#image interior design course

[homunculus-argument]

The absolute height of the unintentional comedy of life that I have seen was in the finnish glass museum. Interior design is one of those things that's kind of a big deal here, one of those things that people who grew up somewhere are surprised to hear that their country is not all that known for. My friends share it in the group chat every time an american movie or show they're watching has a vase, water glass or candleholder in the background that they immediately spotted was by a finnish designer. I took up a whole paragraph to make it clear that this is A Whole Thing here.

Anyway, in the glass museum, one of the displays was a feast table set with the absolute classics, hits and highlights of finnish glassware designs - the absolutely fanciest plates and serving dishes, wine glasses and water glasses, carafes and pitchers. I could pretty confidently say that the entire presentation, if sold item-for-item, cost more than my first car. Perhaps twice as much, easy. An unfathomably expensive, fancy, finest table set of finnish design that you and I are too poor to ever get our hands on.

And on one of the plates was a dead fly.

And I had never seen anything funnier in my life. All these fine dishes and plates all empty, and on just one plate at the end of the table was a dead fly chilling on its back like that was the whole feast. The main course. One single dead fly. A human could not have thought of anything more absurdly funny than the specific location that one random fly had died out of pure happenstance. I fought myself so hard to keep my volume to museum-acceptable levels that instead of laughing out loud I went straight into hysterical gasping with tears in my eyes. I could not perfectly recreate the image from memory, but I can't let you go before I try to sketch it nonetheless:

[crushmeeren]

࿐ it’s kenma’s turn! eijirou’s version can be found here.

⋆ ⬪ happy halloween!!! that’s a wrap everyone! i hope you all enjoyed my kinktober event, although i am a little relieved it’s over. this one isn’t too long, i wanted to end it with some shortish and to the point.

࿐ master list link ࿐ kinktober master list

⋆ ⬪ KINKS/STUFF INCLUDED ࿐ choking, biting/marking, praise kink, rough sex, anal sex, kind of enemies to lovers? it’s a fast paced transition tho, reader is quite feisty in this.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ short summary ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Kenma, according to you, is the laziest and worst incubus you’ve ever worked with. As a succubus, you work twice as hard as he does and still he ends up wreaking more havoc and causing such an insane amount of psychological damage that it causes your blood to boil. When you confront him about it, Kenma’s apathetic as usual. Then he shows you why he wears the crown. What a fool you were.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Kenma this, Kenma that, fucking blah blah Kenma.

The name is seared into your memory at this point, always falling from the mouth of your tight ass boss. “Oh, why can’t you be more like him?”, or “Kenma is our best incubus, why don’t you take notes on how he operates?”

How could you be expected to compete with someone who does no wrong?

You’ve come home with makeup smudged and your body aching more times than you can count, but Kenma never has a hair out of place. The enticing image of your claws slicing through Kenma’s face has your stomach squirming with bloodlust, but a sharp snap close to your ear forces the daydream to drift away.

You come back to the present, shifting your bored expression towards your boss instead burning a hole in the wall. He’s pursing dry and cracked lips, clenching his fists tightly on top of a run down, shabby desk.

There’s not much interior design in hell, after all.

“Did you hear a word I said?”

“Nope.” The tap, tap of your nails on the metal chair rings out and your bosses eyebrow twitches. You’d been tuning out all the nonsense he’d been spewing because you really don’t need another bullshit lecture on how to fuck someone and draw out their energy properly.

He squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly restraining himself from leaping over the desk to strangle you. When his eyes flash back open they’re glowing.

“Why can’t you be more like Kenma?”

Red clouds your vision, expression thunderous. “Don’t you fucking dare say that to me!” Your tail coils tightly behind you as you slam a hand down onto his desk.

Your boss stares at you, unimpressed and unconcerned at your explosive attitude.

“Do we have to do this every single time?” He asks, the weight of the world seemingly pressing down on his shoulders. He sets his elbows on the desk and leans his face into his hands.

“Yes!” You hiss, baring sharp teeth as you lean forward. “You never fucking take me seriously! Stop telling me to be like Kenma! He’s lazy and an asshole!” You spit his name, fury burning brighter as your boss treats you like a child that needs to be scolded. A low rumble starts up in the back of his throat.

A knock on the door interrupts your one sided argument. Whoever it is doesn’t wait for a response before they’re waltzing inside.

“Sure, yeah just come in,” your boss mutters sarcastically, position unchanged. A prickle runs down your spine and you stiffen in your seat when a familiar spicy cinnamon scent floods your nose.

“I’m hurt,” Kenma says in a flat, if not slightly amused tone of voice. “I’m not an asshole.” He doesn’t even attempt to defend himself against the accusation that he’s lazy and your blood boils.

Your boss perks up immediately when he recognizes the voice and your razor like teeth grind into dust from the force of your clenched jaw. Of course he’d be happy the second his precious lap dog shows his face.

“Kenma! What can I do for you?”

You snort in disbelief, crossing your arms over your chest and your boss shoots you a look of warning.

“I needed to speak with you about my next assignment.”

“Of course! Have a seat, we were just finishing up.”

The dismissal is obvious, but you make sure you glare with the force of a thousand suns at your boss as you rise to your feet. The demon cowers underneath the heat of it. You scoff, every muscle tensed as you whip around.

Kenma’s posture is loose and casual, the tiniest smirk directed at you as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His attire suggests he hasn’t recently been out on assignment. Typical. You muster the iciest expression you’re capable of when you look at the incubus, tail flicking agitatedly as you stomp forward.

You refuse to speak to Kenma, roughly shoulder checking him on your way to the door. Your boss calls out a reprimand at your back but you ignore him too and slam the door shut with enough strength to rattle the frame.

Fucking Kenma.

You’re going to give him a piece of your mind the next time you see that pathetic excuse for an incubus.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Turns out, you don’t have to wait long to run into him again.

Generally, you avoid Kenma when you’re both residing at the tower, not keen on running into him, but tonight you’ve gotten unlucky enough to spot him at a bar.

You’d gone topside for the evening, desperately in need of a night to yourself. You’re eager to blow off steam, since your boss’s head is shoved so far up your ass that he can see out your mouth. You search for someone, boy, girl, and anyone in between, to take home and drain dry of their sexual energy.

The bar you wandered into is on the popular side of town. The music doesn’t hurt your ears, and you’ve managed to dance with a few girls here and a few guys there, but none of them get your blood pumping.

You sigh through your nose, shoulders drooping, and decide it’s the best time for a break and head for the bar. Despite what may swirl around the rumor mill, you can get a buzz if you drink enough. You’re pleasantly loose limbed and relaxed when suddenly you freeze, a shock jolting you when you notice the absolute last person you want to see nursing a beer at the bar.

Your body flushes hot within the second, the human disguise you’ve conjured threatening to shimmer and disappear. Your control wavers, tail itching to break free. You steady yourself with a breath, nails digging harshly into your palms to ground yourself. Another deep breath in, a long exhale out, and then your marching towards the incubus.

You come to a stop at the empty seat next to him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” You ask hotly.

Kenma barely spares you a glance. “The same as you, I suppose.” He takes another long sip of his beer, and you can smell the bitter scent, stomach rolling.

“Go the hell away, Kenma.”

He sets his drink down and raises a dark eyebrow. “You don’t own the bar, do you?”

“No,” you grind out, shoulders hiking to your ears. “I was here first.” It’s petty and childish, the urge to stomp your foot growing stronger by the second.

Kenma snorts. “Sure, but there’s enough room for both of us to play.”

His apathetic attitude infuriates you even further, and you raise your hand to point an angry finger at him. Your mouth opens to curse him to hell but he beats you to the punch.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He shifts his head to stare at you, cat like eyes unwavering. His offer is so out of left field that your jaw snaps shut, lips pursing and mouth opening once more as you try to form a response. Your hand drops lamely to your side and you shift from foot to foot.

“You, wait — a drink? What?”

“A drink,” he says slowly as if talking to a child, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Can I buy you one?”

You blink a few times in shock, too confused to be angry by the insulting tone.

“Why?” You drag out the word impatiently. “We hate each other.”

“You hate me. Not the other way around.”

Okay, what the fuck?

“You don’t hate me?” You ask in disbelief, eyeing him warily.

“Nope.” He pops the p and resumes drinking his beer. “So, do you want a drink or not? I can find someone else to offer it to, if you don’t want it.”

You stay silent a moment longer, unsure if he’s making fun of you or not. You wrack your brain to try remember a time he’s ever been outwardly rude to you, like you’ve done to him. There’s an anchor of dread in your stomach when you come up short.

Wordlessly, you slide into the stool next him and order a cocktail, chin raised high. You blame your previous drinking tonight on the way you reluctantly let your guard drop, momentarily allowing your anger to fade. You drink silently for a while, awkward on all accounts until Kenma randomly brings up something about your boss that reignites your rage.

“Yeah well, our boss is a fucking idiot. He never trusts me enough to send me on high priority assignments. Only you,” you sneer, turning in your seat to face Kenma. He mirrors your position. “It must have been a mistake when I got sent on this last one. I finally got something worthwhile and I took it before boss ripped it away from me!”

Kenma stares at you unblinking, contemplating something. “Hmm, no, I recommended you.”

For the second time tonight Kenma has left you dumbfounded.

“What does that mean?”

Kenma shrugs. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

“You, of all people, talked me up to the boss? Why would you do that?” You ask incredulously.

“I thought we already established that the hatred between us is one sided.”

Your nostrils flare, shame blistering your cheeks. “Fucking hell you’re annoying. Do you have a crush on me or something?” You mutter, trying very hard to deflect the kindness he’s showing you.

Kenma snickers at your obvious embarrassment. “You do interest me, and you’re hot. It works out,” he says casually, tilting his head back and downing the rest of his fifth beer in one long drink.

You hate yourself when your body buzzes white hot in response. You really hate yourself for letting your gaze linger on the bobbing of his throat as he swallows, the way the barest hint of his pale collarbones peak out of his shirt, teasing at what could be hidden underneath.

Kenma catches your interested stare, smirking and winking at you. You avert your gaze, face aflame and a rich, thick heat starting to pool in your belly.

“How the fuck are you the best incubus,” you complain, staring a hole into the bar top, weakly insulting your incubus counterpart. You startle when Kenma’s slender fingers grip your chin, gently guiding you to lock eyes with him. His eyelids lower a bit, a soft peachy blush blossoming on his cheeks as his tongue pokes out to wet his bottom lip.

