchio is now a real boy, not rubber anymore but flesh and blood. No seeing what’s so obvious, no relationship, the child doesn’t know her, climbing those steps in stilettos , holding him, unsafely, then roughly, tossing him in the air, the look of concern on DT daughter she even put her own arms up lest amw get dropped. Oh heavens how tacky were those cookies, sweets with words written on them, banana-gate2.0!

“is it time to go it alone “

Is the her or him going it alone? I doubt at this point, if Harry ended it, there would still be screams of racism. I think she is padding her nest in SA and planning her post-divorce life. Good luck with that project Rachel!

“THE TAPE HAS BEEN SOLD”

The infamous tossed salad tape sold at last. All uppercase. I am certain either the BRF has it, or a good friend of the BRF has secured it for them and they have it!! Who hoo !! Happy day! 😂😂😂😂😂just reminded me of her abuse of that beautiful song Oh Happy Day. I really wish she took those words to heart, the second line is when Jesus washed my sins away. I want no soul condemned but she has to choose.

“ for posterity old thing”

Again our PP, speaking, saving the video and dossier perhaps for posterity. When you save something for posterity, it means you hold onto it, keep it safe because you never know when you might need it!

burying it with the rest.

Wondering did the BRF buy the video, and just keeping that and all the other things in her dossier burying it in the secret files. I highly doubt they will reveal too much species publicly. The marriage will dissolve as a natural course, she can’t adjust etc etc. The BRF and PH. Publicly have done everything and then some to welcome her, they are spotless in this!

🎼 “ riders on the storm” 🎼

The Doors, classic album. He died in Paris and is buried there, it’s a place to visit for many fans.This is a classic song but dark in lyrics. Speaks of home one is born into poor ie dog no bone, don’t want lyric infringement so l adjusted that. Speaks of a killer , a family dying in a car crash. Speaking in the chorus that a woman needs to love and support her man. Put these all together at , pardon the pun, but they are a perfect storm for describing what’s Harrys life has been and is. Lost his mum is a car crash, his wife born into grifting family allegedly. Certainly getting no love and support from her. Today, well yesterday now, but seeing him sitting where she sat, with the now woman who was the girl she comforted, him all alone by the tree, didn’t you just want to take him in your arms and comfort him? Tears now……

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you dear PG! I am in awe! You are brilliant! A very rough day for Harry I am sure….🙏🏻💜💜💜

Ask Skippy submission

Sep 28th, 2019

————————

70: Sept. 29

💜💜💜🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻THANK YOU SO MUCH DEAR MM ANON, I KNOW YOUR TISK IN DOING THIS FOR US, TO SEEK THE TRUTH AND GET IT OUT IN THE OORN🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻💜💜💜

Did l ever tell you all, l do the riddles from bottom to top? I don’t know why, l used to look at the Sears catalogue from the back too, l still look at magazines back to front. A fun wacky PG fact!🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂

MM Anon

skippyv20

MM ANON …… Cape Town closure ……bells and whistles farewell … on returning, a tour… an unpopular reluctance …… disinformation …… the fence that won’t mend…… club class flying isolation …… Heathrow paps…… no rest for the wicked …… “Hello Boys”…… “He needs a parade”…… “ not another bloody investigation” …… now D&G not H&M. …… cosmetic records!!!! O,no

… Cape Town closure

They officially closed the Cape atone part of the tour and flew out September 29,2019. I was going to say today but l know this is a worldwide blog so l thought l would put that in there. The itinerary has them leaving from Johannesburg, and returning to London. I am sure most of Cape Town citizens had no idea they were there, if they did, no one cared really.

bells and whistles farewell

This whole entire holiday has been just bizarre, her behaviour, a real live baby, was that baby really a boy or just presented as such. We all know the baby shower was for a girl baby, the BRF/LG so so so clever!!! Turned things around that it was a boy baby, that video of them showing amw to a few selected UK and US/CBS reporters was bizarre, at Windsor Castle. She looked so nervous, and PH said they grow so much in two weeks, the glare she gave him!! You know it, you all saw it! Will there be a whiz bang goodie doo? I think likely, paid, bussed in, waving goodbye. I have visions now of O showing up!

on returning, a tour

Oh my goodness, is SS already planning a return trip, as she has been showered with love and praise by thousands and thousands , the crowds have been massive and amazing , kind, amazingly kind, and kind of amazing! NOT!!! I hope you got my attempt at using her favourite words and l tried her amazing kind of word salad, so kind and amazing of me to be so amazingly kind!🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂

an unpopular reluctance

Reluctance means unwillingness or disinclination to do something. She is unwilling in any way shape or form to put celebrity aside and take on her proper duchess role. But this makes sense because there was never supposed to be a wedding let alone a baby. Using the word unpopular putting it mildly.