Kenma pushes himself into your personal space like he has a right to be there, warm breath tickling your face when he speaks.

“Let me show you why I wear the crown.”

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Razor sharp teeth sink into the muscle just below your collarbone, Kenma’s jaw locking solidly onto you while you curse and wiggle underneath him. The low warning rumble in his throat stills you.

Kenma’s hands rest on your hips, thumbs rubbing soothingly over the bone there. He unlocks his jaw and licks over the sluggishly bleeding wound. Then he shifts his attention to the other side. You whimper softly when he bites down, eyes fluttering shut and hands curling to fist the sheets below.

He’s pumping your bloodstream full of his saliva, knowing full well it’s going to heighten the pleasure of each sensation he’ll bring you. Your shoulders and collarbones are littered with marks, the pain lessening with each one. You tilt your head, Kenma trailing soft kisses up the side of your throat and over your jawline, coaxing a sweet moan out of you.

“Okay?” He murmurs, leaning back to sit on his calves, sliding a warm hand up your inner thigh. His fingers tickle the sensitive crease that connects there and you shiver. You nod, head heavy in the best kind of way, lids halfway to shutting.

You hum and spread your legs wider so he can get closer. “M’feeling really good Kenma,” you say with a dopey smile and his expression turns fond. His fingers barely touch your clit and your breath hitches, long tail flicking out and curling in on itself where it rests beside you. Kenma’s own tails swishes leisurely behind him, a noise of approval building in the back of his throat.

Two slender fingers spread the lips of your slick pussy before they slip inside with no resistance, curling upwards and brushing the pads of them over your g-spot. Kenma kept his nails short so he wouldn’t hurt you. Your eyes roll back, spine arching, and your hands coming up to fist the pillow supporting your head.

“Kenma,” you gasp, rolling your hips to match the lazy push and draw back of his fingers, coaxing your orgasm to the surface with ease.

“I know baby, your pretty little head’s filled with cotton, isn’t it?” He coos, bringing the thumb of his free hand down to circle your clit. “Fuck, look at you. You tighten up so sweetly around my fingers.” Kenma’s tail makes its presence known, snaking around your thigh and squeezing. The incubus leans forward then, sucking your nipple between his lips.

His teeth tug gently and the force of your orgasm takes you by surprise, stealing your breath and forcing out a cry of his name. Kenma doesn’t let go, flicking your nipple with his tongue until you start to come back down to earth. Kenma frees you with a pop, taking his hand from your clit and curling it around your throat.

He erases the space between you, lips a hairs width away from meeting, hand flexing against the sides of your throat and fingers kissing your g-spot again.

“Give me another one pretty thing,” he murmurs, low voice husky to your ears.

Kenma’s able to pull two more out of you before he’s satisfied. It’s a blur as he clutches at the backs of your knees, one hand sticky and heated, before he pushes until your kneecaps are touching the sheets near your arms. Your thoughts grow fuzzier as Kenma rises to his knees, balancing his weight so he can steady the head of his cock against you.

He stretches you out with one sharp thrust.

The angle slams the tip of cock into where it feels the best, ripping a wail from your chest as you cling to his forearms. He draws his hips back halfway, snapping them forward and filling you out, using his weight to his advantage and pounding you into the mattress.

“Kenma! Fuck! Oh my god, please!” You wail, unsure what you’re begging him for, sharp nails piercing his forearms. Kenma hisses, but otherwise doesn’t react to the pain. He hums distractedly, focusing on making your brain melt out your ears.

Kenma fucks you through one orgasm and straight into another, the muscles in your lower belly taut as a bow while your pussy clings to him. The hot, slick friction his cock creates causes your focus to deteriorate quickly. All the blood in your body pools in your cheeks, head pounding in time with your heartbeat as the pleasure continues to swell until you can’t handle it anymore.

A sharp smacking sound rings out when your hand makes contact with his toned stomach, pushing at the flexing muscles and begging him to give you a break.

“No more, huh? What, is your poor pussy to sore?” He teases, huffing steadily and slowing the roll of his hips. “Who’s the lazy one now?” Kenma pulls out suddenly, manhandling you onto your stomach, lifting your ass into the air and shoving your face in the sheets.

“Kenma, I can’t,” you plead, pussy raw and aching. You clench up when a finger circles your rim, whining loudly as your toes curl.

“How about I fuck your ass then, pillow princess. I bet you’re so tight,” he muses, smoothly dipping the tip of his finger inside you and pulling it back out. With a body made for sex, you don’t need much prep.

“Just, fuck, just be gentle, please.”

Kenma laughs, finger disappearing completely. “Nah, I told you I was going to show you why I’m the king. You know what to say if you want this to end.”

With that, the slick, blunt tip of his cock slides over your rim, catching and allowing Kenma to press forward until he bottoms out. The stretch punches the wind from your lungs, heat searing up your spine.

Your claws rip the sheets, hissing when Kenma grips the base of your tail tightly, using it to pull you back into each steady push of his hips. You’re so full, but so empty, pussy clenching uselessly around nothing. Kenma’s hips continue to bounce off your ass, rim tightening and stretching with each glide of his cock.

Your nerves are frayed, every touch overwhelming. A thousand tiny needles are embedded in Kenma’s palm when he strikes your ass, the searing heat sending a throb of heat through your pelvis. A looming pressure builds behind your bellybutton, pushing on your bladder and your rim starts to flutter.

“Kenma,” you choke out, grasping at the sheets to anchor yourself and help you rock backwards to meet his thrusts.

“What is it baby?” His voice is strained, fingers tightening around your tail. His other hand rests on your tailbone, guiding your movements.

“You’re gonna make me cum!” you warn through your teeth.

“Then fucking do it.”

Your heart jumps to your throat as the tension snaps, heat flooding your veins. Your tail coils unyielding around Kenma’s wrist. Small, choked off whimpers spilling from your lips.

Kenma’s pace turns jerky, thrusting twice more before he swiftly pulls out. His broken moan fills the air you, something warm covering your ass and lower back. He whimpers your name, breathing hard as you collapse onto your belly. You can’t think straight, body pushed to the limit.

You barely register a scratchy material wiping you clean, or being rolled onto your back. Kenma playfully pokes you in the ribs and you groan, batting his hand away and cracking your eyes open. He laughs, his knowing smile softening his sharp features.

“I didn’t take you as the type to stay the night after sex,” he teases, settling down next to you.

“Yeah well, I can’t use my legs, so I’m staying.”

Kenma exhales sharply through his nose. “Then you have to admit that I’m the best.” Kenma bodily shifts you onto your side, arm snaking around your waist and tugging you to his chest. His skin is sticky and sweaty, pulse still thundering against his sternum.

You blindly search for his soft blanket, pulling it up over you both and snuggle further into the furnace of his embrace.

“I think I’m going to need a few more demonstrations before I admit to anything.” Kenma’s rhythmic breathing is lulling you to sleep.

Kenma sleepily agrees, and in the middle of the night, he wakes you up to prove himself again. You let him show you over and over until you’re both addicted to one another.

Only then do you admit he’s the best. Reluctantly.

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Interiors

As a followup to the very popular post on architecture, I decided to add onto it by exploring the interior of each movement and the different design techniques and tastes of each era. This post at be helpful for historical fiction, fantasy or just a long read when you're bored.

Interior Design Terms

Reeding and fluting: Fluting is a technique that consists a continuous pattern of concave grooves in a flat surface across a surface. Reeding is it's opposite.

Embossing: stamping, carving or moulding a symbol to make it stand out on a surface.

Paneling: Panels of carved wood or fabric a fixed to a wall in a continuous pattern.

Gilding: the use of gold to highlight features.

Glazed Tile: Ceramic or porcelain tiles coated with liquid coloured glass or enamel.

Column: A column is a pillar of stone or wood built to support a ceiling. We will see more of columns later on.

Bay Window: The Bay Window is a window projecting outward from a building.

Frescos: A design element of painting images upon wet plaster.

Mosaic: Mosaics are a design element that involves using pieces of coloured glass and fitted them together upon the floor or wall to form images.

Mouldings: ornate strips of carved wood along the top of a wall.

Wainscoting: paneling along the lower portion of a wall.

Chinoiserie: A European take on East Asian art. Usually seen in wallpaper.

Clerestory: A series of eye-level windows.

Sconces: A light fixture supported on a wall.

Niche: A sunken area within a wall.

Monochromatic: Focusing on a single colour within a scheme.

Ceiling rose: A moulding fashioned on the ceiling in the shape of a rose usually supporting a light fixture.

Baluster: the vertical bars of a railing.

Façade: front portion of a building

Lintel: Top of a door or window.

Portico: a covered structure over a door supported by columns

Eaves: the part of the roof overhanging from the building

Skirting: border around lower length of a wall

Ancient Greece

Houses were made of either sun-dried clay bricks or stone which were painted when they dried. Ground floors were decorated with coloured stones and tiles called Mosaics. Upper level floors were made from wood. Homes were furnished with tapestries and furniture, and in grand homes statues and grand altars would be found. Furniture was very skillfully crafted in Ancient Greece, much attention was paid to the carving and decoration of such things. Of course, Ancient Greece is ancient so I won't be going through all the movements but I will talk a little about columns.

Doric: Doric is the oldest of the orders and some argue it is the simplest. The columns of this style are set close together, without bases and carved with concave curves called flutes. The capitals (the top of the column) are plain often built with a curve at the base called an echinus and are topped by a square at the apex called an abacus. The entablature is marked by frieze of vertical channels/triglyphs. In between the channels would be detail of carved marble. The Parthenon in Athens is your best example of Doric architecture.

Ionic: The Ionic style was used for smaller buildings and the interiors. The columns had twin volutes, scroll-like designs on its capital. Between these scrolls, there was a carved curve known as an egg and in this style the entablature is much narrower and the frieze is thick with carvings. The example of Ionic Architecture is the Temple to Athena Nike at the Athens Acropolis.

Corinthian: The Corinthian style has some similarities with the Ionic order, the bases, entablature and columns almost the same but the capital is more ornate its base, column, and entablature, but its capital is far more ornate, commonly carved with depictions of acanthus leaves. The style was more slender than the others on this list, used less for bearing weight but more for decoration. Corinthian style can be found along the top levels of the Colosseum in Rome.

Tuscan: The Tuscan order shares much with the Doric order, but the columns are un-fluted and smooth. The entablature is far simpler, formed without triglyphs or guttae. The columns are capped with round capitals.

Composite: This style is mixed. It features the volutes of the Ionic order and the capitals of the Corinthian order. The volutes are larger in these columns and often more ornate. The column's capital is rather plain. for the capital, with no consistent differences to that above or below the capital.

Ancient Rome

Rome is well known for its outward architectural styles. However the Romans did know how to add that rizz to the interior. Ceilings were either vaulted or made from exploded beams that could be painted. The Romans were big into design. Moasics were a common interior sight, the use of little pieces of coloured glass or stone to create a larger image. Frescoes were used to add colour to the home, depicting mythical figures and beasts and also different textures such as stonework or brick. The Romans loved their furniture. Dining tables were low and the Romans ate on couches. Weaving was a popular pastime so there would be tapestries and wall hangings in the house. Rich households could even afford to import fine rugs from across the Empire. Glass was also a feature in Roman interior but windows were usually not paned as large panes were hard to make. Doors were usually treated with panels that were carved or in lain with bronze.

Ancient Egypt

Egypt was one of the first great civilisations, known for its immense and grand structures. Wealthy Egyptians had grand homes. The walls were painted or plastered usually with bright colours and hues. The Egyptians are cool because they mapped out their buildings in such a way to adhere to astrological movements meaning on special days if the calendar the temple or monuments were in the right place always. The columns of Egyptian where thicker, more bulbous and often had capitals shaped like bundles of papyrus reeds. Woven mats and tapestries were popular decor. Motifs from the river such as palms, papyrus and reeds were popular symbols used.

Ancient Africa

African Architecture is a very mixed bag and more structurally different and impressive than Hollywood would have you believe. Far beyond the common depictions of primitive buildings, the African nations were among the giants of their time in architecture, no style quite the same as the last but just as breathtaking.

Rwandan Architecture: The Rwandans commonly built of hardened clay with thatched roofs of dried grass or reeds. Mats of woven reeds carpeted the floors of royal abodes. These residences folded about a large public area known as a karubanda and were often so large that they became almost like a maze, connecting different chambers/huts of all kinds of uses be they residential or for other purposes.

Ashanti Architecture: The Ashanti style can be found in present day Ghana. The style incorporates walls of plaster formed of mud and designed with bright paint and buildings with a courtyard at the heart, not unlike another examples on this post. The Ashanti also formed their buildings of the favourite method of wattle and daub.

Nubian Architecture: Nubia, in modern day Ethiopia, was home to the Nubians who were one of the world's most impressive architects at the beginning of the architecture world and probably would be more talked about if it weren't for the Egyptians building monuments only up the road. The Nubians were famous for building the speos, tall tower-like spires carved of stone. The Nubians used a variety of materials and skills to build, for example wattle and daub and mudbrick. The Kingdom of Kush, the people who took over the Nubian Empire was a fan of Egyptian works even if they didn't like them very much. The Kushites began building pyramid-like structures such at the sight of Gebel Barkal

Japanese Interiors

Japenese interior design rests upon 7 principles. Kanso (簡素)- Simplicity, Fukinsei (不均整)- Asymmetry, Shizen (自然)- Natural, Shibumi (渋味) – Simple beauty, Yugen (幽玄)- subtle grace, Datsuzoku (脱俗) – freedom from habitual behaviour, Seijaku (静寂)- tranquillity.

Common features of Japanese Interior Design:

Shoji walls: these are the screens you think of when you think of the traditional Japanese homes. They are made of wooden frames, rice paper and used to partition

Tatami: Tatami mats are used within Japanese households to blanket the floors. They were made of rice straw and rush straw, laid down to cushion the floor.

Genkan: The Genkan was a sunken space between the front door and the rest of the house. This area is meant to separate the home from the outside and is where shoes are discarded before entering.

Japanese furniture: often lowest, close to the ground. These include tables and chairs but often tanked are replaced by zabuton, large cushions. Furniture is usually carved of wood in a minimalist design.

Nature: As both the Shinto and Buddhist beliefs are great influences upon architecture, there is a strong presence of nature with the architecture. Wood is used for this reason and natural light is prevalent with in the home. The orientation is meant to reflect the best view of the world.

Islamic World Interior

The Islamic world has one of the most beautiful and impressive interior design styles across the world. Colour and detail are absolute staples in the movement. Windows are usually not paned with glass but covered in ornate lattices known as jali. The jali give ventilation, light and privacy to the home. Islamic Interiors are ornate and colourful, using coloured ceramic tiles. The upper parts of walls and ceilings are usually flat decorated with arabesques (foliate ornamentation), while the lower wall areas were usually tiled. Features such as honeycombed ceilings, horseshoe arches, stalactite-fringed arches and stalactite vaults (Muqarnas) are prevalent among many famous Islamic buildings such as the Alhambra and the Blue Mosque.

Byzantine (330/395–1453 A. D)

The Byzantine Empire or Eastern Roman Empire was where eat met west, leading to a melting pot of different interior designs based on early Christian styles and Persian influences. Mosaics are probably what you think of when you think of the Byzantine Empire. Ivory was also a popular feature in the Interiors, with carved ivory or the use of it in inlay. The use of gold as a decorative feature usually by way of repoussé (decorating metals by hammering in the design from the backside of the metal). Fabrics from Persia, heavily embroidered and intricately woven along with silks from afar a field as China, would also be used to upholster furniture or be used as wall hangings. The Byzantines favoured natural light, usually from the use of copolas.

Indian Interiors

India is of course, the font of all intricate designs. India's history is sectioned into many eras but we will focus on a few to give you an idea of prevalent techniques and tastes.

The Gupta Empire (320 – 650 CE): The Gupta era was a time of stone carving. As impressive as the outside of these buildings are, the Interiors are just as amazing. Gupta era buildings featured many details such as ogee (circular or horseshoe arch), gavaksha/chandrashala (the motif centred these arches), ashlar masonry (built of squared stone blocks) with ceilings of plain, flat slabs of stone.

Delhi Sultanate (1206–1526): Another period of beautifully carved stone. The Delhi sultanate had influence from the Islamic world, with heavy uses of mosaics, brackets, intricate mouldings, columns and and hypostyle halls.

Mughal Empire (1526–1857): Stonework was also important on the Mughal Empire. Intricately carved stonework was seen in the pillars, low relief panels depicting nature images and jalis (marble screens). Stonework was also decorated in a stye known as pietra dura/parchin kari with inscriptions and geometric designs using colored stones to create images. Tilework was also popular during this period. Moasic tiles were cut and fitted together to create larger patters while cuerda seca tiles were coloured tiles outlined with black.

Chinese Interiors

Common features of Chinese Interiors

Use of Colours: Colour in Chinese Interior is usually vibrant and bold. Red and Black are are traditional colours, meant to bring luck, happiness, power, knowledge and stability to the household.

Latticework: Lattices are a staple in Chinese interiors most often seen on shutters, screens, doors of cabinets snf even traditional beds.

Lacquer: Multiple coats of lacquer are applied to furniture or cabinets (now walls) and then carved. The skill is called Diaoqi (雕漆).

Decorative Screens: Screens are used to partition off part of a room. They are usually of carved wood, pained with very intricate murals.

Shrines: Spaces were reserved on the home to honour ancestors, usually consisting of an altar where offerings could be made.

Of course, Chinese Interiors are not all the same through the different eras. While some details and techniques were interchangeable through different dynasties, usually a dynasty had a notable style or deviation. These aren't all the dynasties of course but a few interesting examples.

Song Dynasty (960–1279): The Song Dynasty is known for its stonework. Sculpture was an important part of Song Dynasty interior. It was in this period than brick and stone work became the most used material. The Song Dynasty was also known for its very intricate attention to detail, paintings, and used tiles.

Ming Dynasty(1368–1644): Ceilings were adorned with cloisons usually featuring yellow reed work. The floors would be of flagstones usually of deep tones, mostly black. The Ming Dynasty favoured richly coloured silk hangings, tapestries and furnishings. Furniture was usually carved of darker woods, arrayed in a certain way to bring peace to the dwelling.

Han Dynasty (206 BC-220 AD): Interior walls were plastered and painted to show important figures and scenes. Lacquer, though it was discovered earlier, came into greater prominence with better skill in this era.

Tang Dynasty (618–907) : The colour palette is restrained, reserved. But the Tang dynasty is not without it's beauty. Earthenware reached it's peak in this era, many homes would display fine examples as well. The Tang dynasty is famous for its upturned eaves, the ceilings supported by timber columns mounted with metal or stone bases. Glazed tiles were popular in this era, either a fixed to the roof or decorating a screen wall.

Romanesque (6th -11th century/12th)

Romanesque Architecture is a span between the end of Roman Empire to the Gothic style. Taking inspiration from the Roman and Byzantine Empires, the Romanesque period incorporates many of the styles. The most common details are carved floral and foliage symbols with the stonework of the Romanesque buildings. Cable mouldings or twisted rope-like carvings would have framed doorways. As per the name, Romansque Interiors relied heavily on its love and admiration for Rome. The Romanesque style uses geometric shapes as statements using curves, circles snf arches. The colours would be clean and warm, focusing on minimal ornamentation.

Gothic Architecture (12th Century - 16th Century)

The Gothic style is what you think of when you think of old European cathedrals and probably one of the beautiful of the styles on this list and one of most recognisable. The Gothic style is a dramatic, opposing sight and one of the easiest to describe. Decoration in this era became more ornate, stonework began to sport carving and modelling in a way it did not before. The ceilings moved away from barreled vaults to quadripartite and sexpartite vaulting. Columns slimmed as other supportive structures were invented. Intricate stained glass windows began their popularity here. In Gothic structures, everything is very symmetrical and even.

Mediaeval (500 AD to 1500)

Interiors of mediaeval homes are not quite as drab as Hollywood likes to make out. Building materials may be hidden by plaster in rich homes, sometimes even painted. Floors were either dirt strewn with rushes or flagstones in larger homes. Stonework was popular, especially around fireplaces. Grand homes would be decorated with intricate woodwork, carved heraldic beasts and wall hangings of fine fabrics.

Renaissance (late 1300s-1600s)

The Renaissance was a period of great artistry and splendor. The revival of old styles injected symmetry and colour into the homes. Frescoes were back. Painted mouldings adorned the ceilings and walls. Furniture became more ornate, fixed with luxurious upholstery and fine carvings. Caryatids (pillars in the shape of women), grotesques, Roman and Greek images were used to spruce up the place. Floors began to become more intricate, with coloured stone and marble. Modelled stucco, sgraffiti arabesques (made by cutting lines through a layer of plaster or stucco to reveal an underlayer), and fine wall painting were used in brilliant combinations in the early part of the 16th century.