I do think this may refer to PA and his reluctance or downright refusal to be part of the F.B.I. requests for an interview with him regarding his friendship with JE, GM. and other things like VRG allegations. I do not know how long his refusal can go on.

disinformation

PR PR PR PR constant disinformation. One might use the word lies!! It’s been sickening to see and read in the papers. It has Albee’s thus wth her and it will forever be. Oh l just had to let out a big sigh because it’s so sad, and the baby ring used, disinformation about his age, everything about him is one huge example. There is nothing worse than using a child. Scripture says “Suffer the children to come unto Me, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven “ the exact is

Matthew 19:14 King James Version (KJV)

14 But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven..

the fence that won’t mend…

Mending fences has an obvious meaning, fix a broken fence. However it can be used as a metaphor, fixing a brook relationship for example. I think this is what MM ANON is referring to. Madam, initially when she came on the scene was ‘a breath of fresh air’, marvellously inclusive and welcomed into the U.K. and Commonwealth, and into the ‘family she never had’. Many , including PW had grave concerns. It didn’t take very long for the bloom quickly began to fade. There is ABSOLUTELY NO CHANCE IN A MILLENIA INFINITY! that her relationship with the British public, most members of the BRF, the Commonwealth and many around the world , can ever be mended. It has been irrevocably broken. Complete disregard and blatant disrespect for HMTQ! And a laundry list of grifting, disgusting behaviour, plus her complicated filthy past. No mending of this fence is even wanted, never mind attempted. GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

club class flying isolation

The return flight, again commercial l am sure, back to London should be interesting. She and her team, will again be prattling on about how successful and awesome the tour is, IF BY THE WAY, she and her smuggled alleged living diamond , amw, if she wants baby in London, or just leave is SA. and carry on with dollies. My sentence structure is horrendous but IF BY THE WAY, l meant IF she can get through customs. Do babies need passports, Royal Allegedly babies? Was he sleeping on arrival and she got archficial through that way. I don’t know how, strict customs are with royalty.

On the flight, Harry will be alone, not involved in anything because it’s all about a madam. I noted today how sloppy he looked catching that flight in t shirt and jeans, wrinkled, he has been wearing those ratty brown suede shoes the entire time. He suited up well though earlier and l an certain when he means the High Commissioner he will hopefully be dressed for it. I keep repeating myself, but his looks and behaviour are SCREAMING FOR HELP, HE HAS COMBAT FATIGUE! I am so worried, he’s wasting away, remember the interview when he was in uniform and something urgent was happening, he took off his mic and ran to see what needed doing? Remebhow fit and muscular he was? Look now, dishevelled clothes, those brown shoes😩, looks like he cannot sleep etc etc etc. I know l keep repeating myself but please LG, l know he is getting help behind the scenes, but our Harry is at such risk now, in his depression, l do worry greatly for him!!🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Heathrow paps

Oh my my my my my!!!! The media and paparazzi will be waiting at Heathrow, if that’s where they land, they might be cheeky and land at Gatwick or elsewhere. The media when they return and subsequently is going to be scathing!!!!! Again read her twitters, petal is in SA talk about the Sussexes non-stop but denies being her, petal calls her baby bubs has done for quite sometime. In SA, big reveal, amw nickname is Bubba ☺️☺️☺️🤣🤣🤣. We are not talking about Einstein here! It would be funny if it weren’t so dangerous!

no rest for the wicked

She had all her private things planned during this holiday. Yet she still manages centre stage by foisting herself via IMessage or Skype l think to be with the classroom where PH was in Malawi. All about CAMFED campaign for female education . She just cannot let him go, except when he could have really needed love and support, in Angola, the mine field, him sitting all alone by the tree named after his mum. Oh self seeking narcissistic behaviour, she lives a Master Class of it.