Tudor Interior (1485-1603)

The Tudor period is a starkly unique style within England and very recognisable. Windows were fixed with lattice work, usually casement. Stained glass was also in in this period, usually depicting figures and heraldic beasts. Rooms would be panelled with wood or plastered. Walls would be adorned with tapestries or embroidered hangings. Windows and furniture would be furnished with fine fabrics such as brocade. Floors would typically be of wood, sometimes strewn with rush matting mixed with fresh herbs and flowers to freshen the room.

Baroque (1600 to 1750)

The Baroque period was a time for splendor and for splashing the cash. The interior of a baroque room was usually intricate, usually of a light palette, featuring a very high ceiling heavy with detail. Furniture would choke the room, ornately carved and stitched with very high quality fabrics. The rooms would be full of art not limited to just paintings but also sculptures of marble or bronze, large intricate mirrors, moldings along the walls which may be heavily gilded, chandeliers and detailed paneling.

Victorian (1837-1901)

We think of the interiors of Victorian homes as dowdy and dark but that isn't true. The Victorians favoured tapestries, intricate rugs, decorated wallpaper, exquisitely furniture, and surprisingly, bright colour. Dyes were more widely available to people of all stations and the Victorians did not want for colour. Patterns and details were usually nature inspired, usually floral or vines. Walls could also be painted to mimic a building material such as wood or marble and most likely painted in rich tones. The Victorians were suckers for furniture, preferring them grandly carved with fine fabric usually embroidered or buttoned. And they did not believe in minimalism. If you could fit another piece of furniture in a room, it was going in there. Floors were almost eclusively wood laid with the previously mentioned rugs. But the Victorians did enjoy tiled floors but restricted them to entrances. The Victorians were quite in touch with their green thumbs so expect a lot of flowers and greenery inside. with various elaborately decorated patterned rugs. And remember, the Victorians loved to display as much wealth as they could. Every shelf, cabinet, case and ledge would be chocked full of ornaments and antiques.

Edwardian/The Gilded Age/Belle Epoque (1880s-1914)

This period (I've lumped them together for simplicity) began to move away from the deep tones and ornate patterns of the Victorian period. Colour became more neutral. Nature still had a place in design. Stained glass began to become popular, especially on lampshades and light fixtures. Embossing started to gain popularity and tile work began to expand from the entrance halls to other parts of the house. Furniture began to move away from dark wood, some families favouring breathable woods like wicker. The rooms would be less cluttered.

Art Deco (1920s-1930s)

The 1920s was a time of buzz and change. Gone were the refined tastes of the pre-war era and now the wow factor was in. Walls were smoother, buildings were sharper and more jagged, doorways and windows were decorated with reeding and fluting. Pastels were in, as was the heavy use of black and white, along with gold. Mirrors and glass were in, injecting light into rooms. Gold, silver, steel and chrome were used in furnishings and decor. Geometric shapes were a favourite design choice. Again, high quality and bold fabrics were used such as animal skins or colourful velvet. It was all a rejection of the Art Noveau movement, away from nature focusing on the man made.

Modernism (1930 - 1965)

Modernism came after the Art Deco movement. Fuss and feathers were out the door and now, practicality was in. Materials used are shown as they are, wood is not painted, metal is not coated. Bright colours were acceptable but neutral palettes were favoured. Interiors were open and favoured large windows. Furniture was practical, for use rather than the ornamentation, featuring plain details of any and geometric shapes. Away from Art Deco, everything is straight, linear and streamlined.

[rafedaddy01]

Could I request a longer fic?

Rafe moving in next door to you with his family.

Y/n inviting him and his wife over for dinner with you and your husband.

Y/n following him into the bathroom and f ing him in there ,while they have to be quiet and quick

Welcome to the Neighborhood

Pt1 || Pt2

-

You were casually unloading groceries from your trunk when you saw the U-Haul truck across the street. It’s been a while since there’s been new neighbors and the kind hearted person you were just had to welcome them properly.

You finished bringing your groceries in and got to work on a pie, blueberry was your speciality. You knew that your new neighbors would love it, they always do.

You raised your fist and knocked three times and waited patiently with a smile on your face as you held up your dessert.

The door opened and you came face to face with the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. His smile was intoxicating, his eyes pulled you in like a siren, you got so lost in his beauty you forgot what you were there for.

You cleared your throat and shook certain images out of your mind before presenting your pie and smiling wider, “welcome to the neighborhood! I’m y/n, me and my husband live just across the street. I noticed you guys were moving in so I thought I’d give you a warm welcome” you handed the man your dessert and he warmly excepted it, his fingers brushing onto yours a little too long.

“Thank you, I’m rafe and this is my wife Olivia.” Rafe introduced himself before opening the door a little wider and down the hall came a beautiful woman. “Howdy, so nice of you to say hi” she beamed at you as she came and stood next to her husband.

“Of course. Well you guys have a great rest of your day, and enjoy the pie” you quickly said your goodbyes and rushed back over to your house. The way rafe was eyeing you made you feel things you’ve never felt with your own husband before. You needed to get away from him, but at the same time your body and mind craved to be anywhere near him.

The next day there’s a knock on your door. You open it to find Olivia standing with your dish sparkling clean. “Good morning! Just wanted to return your dish, thank you again for the delicious pie. It was splendid, you must give me the recipe” she flashed you her white as snow, perfectly straight teeth as she flipped her hair off her shoulder and laughed. You couldn’t help but feel jealous of her, but you didn’t even know why. You were happily married.

“I’m glad you like it. Would you like to come in?” You opened the door wider and she followed you inside.

“Please make yourself comfortable, I’ll make us something to drink” she sat on the island stool as you started making up some lemonade.

The two of talked for hours and you actually found out you have a lot more in common than you thought. Olivia was actually a nice person and you liked her. “Would you and rafe want to come over for dinner tonight? I’m making lasagna” you extended an invite and she happily accepted.

The four of you sat in your dining room, eating, talking and drinking wine. It was fun and you got to know Olivia and Rafe better. They moved down to Texas from North Carolina because of some sort of family business rafe was in and someone needed to manage the company in a different state. Olivia was an interior designer and she had her own online business. They seemed like a normal, decent couple, and your husband seemed to get along with rafe great. They talked about business, golf and whiskey. Those were three things your husband couldn’t shut up about.

As you listened in on Olivia telling some story about one of her clients you felt someone’s foot trailing up and down your leg, you knew it wasn’t your husband because he was sitting on your right side but the foot was on your left side. You looked up at rafe and he was acting as if nothing was going on. As if he wasn’t playing footsie with you while his wife and your husband were in the same room.

His foot went higher and higher, making it harder for you to focus. You wanted to push his leg away and jump from the table and ask him what the hell he’s thinking. But you found yourself sitting quietly and imaging things that you shouldn’t.

“Excuse me, I’m gonna go to the restroom” Rafe said as he pulled back from the table and disappeared down the hall.

“I should probably check on dessert, I’ll be right back” you pecked your husbands cheek before rushing towards the kitchen, only to be pulled into the hallways bathroom.

“What the hell!” You gasped as quietly as you could, “ I knew you’d follow me” he closed the gap between you two, lips connecting and tongues clashing. Rafe picked you up and sat you down on the counter as he stepped between your legs.

Truthfully you knew this was wrong and you should stop it, but your hands had a mind of their own as they reached down and started undoing his jeans. “If we’re gonna do this it has to be quick and quiet” you pulled down his jeans and boxers and lifted your dress before pushing your panties to the side and sliding onto his cock.

“Oh fuck-“ you threw your head back but before you could moan Rafes palm covered your mouth as his eyes seared into yours and his hips started moving. “Shhh, i know, fuck I know. It feels soo good. But we have to be quiet” he thrusted faster as your fingers wrapped around his neck and held on for stability.

“T-touch me, please” you whimper over his hand and rafe nodded before bringing his fingers down to your clit, applying pressure and working in circles as your juices leaked around his cock.

“Holy shit. You’re squeezing me so tight, I’m gonna-“ before rafe could finish his sentence you felt the warmth inside your belly and it triggered your own release as you bit down on your lip and tried to conceal your moans. This was the fastest you’ve ever came, usually your husband would have to do a bunch of foreplay to get you ready but all rafe had to do was look at you and you were drenched.

“Now that’s a proper welcome” Rafe grinned as he pulled out and cleaned himself up.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover

[andrevasims]

McLoon's Home for Wayward Cats: CC-Free Home Business

Victorian-ish home based on the design from Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends! Of course I shrunk & squished it though, to fit it into my beloved 20x20 lot size. And I only referenced the exterior, I took my own liberties for the interior layout.

The idea is similar to my cat cafe lot, where a sim runs a home business using the Electrono-Ticket Machine (there are 2 directly out front) and serves customers dessert for free (otherwise they won't eat on the lot like you would in real life). The open/close sign is in the entryway/foyer.

Alternatively, as the name might imply, you could run it as an animal shelter type thing in the vein of the lot that @antisocialbunnysims made. This would involve using the "Always Accept Pet" mod by Squinge - However, Insimenator is currently down, and I didn't find anywhere else to download that mod from (the Wayback Machine did not have the file itself archived, only the forum post), so... Hopefully Insimenator comes back? lol

There are gates and/or doors in between most things you'd want to block either pets or customers from going into or out of (bedrooms, yard area, etc.).

On the second floor, there are 2 rooms that have food bowls/cat condos/litterboxes, for more spaces like one would have in an animal shelter. I originally made them as bedrooms, but I had more cats than sims so I changed it. You could easily change it back though, depending what ratio of sims versus pets you have lol

Ground / 1st Floor

2nd Floor

3rd Floor

1-3br/3ba | Value: §97,120 | Size: 20x20 | Zone: Residential

RECOMMENDED MODS:

• No Fires from Fireplaces

• Perfect Plants

• Invisible Pet Pillow (make it more likely that cats sleep in condos)

Aaaaaaand of course, what's a Home for Wayward Cats without the wayward cats?

Inside the same .zip folder as the lot, there are 7 cats (seen above). This image labeled with names is also in the .zip folder, so you can pick & choose from there.