“Hello Boys”

I can’t remember the name of the film, it might be Hello Boys actually! It’s fantastic Bette Midler at her finest, set further war, WWII, she goes on tour to entertain the troops, she would appear on stage all gussied up looking gorgeous and sing for them, she is amazing. Great film! I wonder MM ANON are you relating madams behaviour to the character in the film?? Going on tour and putting on a show!!! I might be way off but that’s a great film!

“He needs a parade”

Support and love for Harry! Agree wholeheartedly! Yes he made a bad choice of bootycall that was his choice,who of us is without sin and can cast the first stone? This was all pre-planned, they would have kept at it, until it worked. I think he needs medals of the highest order for service to the Crown, HMTQ, his granny. He needs away time, months of privacy, therapy, perhaps medication, he ,Ishtar we’ll be on anti-depressants already! HE NEEDS PRAYER🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻. This is evil at work, it’s a nefarious web planned, he was shared in it.

“ not another bloody investigation”

What now? What’s the next thing? Well PA is in a spot of trouble, putting it mildly. He has hired a new PR guy, Jason Stein, former Amber Rudd’s bulldog, lost his job when she quit recently! The paper says he is a ‘master of the dark arts’! The same was said about SS. What are the ‘dark arts’ these PR people use??? Anyhow, there are more accusers , resulting further Epstein investigations in America. The F.B.I. are more insistent upon an interview. The palace statement and PA years ago when this first came up, were emphatic he had NO sexual contact or interaction with VRG. They are not commenting today, read the article in the Daily Mail, if you’re inclined. They are saying, royalty is not an issue, years ago it was swept away. Since the #metoo movement the world has changed. Many many famous men have been charged, Bill Cosby, many famous American media personalities, actors, Weinstein, . This week l was chuffed to hear Wexner been charged in connection with Epstein! If you don’t know Les Wexner, look him up. He’s an American billionaire, one of his many businesses is Victoria’s Secret! Buy from them, you give money to an alleged sexual predator! I am not recalling just now his other businesses, but very very wealthy men have been and are being brought to justice. PA is in serious trouble. The ,ore he refuses to cooperate and scream he’s royalty, he is dragging out the inevitable. Poor poor HMTQ, l just feel so bad for her!

now D&G not H&M

Baby Archie wore H&M to meet DT, which was subsequently marched and appeared officially on H&M advert and website l think website. Now baby Archie will appear wearing D&G. Dolce and Gabbana highend designer Italian clothes. This woman never fails to put a foot wrong. I don’t know if Archie was wearing it while she carried him to catch the plane to Johannesburg , the photos again captured through a clear glass walled corridor. Did anyone else think the ‘baby’ she was carrying looked a lot smaller than amw who met DT? Or was it just me? I would love a side by side photo. Maybe l am totally off.

cosmetic records!!!! O,no.

I am not sure if these two clues go together but this is how they appeared to moi. Are there records surfacing or in possession of the BRF and LG’s team of investigators that show the extent of work she has had done, especially since coming onto the scene with PH? We know something was up at U.S. Open, she had that invisible medical tape over her nose 👃🏻, yes l purposely use that colour of nose! We all have seen her nose appears to be collapsing, those darn hobbies can show up in real physical manifestations ie wide eyed , dilated pupils, agitation, hyperness, just read the twitters feeds that will show you bizarre behaviour, also noted the times tweets are sent!

As far as O, no…..PH is/ has reportedly been working with an O on mental health programs for a fruit tv channel. I have no idea where things are st with that. Is she going to come back on the scene in Africa. I know she has sponsored a school there, where there had to be some firings of l think the administrator , look it up!! I have visions now of her showing up for a surprise appearance with madam. Oh gracious, make it stop! PLEASE😩😩😩😩😫😖😖😖

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦

Thank you so much dear PG! Seems much coming….Seeing your humour and wonderful personality shining through….is wonderful, you are BACK! Thank God for our Dear PG!🙏🏻💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜. Sept. 29, 2019

[the-wlw-cafe]

The Assistant: Part 1 of the Linettiverse

@wlw5eva @little-magic-matt  @mcgrathandwives

The Linettiverse: A supercorp au where everything is the same except Gina Linetti is Lena’s assistant.

To Lillian’s utter disappointment, the new assistant was completely unremarkable. No combative training, no connections, not even a sign of above average intelligence. She wasn’t part of a minority or from a particularly disadvantaged background, so she also wasn’t one of Lena’s pet projects for good publicity. Lillian was utterly disappointed, because of all the capable people Lena could have hired as an assistant, she chose the woman who was leading a dance group called floorgasm.

At least it would make Lillian’s job easier by far.

Lillian Luthor was not used to being kept waiting. She had feigned a cough a grand total of four times, the cough increasing in volume each time. There was not a chance that the assistant (if Lillian hadn’t already looked through every file that existed on the woman called Gina Linetti, the neon sign flashing GINA in all colors of the rainbow would certainly have clued her in about the assistant’s name) had not noticed her standing there. By the third cough everyone on the floor had been alerted to her presence, she knew that by the pathetic squeak and the telltale splash the intern by the water cooler had let out. The assistant had yet to take her eyes of her screen. By the fifth cough, Linetti showed the first sign of acknowledging Lillian’s presence. She sighed.

And she kept sighing.

She sighed for an inordinately long amount of time, to the point where it sounded like someone slowly letting air out of an air mattress.

This was an outrage. Lena must have completely lost her mind, what on earth could have possessed her to hire this woman? A thought occurred to her, then, the equivalent of a bright floodlight suddenly illuminating the ugly truth. Lillian clearly had once again expected too much of her daughter.

It was obvious. This Gina Linetti must have some kind of dirt on her, some kind of sensitive information which had lead Lena to try and keep her as close as possible, since L-Corp could not afford being involved in the disappearance of a woman, not after what the media had done to Lex. As mortifying and telling as it was about the leadership capabilities of her daughter, this piece of information certainly opened quite a lot of possibility for Lillian.

Gina meanwhile had managed to pry her eyes off of her screen, glancing at Lillian with a gaze that could only be described as casually disinterested. Lillian had to swallow down the ire that bubbled up in her throat like vile, acidic vomit at this disgraceful display of disrespect.

Gina Linetti was not a rich woman. In fact, the research Lillian had her professionals do had yielded plentiful information on the assistant’s peculiar spending habits, some of which Lillian definitely wished she could unsee. There were only so many custom portraits of Ryan Gosling riding bare-chested on a tiger made of lightning her sanity could take. The point still stood, however: Gina Linetti was not a woman who could afford to turn down a bribe as large as the one Lillian was offering, and, if Lillian’s research was to be believed, nor was it in her character to do so. All Lillian was asking for in return was information, who Lena was seeing, why, when, where, et cetera. There was no conceivable way this could go wrong.

 “Do I look like the kind of woman that can be bought? Never in my life have I been offended in this way-“

“You are literally shoving banknotes into your purse as we speak.”

Gina did not even have the decency to stop frantically stuffing her knockoff handbag with money; she didn’t even bat an eyelid as she continued shout-whispering in that airy voice Lillian was already beginning to despise, “I am incorruptible! Gina Linetti can’t be bribed!”

Lillian scoffed. She’d had the assistant shadowed for days, moral fortitude clearly wasn’t one of her strong suits.

“I saw you giving away Lena Luthor’s private bathroom key to an intern because he brought you a latte from Starbucks five minutes ago”, she deadpanned.

“I know”, Gina said, in the tone of voice one would use to explain the fact that 2 plus 2 equals 4 to a very, very stupid toddler, “but I don’t see you with a venti, half-whole milk, one quarter 1%, one quarter non-fat, extra hot, split quad shots (1 1/2 shots decaf, 2 1/2 shots regular), no foam latte, with whip, 2 packets of splenda, 1 sugar in the raw, a touch of vanilla syrup and 3 short sprinkles of cinnamon, so scram.”

Lillian blinked. Gina blinked back.

Never, ever, in her entire life had Lillian been told to scram, by a measly glorified secretary no less! She was so taken aback she couldn’t even feel any anger. She just felt like she really, really needed to sit down for a second.

Gina blinked, again. It occurred to Lillian that she hadn’t even reacted to her insult. She opened her mouth, but no sound escaped. Gina made a motion with her hands as if she were shooing away an invisible cat. No reaction from Lillian.

With a frown, Gina turned to the intern next to the water cooler, who had been staring at the exchange for a while now, open mouthed, his cup of water long overflowing.

“Hey, Lucas, how do I get her to go away?”

“Uhmmm…”

“Wow, thanks for your input, you’re useless”, Gina smiled sweetly.

“Listen, I’m just gonna call Miss Lee…”

Miss Lee.