DOWNLOAD: SFS | MF | Box

[sovietpostcards]

Russian State Library

The biggest library in Russia and one of the biggest in the world. It was designed in late 1920s, soon after the birth of the new Soviet state, and fully finished in the 1950s. In includes 4 buildings and one 19-floor book repository. There are several reading halls, a cafe, and a whole bunch of book-filled nooks and crannies.

I'm writing this post sitting in the library's biggest reading hall - Reading Hall No. 3. It was opened in 1957 and still retains most of the original furniture and design (only there are now individual power sockets in every desk). Most of the tables are occupied by people with books and laptops. It's very quiet.

The book depository is a huge building that rises high above everything else in this historical area. It had 10 floors originally, each 5m high, but later it was divided into 19 smaller floors. We visited one of the floors. I was impressed to see that the windows are made out of Falconnier glass blocks (made specially for the library in Gus Khrustalny).

There are two automated delivery systems in the library: one delivers readers' orders into the depository (pneumatic tubes) and the other delivers books back to the reader (monorail). We had a chance to see both of them in action, very impressive! They also kept a bit of the old book delivery system that worked from 1953 until 2015. I saw it on pictures before, and it was great to see the granny in real life. :) There are a lot of "grannies" in the library, from the green lamps to rotary phones to wall clocks. The pneumatic tube system has been in place since 1975. People whose job is to preserve books are very likely to preserve everything else.

I loved this anecdote. In one of the reading halls, there's a big painting of Lenin (pictured below). Apparently it was put in place in mid-1950s to cover the bas-relief that was there originally. On the bas-relief there are Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels, Vladimir Lenin and Joseph Stalin. After Stalin's death in 1953 and debunking the cult of personality, images of him were quickly removed from everywhere. The library, being true preservers of history, kept theirs but covered it up. It just shows what kind of people librarians are. :)

Although the library is working on running a full digital catalogue of all their 48 million items, if you want access to older editions you'll probably need to use the old paper card catalogue. The room gave me major nostalgy - I remember using this kind of catalogue in my local library when I was a kid. The sound of pulling out a narrow box, then the little built-in table, going through the cards one by one, writing down what you need on library cards. It was a whole process! Of course, the local library's catalogue was WAY smaller.

A few more shots of interiors. Although the building itself was designed in 1920s (during the era of avantgarde and art deco), the interiors were mostly done in 1950s when the main design style was neo classicism.

I enjoyed this tour immensely, so much so that I had to go back and get a library card so I can see more of it, sit in every reading hall and drink a cup of tea in the marble hall cafeteria. Also, the idea of 48 million books at the tip of my fingers makes me giddy. Thank you to my followers for the monetary support and making this real for me: K. T., H. W., T. B., m., @depetium, @transarkadydzyubin, S. R.

[whenmemorydies]

The Claw, The Scrunchie and The Prayer Card

What - or who - do the hair claw, the scrunchie and the prayer card that appear in season 3 represent? I think I know, and no its not Claire or Mikey. Join me for an unhinged trawl through all 3 seasons of The Bear (with screenshots cos you know I love me some evidence).

A few weeks ago, @vacationship posed a fascinating question about the hair claw seen in Carmy's apartment in 3x01 Tomorrow:

This question branched off into many lovely and thought-provoking discussions including this post from @thoughtfulchaos773 about the significance of hair accessories and this post from @moodyeucalyptus on Catholicism and miracles. Both posts refer to another memento that we are shown in Carmy's apartment, a scrunchie, which we see at the end of 3x09 Apologies:

A particular theory that intrigued me was that the hair claw from 3x01 morphed into the scrunchie we see at the end of 3x09, as one of the many sleights of hand/instances of legerdemain in season 3, potentially indicative of a softening of Carmy's self-loathing and/or guilt (contrasting the hardness and teeth of the hair claw with the gentle grip of the scrunchie). I think the assumption behind this theory was that the hair claw was associated with Claire (in fact we see the hair claw in 3x01 sandwiched between scenes of Claire at home looking forlorn in bed and then later at work in the hospital) and the scrunchie being associated with Sydney as she's often seen wearing scrunchies throughout the series.

I was so intrigued by the sleight of hand theory that I went on a very ill-advised search throughout all three seasons to find these hair accessories (ill advised because it took ages and it meant sitting through every Claire scene in this show lol) I did not find either the exact hair claw or scrunchie (womp) but I did find the characters who'd be most likely to wear these items. Notably, Claire never wears a hair claw or a scrunchie throughout the show.

So who does?

Hair claw: Natalie

(Note: Tiffany is seen wearing a hair claw once in 3x09 Apologies but I think this is just a coincidence. There's no reason for Tiffany's hair claw to be in Carmy's apartment so I'm going to disregard this possibility here. If anyone has a reason why I shouldn't though, let me know!)

Scrunchie: Sydney

Now Carmy's personal interior design style is probably best described as...utilitarian? If that? The man has nails in his walls that have nothing hanging on them. He's got storage boxes strewn around his living space. There's the occasional bottle of painkillers and Pepto and a bundle of hanging herbs drying in his kitchen. And of course, his chef's whites and a large pile of culinary texts and cookbooks. Oh yes and denim in his oven. Other than this, we are not shown much of anything in Carmy's apartment that could be said to be overtly personal to him. Which is why the hair claw and scrunchie stand out. We've never seen Carmy wear a hair claw or scrunchie so their presence in his apartment is significant.

Similarly, there's one more memento we are shown in Carmy's apartment that is distinct from the rest of his belongings. This is the prayer card that Carmy pulls out of his suit jacket pocket and places with the scrunchie at the end of 3x09:

In the discourse of the show, this particular prayer card is often associated with Michael, as its presumed that this is the card that was available for mourners to take at his funeral. We also see it during the show edited next to images of Michael or of his last note to Carmy, reinforcing the association.

Note: I've previously misidentified the figure on this prayer card as St John the Apostle (apologies, I saw the lamb and the staff and assumed it was St John! I'm also not a practising Christian - my knowledge of the religion has been obtained entirely passively because...well I live in the West and my history is enmeshed with the history of European Christian colonisation of the majority of the world including the part where my family's historically from. Soz.). The image on this prayer card is actually "Fresco of Jesus as Good Shepherd" by Josef Kastner.

Prayer card: Richie

BUT...after going through the last three seasons again (much easier to do this time around lol), I've come to the conclusion that the prayer card is actually Carmy's memento of Richie, not Michael. This is primarily because prior to 3x09, whenever we are shown this card in the show, it appears either with, near or when someone is talking about Richie. Lets take a look...

So we first see the card in The Beef in 1x01 before shots of Mikey's body in the morgue and of the back of his head as he's cooking: these are memories Carmy is having while Richie is telling a story to The Beef staff and as Carmy finds his prized chef's knife on the floor of the kitchen.

We see the prayer card next in 1x02 Hands during a nightmare that Carmy is having that features a voiceover from Joel McHale's psychotic Chef Fields. Notably, the sequence of images where we see the card is as follows:

The next time we see the prayer card is in 2x01 Beef to the left of Carmy's head on the wall, when Sydney is telling Carmy that Richie does not have an appropriate certification because...he's Richie.

Later in the same episode we see the card again, after Richie tapes up Michael's Fenway poster (that Sydney had previously fallen through):

The prayer card is immediately followed by a shot of Mikey's last note to Carmy:

The next time we see the prayer card is throughout 2x07 Forks, the most Richie-centric episode of the series. This is because we find out that Richie keeps a copy of the card on his bathroom mirror, so he sees it everyday:

Given the above (i.e. the strong physical and visual association between the prayer card and Richie throughout the show), I believe the card represents Richie for Carmy.

So why would Carmy have a prayer card as a memento representing Richie and not an actual personal item of his brother from another mother/"cousin", like it appears he does for Nat and Syd?

I think this is because Carmy’s connection to both Natalie and Sydney is direct. The former is his sister, the latter his soulmate (I'm not arguing re: Sydney, check my metas if you want to fight). It makes sense that the trinkets he has of them would belong directly to them.

But Carmy's connection to Richie is not direct. Richie is cousin to Carmy because he was best friend to Mikey first. Carmy’s relationship to Richie has always been mediated through his relationship with Mikey. In life, Richie would only be in Carmy's orbit because of his proximity to Carmy's brother. In death, Richie and Carmy have been thrown together because of the restaurant that Mikey left to Carmy but where Richie works. As a result of that forced employer/employee relationship, they're also forced to navigate their grief and mourning for Mikey in close proximity. In this context, it makes sense that the memento Carmy has for Richie is emblematic of Mikey, and is also representative of that shared sorrow between the two of them due to Mikey's passing.

So why does Carmy have these mementos in his apartment?

I'm not entirely sure what the answer to this question is, but my hunch is that these mementos represent the three surviving relationships in this show that are the most important to Carmy but that have all been severed to some extent by the end of season 3.

Carmy's nosedive into Michelin Mode, his psychological spiral triggered by grief, his past traumatic work experiences, his family history, his entitlement borne out of his racialisation and socialisation (among other things) all of this has coalesced into Carmy pushing away those closest to him. He's slipping into that pattern of behaviour he described at Al-Anon in 1x08 Braciole where he cut people out of his life. Carmy doesn't recognise this though because physically, these people are around him all the time. He doesn't realise that you can be physically present but emotionally and mentally AWOL. I mean, the man isn't even physically present for his sister after Natalie gives birth to her daughter, Carmy's niece. He has some explaining and making amends to do! And hopefully we see this next season.

Its likely that the framing of the hair claw and the scrunchie on the show (via suggestive editing) has been a sleight of hand/legerdemain: to get us thinking their presence only has to do with Sydcarmy/Claire. And as I've discussed, the prayer card is widely associated with Mikey. I reckon this is also a sleight of hand too, for the reasons I noted above. Storer and co got us focusing on the romance and dead brother tropes while they continue to push the theme of chosen family home. By the end of season 3, the hair claw, scrunchie and prayer card appear as reminders to Carmy (and us) that he needs to fix his relationships with Nat, Syd and Richie, and that the loss of them is haunting him as well.

And so next season, Carmy needs to move through and past this:

And fight like hell for this:

After all, this show is about love in all its forms, but above all, its about the love we fight for, the love we choose.

Alright chef,

Tagging: @vacationship @moodyeucalyptus @currymanganese @thoughtfulchaos773 @brokenwinebox @espumado @tvfantic87 in case you're interested but keen to hear from whomever wants to discuss!

[survivalove]

Air Temple Island, the Water Tribes & the Real Life Influences that bring them together

I was gonna screenshot a post I saw and add it to my post but I don’t feel like giving that individual attention (and the 300+ notes they got), so I just decided to make my own standalone post debunking this narrative that air temple island is this fully air nomad brothel (yes they said this) with ZERO water tribe motifs which katara is forced to live in until aang passed away.

frankly it just reminded me of how little people in this fandom actually bother to analyze the actual content, instead preferring to write entirely made up scenarios of katara being reduced to an air nomad incubator along with dozens other female acolytes (yes they also said this lmao. also them acting like both male AND female acolytes weren’t living on the whole other side of the island 😭)

when in truth, i’ve come to find a lot of elements of both water tribes as well as traditional inuit elements across air temple island:

1. the paifang

a traditionally chinese element that for some reason is exclusively found in the northern water tribe (why do they have a gate inside a throne room, you ask? ask the white people that made this show). the one on the left is actually one of two aang BUILT, at the main entrance and another at the temple entrance. this is just one example of water tribe design on the island.

2. the bagua mosaic

another structure is the bagua mosaic on the training grounds. bagua is a set of traditional chinese symbols of the cosmology, taoism. the bagua composes of 8 sets of broken or unbroken lines that represent yin and yang. where have we seen yin and yang in the original series? oh yeah, as tui and la of the water tribe! (because atla is a mess of asiatic and indigenous motifs joined together and spread out across each nation, mainly traditionally chinese elements at that.) aang building this right next to the air nomad training grounds is a symbol of the dual bending heritage their children will have.

3. gold and blue accents

now, gold and blue are the main colors of the exterior structures but is also very strong inside the air temple itself. note, the massive air nomad symbol designed fully in blue in the center and the blue banners and rugs throughout the temple. this is no doubt, for me, a visual depiction of both katara and aang’s representative cultures, but of course this is not limited to color only.

4. cloud carvings

now, this is a slight detour since clouds aren’t a significant part of either of their individual cultures (that we know) but i love the kataang monopoly they have on clouds as a couple so i’m talking about it. if you look at these images very closely what do you see? CLOUD CARVINGS!! specifically near the ceiling of the pavilion (left) and the arches and walls of the temple (right) just imagining aang painting and etching these very consistent swirls, like he’ll never be the selfish inconsiderate unromantic loser you people want him to be, but let’s get more into the southern water tribe style interior.

5. interior design

so here is a southern water tribe white lotus outpost vs the air temple island main dining room. first thing, the seat cushions and rug! while we don’t see air nomad eating quarters we do get to see enough SWT customs both in atla and lok, to know this is how they traditionally eat compared to the north (limiting myself on pics cuz mobile).

another thing is the dining table itself. both have what i believe to be built in fire pits (i couldn’t actually tell for the air temple island one cuz of the quality but if you zoom in you can see the lines go in the table plus the hanging kettle on it makes it obvious to me idk). the southern water tribe one however is clear and likely a more traditional version of what aang and katara have.

thirdly, the exposed timber on the ceiling. i actually looked it up and found this is a common element of these two inuit structures: left is an aasiaat peat house and right is an igloolik turf house. all this for me to believe not only did aang build air temple island to be a haven for the TWO of them but also that katara herself had a lot of input on the interior than people care to notice lol.

maybe instead of projecting these loser fantasies of katara being some unwilling air nomad baby making machine so you can feel better about your fantasies of katara living in a red palace with people that tried to wipe her out for a whole century, you all can go study the actual canon you were shown and the real life cultures the franchise takes from.

6. lastly, some of my own headcanons/stuff i want to see in the movie

the bathroom because I LIVE for a white marble tiled bathroom. i just know katara has to have a HUGE tub and they have one of those insane glass showers that can fit like 3 people, with cloud swirls everywhere because aang clearly got it like that

the KITCHEN, i imagine it being timber like the dining room and is probably on the other side behind the built-in shelf (get into the details like hello). in a perfect world, it would be open plan but hey

the bedroom, now we saw it in lok a bit but i wanna see it in the gaang movie too. i’m on pic limit but there’s a lot of artwork and flowers throughout the whole house which i give katara credit for because I can. like the desk, the bookshelf, that fancy looking vase thing? these two clearly have taste like don’t talk to me rn

I also didn’t show the rooms and aang’s study but there’s a lot of blue decor in those places which makes me think katara decorated the whole house, even the acolytes’ hall has blue sitting cushions and columns which i think is such a nice detail.

if you guys have any air temple island headcanons of your own please reply with some i’m feening lol

big shoutout to this user:

atla-annotated (their page is so great and filled with a lot of incredible information if you guys like this sort of stuff)

[iceman-soup]

request!

sorry if you've done this already, but what would Ghost and Soap's first leave together look like? could be sfw or nsfw, everything is up to you

yes yes yesss this is sfw because my descriptive brain took over, also autistic ghost supremacy 🫶🫶

ghost x soap

Simon wasn't ready to meet Johnny's family yet. Hell, they'd only been dating five or so months before deciding to stick with each other on leave, and by that point it was far too stressful and overwhelming to think about meeting a whole bunch of new people to mask around and make good impressions. Ghost needed the time off to re-regulate, and honestly, Soap wasn't up to introducing a boyfriend he had barely warned his mother about beforehand.

So instead the two taxi'd over to Manchester from the airport, arriving at a tiny, cheap flat with even cheaper security cameras dotted on each outside wall and above the front door. "Enough of a deterrent, even if half don't work," explains Simon, seeing Johnny looking around curiously. He unlocks the door and pushes it open an inch, baited breath for a couple of moments as he appears to listen for anything unusual, before opening the door properly, flicking on the warm overhead lights and pulling Soap in by the hand, who gazes at the inside of his flat whilst Ghost locks the door again.

"Dinnae take you for an interior designer, Lt," John grins, glancing at the taller man before going back to admiring the space. It's dusty, sure, but otherwise not quite as awful as expected, and although cramped, holds a feeling of comfort and rest. The two are standing in the kitchen, cupboards naked oak wood and counters hand-painted daffodil yellow, the honey-coloured floor tiles chipped but superglued back together. The image of Si sitting cross-legged on the ground fixing them fills Soap's mind, his heart fluttering at how domestic his lieutenant suddenly seems.

There isn't a wall between the kitchen and living room, and Johnny takes that opportunity to wonder straight through, taking note of a comfy-looking secondhand sofa to cuddle up on together later. An old TV with a jumble of cables is stood upon a coffee table, which simultaneously doubles as an actual coffee table, evident by a few mismatched coasters with just as many water marks as the surface they're supposed to be protecting. Splintering wood in the tried-to-be-aesthetic bare floorboards are covered by a granny rug which contrasts the baby blue walls surprisingly well. Two doors lead off from the living room, and Ghost walks over to the first one, opening it to show the other.

"Bathroom," he comments as if it isn't obvious. There's nothing extraordinary about it, but Soap does notice his unwavering loyalty here and on base to his very specific shower products - of course. He nods and they move on, entering the fourth room. Si hovers at the doorway whilst Johnny wanders inside, taking in the bedroom.

Most of the space is taken up by a double bed pressed up in the far corner, white paint on the metal frame missing in spots, showing its age. The bedding is black with little bone prints patterning it, soft cotton and all matching. Shoved next to the bed is a chest of drawers, one of the handles missing and replaced with a nail bashed into the wood. Hung up precariously on the picture rail over it is Simon's formal uniform - clearly unused for years due to his skilful avoidance of social events. Again, the floor is stripped of carpet (the bedroom in slightly safer condition than in the living room) and the walls are painted, this time a pale pink and dotted with glow-in-the-dark plastic stars.

"Never got them as a kid," Ghost mutters, gesturing to the stars and then the general soft colours of his flat. He shuffles awkwardly on his feet, avoiding eye contact - and subsequently his boyfriend's loving smile too. "You want something to eat? I don't have anything," he adds quickly.

"We can go doon to the chippy?" John suggests, walking over to kiss him tenderly. "Or if you don't feel like seein' people, I could order us something." The taller man nods at the second option, then proceeds to wrap his arms around Soap's waist, burying his face into the crook of his neck and pressing his lips to the skin, simply savouring his warm embrace.

"I love you, Johnny. I'm happy you're here."

The next few days go by far too quick for either's liking. They're spent with long mornings just laying in bed, doing fuck all on their phones in the oddest cuddle positions known; alternatively, smothering each other in hugs and kisses until they have to give them attention until they're satisfied. Time is spent plodding around the flat, wearing pyjama trousers and fluffy socks and with blankets draped over their bare shoulders.

Meals are cooked with very little skill but a whole lot of try, so at least that's something. Neither go out much; just to the shops when they need something or one night to get fish and chips from the good place across the street. They eat sitting on the countertop or the sofa, watching some shitshow with a laugh track that winds Simon up.

Evenings involve making out during conversation, quietly murmuring and laughing between kisses, chests pressed together so their hearts can talk directly. Ghost realises he's never felt so safe and content on leave before this one night when they're lying in bed, a dim lamp the only light in the room as he runs his fingers through Soap's hair, now slightly curly from growing out whilst not on base. It's quiet, but not in the lonely, terrifying way it usually is when he's alone in the flat, left to his own thoughts for however long between deployments.

Maybe, just maybe, leave will become something that he doesn't dread anymore. And perhaps next time - he thinks, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's forehead and flicking off the lamp - it might be nice to meet Johnny's family.

[kimsohn]

it takes 2 to mango

pairing . beomgyu x gn! reader (ft. yunjin of le sserafim) about . 12.2k words, fluff + angst warnings . cursing, a lot of food mentions, kissing, mentions of murder/dying (it's all jokes), y/n is in denial half the time (about beomgyu and mangoes), it took me like 2 months to write this so it may be all over the place i'm sorry in advance

synopsis . after your parents drop you off at your aunt's, leaving you with your whole life packed in bags, all you can do is wonder when you'll finally be able to get back to your old life. except, of course, when a brown-haired boy makes you wonder if staying here isn't so bad after all. note . literally after 2 years of delay and many plot changes it's finally here!! happy (late) birthday @urmelo, i told you i would write it and it's here (albeit two months late but wtv). also i literally wrote this whole thing based on this image but halfway through i realized he's sitting in a classroom so my whole broadcast idea was stupid 😞 and this is slightly inspired by all of us are dead and f4thailand! i stole the mango pun from google tagging . @invuwrld @tocupid @mmmsvnts @seung-scrittore

You have never loathed mangoes more than this moment.