It was the ridiculous nickname that brought Lillian back to the land of the living. Miss Lee. What kind of disastrous, catastrophic insider knowledge did this yapping plebian of a woman possess to force Lena, whom she even though she’d never be a full Luthor had tried and tried again to impart at least some Luthor instincts to tolerate her? As much as Lillian hated every second she had to spend in Gina Linetti’s presence, the information being withheld from her was too compelling.

So if anyone asked, that’s how Lillian ended up ordering a a venti, half-whole milk, one quarter 1%, one quarter non-fat, extra hot, split quad shots (1 1/2 shots decaf, 2 1/2 shots regular), no foam latte, with whip, 2 packets of splenda, 1 sugar in the raw, a touch of vanilla syrup and 3 short sprinkles of cinnamon latte at a Starbucks on the other side of the city, since Gina apparently had an ongoing and exceedingly bloody feud with the manager of the Starbucks just across the street.

She returned, sporting a coffee stain on her pristine blouse and the look of a woman who’d just been through hell, carrying the lukewarm coffee like the Olympic torch. Gina eyed her suspiciously, while greeting the hot beverage with a smile as loving as one would normally reserve for long lost family.

And despite the circumstances, Lillian stood a little taller, because if she now finally found out what the secret behind Gina Linetti’s hiring might be, this whole humiliating ordeal had been worth it.

And, lo and behold, Gina produced from the uncharted dimension under her desk – another spare bathroom key.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lillian hissed.

“One Linetti Special for access to Lena Luthor’s private bathroom”, she shrugged, “it’s all on the Gina’s bribery exchange rate diagram. I can’t take monetary bribes anymore because it looks suspicious on my tax returns, but I still accept latte’s, Beyoncé concert tickets and novelty handbags.”

Automatically, Lillian reached out to take the key, her mind still working overtime to catch up with the madness that had been spewing out of the assistant’s mouth.

“Oh, and one more thing: Miss Lee and actually worked together to create the bribery exchange rate, and the key automatically alerts security if it’s handled by someone other than Miss Lee or me. Weeds out the creeps.”

 As Lillian was escorted out of the building, a novel thought occurred to her:

 Maybe, Gina Linetti didn’t even need to have dirt on Lena. Maybe, she was just good.

[kingofthewilderwest]

A/N Much thanks to @jayalaw for the conversation inspiring this idea!

He said he knew what he was doing. And he meant that, mostly. Sure, he hadn't owned a dog before. But he'd played with his neighbor's pets when he was a child. Those dogs sat; they stayed; they rolled over; they listened; they were wonderful, loyal, obedient companions. He loved dogs! So how hard could a couple days of dog sitting be?

Thus he assured the first lieutenant it would be no problem, she could attend to out-of-town work while he enjoyed a rare weekend off, a rare vacation for just him and Black Hayate.

The weekend would be great.

Hawkeye had given him a surreptitious side glance before leaving the apartment, some suspicious gesture that maybe she didn't believe he knew what he'd be doing. He waved farewell with a confident smile, but at the same time she paused, and with some strange reluctance said, "There's a box of dog treats in the top cupboard. Black Hayate's more obedient with an incentive. But please. Being firm is better. Use those sparingly."

"Of course. The pooch is well-behaved, anyway. Aren't you, boy?"

He knelt down toward the dog, whose tail wagged tentatively, and Mustang said, "Can you shake?"

Black Hayate looked at Mustang's palm. Black Hayate looked at Mustang's face. Black Hayate wagged his tail twice more. Black Hayate cocked his head to one side. Black Hayate did not shake.

Feeling somewhat self-conscious at the dog's lack of respect, and even more self-conscious the dog's owner was witnessing Mustang-brand uselessness, the colonel tried again.

"Shake."

Nothing.

"Shake?"

Hawkeye sighed.

He could certainly detect reluctance in that sigh.

She… didn't believe he knew what he was doing.

"Shake," she said, and at once, BraHa's paw plopped itself on top of Mustang's open palm.

"Uh. Well. See?" He gave an awkward laugh, scratching at the back of his head. "Obedient dog."

Hawkeye's stare was firm, unwavering. "Don't use all the treats, and please don't do anything stupid," she said one last time.

With that, she left the colonel to his duties.

The door closed before him.