It’s only been a couple of hours since your parents dropped you off at your aunt’s house, your whole life packed into suitcases and a Hello Kitty backpack you’ve owned since fifth grade, and you’re already sick of this situation. You don’t even understand your parents’ thought process, because who would even leave their whole life behind to start a mango supply business in Thailand, and you’re even angrier at your aunt for encouraging it. Now, you’re forced to leave behind the comfort of your old life and start anew in the four walls of your new house, miles away from your parents and old friends.

You even hate the stupid smile on your mom’s face when you agreed to their plan. At least you’ll be somewhat rich when your parents decide to come home, however long that might take (hopefully it’s within the next five minutes or so).

“Y/N, let me know if you want to paint your walls, okay? Your uncle loves interior design, so he’ll be happy to organize your room.”

In your old house, your walls were a bright, cheery yellow. Now they’re a boring beige, reminiscent of the hospital walls you’ve always hated. It’s okay though, because now yellow will remind you of mangoes, and you’re just about ready to hurl something at the mere thought of the fruit.

“It’s okay Auntie,” you respond, tracing your finger across the indents of the walls, “I kind of like the beige.”

Your cousin Yeonjun snickers from behind your aunt, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. Yeonjun is definitely the type to hate beige because even his personality shines a bright red flag. Even now, he’s on his phone, probably flirting with (code word for annoying) some poor soul.

“Okay, honey. Yeonjun can help you finish unpacking, and then he can take you to school so you can find your classes. Tomorrow is your first day, after all, I don’t want you to get lost.”

With that, she closes the door behind you, leaving the two of you in your drab room with no personality. Instead of helping you unpack, Yeonjun sits on the chair in the corner, typing away with no care in his mind.

“I thought you were supposed to help?” you huff, though it’s not angrily.

Even though you and your cousin were friends, at first forcibly due to your family relations and later willingly because he’s actually quite interesting, you know that he won’t hesitate to note whatever he can to have leverage over you. Already, he’s taken a picture of your backpack, and if he helps you unpack, he’ll definitely find the shark plushie you brought for the sentiment. It’s not out of malice; it’s just the way your relationship is, however annoying it may be.

“Like you need my help,” he scoffs, crossing one leg over the other as a means to get comfortable, “just let me know when you’re done.”

You survey the mess of your belongings scattered across the bed. It’ll probably take hours, if not days, to sort out properly, and even you are itching to leave this stuffy room and get some fresh air. You’ve sorted out what you need for the next few days, so you might as well revisit this mess later.

“Actually, we can go now. I kind of need a break anyway.”

“Goody-two-shoes Y/N needs a break? Are you in your rebel era?” he jokes, but he opens the door and sticks a leg out, leaving it open for you to walk through.

You smack him on the shoulder as you walk to his car, sitting shotgun and itching to put your feet on the dash. You’re an average kid and you do average things, but you’re not in the mood to argue and correct your cousin.

“Just shut up and drive.”

You kind of wish you stayed at home because even mangoes wouldn’t survive in this environment.

Actually, there’s nothing wrong with your new school. It seems even more modern and spacious than your old one, and it has way more amenities than you could even imagine. You can see yourself fitting in here quite well, and since Yeonjun is popular, it’ll be easy to make friends.

The only problem is that the air conditioner isn’t working today, which means it’s extremely hot in the building. The hot sun outside paired with the lack of cool air means the whole building could resemble the Sahara Desert, and you wish you’d worn something more fitting for the weather, like the tank top Yeonjun has on right now (although, he seems to have other motives for wearing it). The sweat beads trickle down your forehead, and the only thing saving you right now is the popsicle your cousin was kind enough to buy for you. Unluckily, the gas station only had the mango flavor left.

“Yeonjun, are we done yet?” you ask, although it sounds more like a plea as you trudge along the hallways.

“Actually, no. We still have the science hallway, and the math hallway, and—”

A shrill noise fills the air, and you cover your ears shut and watch Yeonjun’s popsicle fall from his hands. Startled, the two of you find stability against the wall as the sound disappears and is replaced with crackling noises.

“Fuck, my popsicle!” Yeonjun exclaims, looking extremely disappointed as he grabs a tissue and cleans the mess up.

“Forget the popsicle, what was that? It’s a Sunday, who’s playing with the speakers?”

“It’s probably the media team preparing for the week’s announcements. Come, I’ll show you the broadcast studio.”

Yeonjun’s flip-flops squeak across the floor as you two walk, and in a matter of minutes, you reach a bright blue door next to the auditorium. Big block letters indicating which room it is are engraved on top, and Yeonjun knocks on the door repeatedly until it opens.

“I knew it was you,” a blue-haired boy answers, “you’re the only one annoying enough to knock that many times.”

“Hey! You should’ve answered faster.” Yeonjun protests as you giggle, glad you’re not the only one who finds your cousin annoying.

The boy pouts as he lets you two inside, and immediately you feel like you were cast into a recording studio. Shelves of CDs and books fill the sides, and behind the glass panel, a room full of microphones and levers peeks through. You feel like Radio Rebel in her bedroom, only intensified, and as you check out the large computer screens that line the walls, you find yourself imagining sitting in the center and being a part of whatever goes on behind the scenes here.

Your eyes cross over a brown-haired boy sitting at the table, headphones covering his plush hair and a teal highlighter in his hand. He’s looking down at a piece of paper, probably a script, and unknowingly you’re leaning forward to get a better look at his face before Yeonjun taps your shoulder and you straighten yourself.

“Y/N, this is Soobin,” Yeonjun gestures to the blue-haired boy, “and that over there is Beomgyu,” he continues, pointing to the boy at the desk.

Soobin smiles warmly, shaking your hand awkwardly as if this was a courthouse and not a classroom, but your eyes are more focused on Beomgyu. They’re focused on the way he taps the highlighter on his lips when he’s deep in thought, or when he adjusts his headphones when he’s satisfied with something. Yeonjun moves to interrupt him, probably to introduce you, but you hold him back so he can continue his work.

 “Are you interested in joining?” Soobin asks, handing you a flyer, “we could always use more people.”

“I’m not that much of a speaker,” you respond, taking the handout anyway.

“You don’t need to be. We do more here than just talk, you know?”

As Soobin waves you goodbye, you take one last glance at the room, particularly Beomgyu, before you step out. You don’t know for sure whether you’ll join the club or not, but you have a feeling that you’ll be seeing him around pretty soon.

You might hate your alarm clock more than you hate mangoes, but at least it’s useful.

It’s the first day at your new school, but you’re not really jumping for joy. School is school wherever you go, and you don’t really feel the excitement or jitters someone would usually feel after transferring. You’re just about ready to pass through the rest of the year as smoothly as possible and hopefully not gain unwanted attention as the resident new kid. You’re already suffering enough by joining after a whole semester; you don’t need to bring any more trouble to yourself.

“Y/N, are you ready?” Yeonjun yells from outside the house, revving the accelerator so you can hear his annoyance.

“Coming!” you yell back, grabbing your bag and rushing out the door, holding a half-eaten piece of toast and a glass of orange juice.

Yeonjun likes to go to school a little early so he can talk to his friends, but this was a fact you didn’t know until five minutes ago. In an ideal situation, you wouldn’t have been rushing on your first day, but your cousin never makes things easy for you. At least he didn’t drive off without you.

Yeonjun attempts to lecture you about your lateness in the car, but you tell him to pay attention to the road and stuff the toast in your mouth. One thing you won’t let your cousin disturb you about is food, so you’re glad he calms down and lets you enjoy a peaceful ride to school.

You’re finishing your orange juice as he pulls into the student parking lot. He has a spot reserved for him, apparently, and the fact seems to be true as he parks in the space with “YEONJUN” decorated in bright red spray-paint letters. He puts on sunglasses as he exits the car, and you’re extremely glad he doesn’t have fans swooning over him in front of his car because you don’t know how much more you can take. Who does he think he is?

Thankfully, the air conditioner seems to be working this time around because as soon as you enter through the front doors, a blast of cool air hits you in the face. It’s only January, but the sun outside doesn’t seem to be taking a break this week, so you’re grateful for the human wonder that is A/C. Yesterday’s empty halls are now filled with students, and already Yeonjun is dragging you off to introduce you to some new people. You’re just glad he has pink hair because otherwise, you would’ve lost him.

By the time you reach your first class, your mind is riddled with names of people you’ll probably never talk to again. You’ve met at least three Jaehyuns, a Yunjin and a Yujin and another Han Yujin, two Jisungs, and many more students you definitely won’t remember. If you were on your own, it would’ve taken you a whole year to talk to this many people, but with a semi-superstar by your side, it only took ten minutes. You’re just glad your presence seems to be well-received.

Your first class is math, and already you find yourself falling asleep. A stack of books finds its way onto your desk, a textbook for everything you could need, and you can foresee yourself sleeping in to skip this terrible class. The only good sight about this class is Mr. Kim, who’s nice and tries to be entertaining, but there are only so many ways you can make numbers and formulas fun. At least the girl sitting in front of you, Yunjin from earlier, helps you pass the time by doodling her number on the margins of your notebook.

Bored and half asleep, you trudge your way to your second class, history. You’re grateful your cousin helped you find your way across the school yesterday, because your class is across the school in a corner you wouldn’t have even known existed. Unlucky for you, Mrs. Jung isn’t as nice or entertaining as Mr. Kim, but just before you can succumb to slumber, the intercom buzzes.

The morning announcements play, but instead of Soobin’s voice, you hear someone unfamiliar.

“Hey everyone, happy Monday! It’s the beginning of the week, which means we have a long road ahead, but I believe in each and every one of you to get through it. We’re only a couple of weeks from break, which is an exciting thought to look forward to…”

You realize halfway through that the voice is Beomgyu’s, and you don’t know what it is about his voice, but it seems to be perfect for starting off the announcements. He seems to be tasked with maybe a desperate attempt to cheer up the student body on a dreary Monday, but they seem to be doing the job because you feel much lighter than before the announcements. Others seem to feel the same way too, because the atmosphere in the once stale, cornered history classroom is now bright and jolly. You honestly wish you had listened to the full script he had prepared, but either because of your previous fascination or his soft, honeylike voice, you find it hard not to be lulled to dreamland.