He stood in the room alone with one small, innocent puppy, who stared at him with a combination of curiosity and confusion. Mustang, in turn, looked down to the dog, but his expression was one of pouty exasperation.

"You couldn't shake for me?" he whined to the dog. "Not even in front of your owner? Way to make me look bad." Apparently the commanding officer of a military base, who dictated orders to thousands of well-disciplined soldiers, could not garner the same authority for a four month old puppy. "Those were orders, dog."

Black Hayate gave a happy, carefree yip.

"Let's try this again."

It wasn't just to cure his hurt ego, Mustang told himself. It wasn't so he could feel like the smarter species against one knee-high canine. Simply, he needed to get the dog to shake for a logical, level-headed purpose: to make sure that this dog he was watching would listen to him. It was imperative for Black Hayate to understand who the boss was. Standard dog-training procedures. That's all this was.

"Shake."

"Wooooof."

"That's an order, soldier."

"Brrrf."

The dog sat down, but none of this was actually listening to what Mustang wanted. Why didn't the dog care what he had to say?!

Roy eyed the top cupboard, a sly grin pulling up on his face. The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting. Brilliant strategists knew how to employ resources to utmost efficacy. "Oh. Just you wait. Just you wait. I'll win this one, mutt. You'll be listening to me in a minute..."

The treats worked like alchemy. At once the dog transmuted from an idle tail-wagger to a loyal, obedient lackey. Feeling rather pleased and self-important, Mustang with his new-found dog-controlling superpowers convinced the puppy to wear a leash and follow him outdoors for a walk around the block. Being a dog owner was easy. Being a dog owner was magnificent. Ah, yes! He surely loved dogs! The ultimate, loyal followers, man's best friend indeed!

Mild-mannered Black Hayate would pause to sniff at flower beds alongside the sidewalks, creep toward small children who wanted to pet him, calmly follow Mustang's lead toward the nearest public park. The dog didn't tug at the leash. The dog didn't abruptly stop. Outside of their earlier "shake" incident, everything was proceeding perfectly. And if anything else were to go wrong - which it wouldn't, not at all - then Mustang was prepared, the box of dog treats secured tactically inside his pants pocket.

To think the lieutenant hesitated leaving him with this dog!

A break in close-packed buildings and narrow alleys opened to a square of rolling green: one of East City's larger public parks. BraHa perked immediately, even before they had crossed the road and started strolling on the grass. Roy found himself relaxing once they stepped past benches and trees and wandered through the park. Glancing at a stick discarded on the ground, he began to formulate an idea.

"You like fetch?"

He paused for a second, analyzing the situation. This would involve letting the dog go off-leash. But given as BraHa seemed so behaved - the dog was sniffing mildly at Roy's pants pocket even now - Roy couldn't see any harm letting the pup run free.

As the dog licked up a treat in one hand, Roy used the other to clip the leash off.

Just as he was about to chuck the stick, though, something happened.

The dog launched himself away from Mustang, charged at an impossible speed across the lawn, yapping and barking with unadulterated enthusiasm. Roy found himself screaming at the top of his lungs. "SHIT! BLACK HAYATE! NO! NO! BAD DOG! NO NO NO NO NO NO! TREATS! I'VE GOT TREEEEAAAATS!"

Ecstatic dog howls pursued… a terrified squirrel.

A very frantic colonel raced after that. Past couples who stared, shocked, at the gallantly-charging dog sitter. Blundering past children playing ball. Leaping over the basket of one family's previously-peaceful picnic. Darting around other dog owners who calmly played with pups, no issues at all, no squirrels setting their canines barreling off to the other end of the green.

"No no no no no cooooome baaaaack!"

He almost face-planted into soil the second BraHa stopped. Tail wagging, the dog placed front paws against the trunk of a tree. A chittering squirrel hid in the branches above.

Roy gasped for breath.

"Alright… Alright. Leash… back… on…" he decided.

The dog hopped out of reach before he could finish that maneuver. Butt high in the air, BraHa gave a playful growl, then danced away again from the colonel's hand.

Oh. Now the dog wanted to play with him.

Frustrated grin on his lips and teeth grinding under his smile, Mustang dug into his pants pocket. Time for treats. He wasn't giving the dog too many, right? And he needed to catch Black Hayate before…

"Colonel?"

Mustang glanced up.

A tall, blond man, puffing a cigarette in his mouth, stared down at the spectacle between dog and dog sitter. Havoc was standing just a few feet away.

"Oh. Havoc."

"What do we have here?"

Mustang used the distraction as opportunity. With a hoot of success, he clipped the leash to Black Hayate's collar, then stood to greet his subordinate. Hopefully Havoc hadn't seen Mustang's earlier desperate dash across the park. Hopefully Havoc wouldn't notice the grass stains on Roy's knees, either.

"The lieutenant asked me to dog-sit this weekend."

"You?" Havoc said skeptically.

Mustang glared.

"Yes, me!"

"Wow. She's got way more faith than I do."

"I know how to handle dogs," Mustang grumbled.

"Do you?"

Havoc pointed down.

Mustang looked down.

There was a leash. And a collar. But no dog.

Havoc looked out in the distance.

Mustang looked out in the distance.

There was the dog. Another squirrel. Halfway across the park.

"AUGH! Dumb dog!"

And as Mustang charged off again, shouting, hurling dog treats into the air and altogether forgetting to grab the collar, Havoc snorted.

"Pretty sure the dumb one's on the other end of the leash."

Keys jangling from outside came at exactly the wrong moment.

"Uhhhhhh…"

He couldn't say "Wait!" to the owner of her own apartment. She had a right to enter. She had the means of entering. She was entering.

He still almost shouted "Wait!" anyway.

The words caught in his mouth, though. So did all the other words he could have spoken. Even when she piped up with a, "Hello? Colonel?" to find his location, he couldn't find anything useful to speak, and choked on nothing.

She found him like this, dumb and dumbfounded, seated on the floor of the bathroom.

Water everywhere.

Mud everywhere.

Shampoo everywhere.

And a suddenly, completely, perfectly obedient puppy, darting up to greet his owner.

[acdaemic]

some thoughts on crazy rich asians & to all the boys i’ve loved before

i never used to really mind not seeing asians in media. audrey cleo yap expresses it pretty eloquently in her article: “Invisibility doesn’t have a stinging effect as much as a numbing one; you get used to just not being there.” (link) however, after watching crazy rich asians and to all the boys i’ve loved before, i’m realizing how much everyone’s been missing out. now thinking about it, i’m mad that some studios even wanted to cast lara jean as a white girl, and i’m grateful to jenny han for turning down those offers, because i’m thinking about myself growing up smack dab in the middle of nowhere- aka the midwest- in the midst of a bunch of white people (no offense white people). as stupid as it sounds now, i used to really really want blonde hair and blue eyes, because i thought that those features made a girl pretty. when i was 8 or 9, i stopped speaking to my parents in chinese in public because i was embarrassed that i was different, since i had just immigrated from china when i was 5 and i really wanted to fit in. which is SO dumb but i was an 8 year old so i guess it’s understandable :/. if i’d seen those types of movies that had main characters who just so happened to be asian, maybe i would’ve been less of a 大笨蛋 about it.

moving to seattle in my freshman year opened my eyes to what being asian could really mean. the first thing i thought when i walked into my first class was WOW, there’s so many asians omg. and everyone cracked jokes about their asian parents and spoke in chinese freely everywhere and #related over their asianness, which amazed me, coming from a middle school where 88% of the students were white and i had maybe 3-4 (east) asian classmates. and i was obviously mature enough to not be embarrassed about being asian at that point, but it was still a pretty big shock. everyone around me owned being asian, and i was able to too. i didn’t have to deal with snooty, judgy soccer moms in my neighborhood anymore either, which was definitely a plus.

as a clarification, the people in the area i lived in in ohio (a small, relatively affluent suburb just outside the city) weren’t racist, but they very clearly didn’t know the meaning of diversity; one of them even said they had never left the state, which i find VERY hard to believe, but at the same time very easy to believe. i was never called any slurs based on my ethnicity, but the general atmosphere was “assimilate or be judged”. of course, not everyone was like that, but the majority was.

i felt, and still feel at times, a little stuck between cultures. going back to china this year showed me how americanized i’ve actually become, but on the other hand, i don’t know how to set a table and have had maybe 3 casseroles in my life. i know all the words to the star spangled banner and the pledge of allegiance, but i don’t particularly want to give up my current chinese citizenship either. this clash is something i think crazy rich asians absolutely nailed. to quote a common asian american saying, “i’m a banana: yellow on the outside, white on the inside.” :)