After, he's followed by Soobin, who talks about the daily updates and the weather, and you wonder how he manages to sound so upbeat and cheery this early in the morning. He then passes the mic to a boy named Taehyun, who voices important announcements and leads the school pledge before the mic crackles off.

You can’t stop thinking about Beomgyu for the rest of the class period, so when he slides into the empty seat next to you halfway through the lesson, you think you must be imagining things. It’s like he’s glowing, as if a dreamy filter spans across his face. You stare at him until he stares back and raises an eyebrow, a quirk to show his feelings of confusion. He throws a rolled-up piece of paper at you, and when you catch it, you realize he’s very much real.

Bit by bit, you unfold the paper, and in scratchy handwriting, he’s written ‘Am I that interesting?’ in all caps. Your face feels like it’s on fire, and you tuck the paper in between the crease of your notebook, filled with doodles of Beomgyu’s name. You quickly shut it, hoping he didn’t see it, and avoid his gaze for the rest of the period.

Unluckily for you, fate doesn’t seem to be on your side because as soon as the bell rings, Beomgyu is reaching out to grab your elbow. You think you’re utterly and absolutely fucked, and you’re even more mortified when he links elbows with you and leads you out of the classroom.

“What’s your next class?” he prods, and you only answer after he asks a second time because you’re too embarrassed to register anything.

“English, with Mr. Yoon. Look, I’m sorry about before, I thought I was dreaming—”

“Dreaming? Are you in love with me or something?” he asks, and even though the question is accusatory, his smooth voice makes it sound like music to your ears.

“No!” you exclaim, a little too loudly that you have to apologize to the teachers standing in the hallway before continuing, “Look, I was falling asleep in Mrs. Jung’s class, okay? Since the seat next to me was empty beforehand, I thought you were a random daydream that I was making up to distract myself. I genuinely didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with my staring or anything, I just didn’t know you were real until you threw that ball at me.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” he responds, his features softening at your explanation, “her class is pretty boring anyway. You’re new here, right? Yeonjun’s cousin? I’m Beomgyu.”

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. You’re a little weird, you know that?” he remarks, laughing as he walks you to class.

You look down at your linked elbows and his goofy skipping. His observance is contradictory, but somehow, his weirdness is a little endearing to refute.

“Yeah, but you’re a little weird too. We cancel each other out, I guess.”

As soon as you step into the production room, you’re cast with the smell of mangoes. Seriously, those damned fruits seem to be following you, and you can never seem to escape them.

“Y/N! Hi! Welcome!” Soobin greets, ushering you into the room and grabbing you a seat, “We’re so happy to have you.”

It’s the next Thursday, a week after the dreaded daydream incident, and you’ve decided to show up to the broadcast meetings. You’ve been toying with the idea of joining ever since you walked into the room on Sunday, but it was Beomgyu’s insistence yesterday that really pushed you over the cliff of uncertainty.

“We have a lot of fun there. You don’t even have to speak on the morning announcements to be a part of it! We do much more than that, like run the newspaper and manage the yearbook. There’s a place for everyone, Y/N, you won’t regret joining.”

Even now, he waves warmly from the seat next to you. You’ve been talking frequently these days, partially because he’s in quite a few of your classes and partially because he’s part of a group chat Yeonjun added you to. He’s interesting to talk to and he always makes you laugh, and being around him makes you feel warm and fuzzy. Like your initial observance, he’s a little weird and goofy too, but it makes him all the more delightful.

You’re not crushing on him, of course. He’s a nice person to pass the time with during and after school. Besides, your friends at home are much better; he’s just a placeholder.

“Have some cake, Y/N!” Soobin insists, pushing a plate toward you, “It’s mango flavored!”

You smile hesitantly as you pick up the spoon and take a bite. It tastes good and you hate admitting it because mango is a good flavor; you just don’t like being reminded of the sentiment that comes along with it. You gaslight yourself into thinking it’s strawberry and finish the plate quickly, downing your water bottle straight after.

“Was it good?” Beomgyu asks, his voice a little hard to hear due to the conversations of next week’s script being tossed around behind him, “I got it from a bakery near my house. We actually have a snack at every club meeting, and this week was my turn to bring it.”

“Yeah, it was good. I’m just not really fond of mango,” you respond, already cringing at the words coming out of your mouth.

“You don’t like mango? Who doesn’t like mango?” Beomgyu voices, responding exactly how you expected him to.

“Me. I just don’t.”

Beomgyu drops the topic at your insistence and talks about the club instead, introducing you to some of the members. Taehyun, the boy from the announcements, is president, and Soobin is vice president. You learn that Beomgyu does a little bit of everything, and you try not to smile as he blushes when his friends list out his talents.

“Is Yeonjun not part of the club?” you ask after he’s introduced you to one of the many Jaehyuns part of the management team, “you guys seem to be good friends.”

“He was initially, but he has modeling lessons on Thursday so he can’t make it. He’s more like an honorary member, to be honest, but he helps us out a lot.”

You hum in agreement, meeting another Jaehyun (why are they all so attractive?) and rounding the corner to talk to Taehyun.

“I’ll leave you with Tae. He’ll help you figure out which team you’re best suited for.”

Taehyun pulls out a chair for you as Beomgyu walks away, and you can immediately see why he’s president. He’s a little reserved but he’s domineering, and he seems perfect for managing things behind and in front of the scenes.

“So, Y/N, did you have anything in mind when you were joining?”

“No, not really. I’m not very talkative though, and I don’t know how to handle a camera.”

“Yeah, Beomgyu also mentioned those things. I think you’ll be a good fit for the newspaper, based on first impression. Editors mostly work on the scripts and I think you’ll find it interesting. Come, I’ll introduce you to the head.”

He introduces you to Yunjin, the girl from your math class, and she helps you get the editing software and drive set up. Yunjin tells you that she’s the type of person who has a lot to say, and writing is a powerful outlet for her because it allows her to explore topics she’s passionate about. You don’t exactly know if you relate to her thought process, but it does make you feel a little excited.

“Is Beomgyu also part of the editing team?” you ask, mainly out of curiosity because you saw him revising the script on Sunday.

“Ah, kind of. He floats around between everything so I guess I could say that he is. Would you like to read some of his work?” she asks, pulling out a newspaper article from a stack in the corner, “Last issue, he wrote the front page spread dissing the school lunch menu. It might seem silly, but it was actually a huge hit, and honestly, the food has even gotten better since.”

You skim through the newspaper, and the interactive, colorful parts draw your gaze in. Elements like the pie chart, bolded words, and quotes make the article worth reading, and you can already tell from skimming the text that Beomgyu is a good writer. You flip through the rest, reading the story headlines and noting that some are serious, some are current, and some are merely just for entertainment. Even throughout the rest of the spreads, you can tell the writers put effort into making sure the newspaper is actually catered to the student population, and you can already imagine yourself publishing an issue of your own in the near future.

“Since you’re new, you can help Beomgyu out with his new piece. Let’s take things slow, okay?”

You nod, turning to face Beomgyu. You don’t know what’s going on in that fascinating mind of his, but you’re excited to find out.

It’s been a busy few weeks since you’ve moved here. Unfortunately, school doesn’t slow down time for you, so you’ve had to handle piles of schoolwork on top of adjusting to your new environment, at school, and at home. Your aunt, for one, is double the amount of hyper your parents were, and it’s taken you a while to get adjusted to her presence. At least you’ve had Yeonjun to help you out.

The one thing that you’ve actually looked forward to at school is the broadcast club. Taehyun was right about you fitting the editor role, and you’ve grown to fit in quite well with the other members. Mainly, however, you spend most of your time with Beomgyu, often looking over his shoulder and bouncing off ideas he has and grammatical errors he needs to fix. The issue is a little satirical, making it fun to read, and you’ve enjoyed helping him out because he actually values your input and your experiences.

It's the reason why he invited you to come to school on Sunday. He thought working in a quieter environment would help you two brainstorm better, and you agreed. You’ve been busy all week working on collecting student opinions for him, and today, he hopes you two can get a significant portion of the article complete.

Unlike the first Sunday you were here, the air conditioning is actually on now, but you still feel a little sweat prickling at the top of your forehead. You’re nervous because this is the first time you’ve actually been alone with Beomgyu, without anyone else nearby to mitigate your nerves. You’re scared about screwing up in front of him, or even worse, floating off into dreamland, but hopefully, you’ll be able to concentrate on your work and keep your thoughts at bay. If anything goes wrong, you can just blame it on his sweet voice.

You’re at least thankful Yeonjun hasn’t caught wind of how you two met, because he would never stop holding it over your head.

You knock three times on the blue door and Beomgyu pulls it open, wearing a bright grin on his face. He’s in a hoodie and sweats, a little bit more casual than his school attire, but somehow it just makes him more attractive. Combined with his dimples, he resembles a teddy bear, and you’re honestly surprised he hasn’t joined the modeling industry like your cousin. He’d make so much money as a loungewear model, you just know it.

“Hey, come in! I just got here, so I’ve been working on some scripts for the next week. You can get your stuff sorted while I finish.”

You nod, pulling the papers out of your bag and opening your laptop. Your mission for the week was to interview students regarding the article. You don’t know if he’ll like them, but hopefully, you’ve got some good anecdotes for Beomgyu to include in his writing.

Or, apparently not.

“Beomgyu.”

“Hmm?” he asks, looking up from his paper.

“I accidentally grabbed Yeonjun’s bag. I left the data at home, I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe how stupid I am; how could I even forget something this important?”

“Hey, Y/N,”

“I just knew something was going to go wrong today, and I was so scared I was going to fuck things up and I did, and—”

“Y/N!”

You stop in your tracks, eyes wide and close to tears. You’re usually not this sensitive at all, but this means a lot to you, working with Beomgyu means a lot to you, and you don’t want to lose all of this over your stupidity and inattentiveness. However, Beomgyu looks far from angry, and he has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them to calm you down.

“It’s okay. You’re all good. We have so much more time until the deadline, so don’t beat yourself up, okay? We can just hang out and have fun. Look, I even brought you some mochi from the corner store!”

He shows you the packet, and the bright yellow color is enough to have you burst into tears.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, looking at the packet, “it’s mango flavored. Oh! You don’t like mango. I’m so sorry, it slipped my mind. Forgive me?”

You sniffle, bringing him into a hug. The mochi wrapper crinkles between you as you put your head on his shoulder, clutching onto him as a means to calm you down. Beomgyu stills for a moment, probably out of shock before patting your back, albeit awkwardly yet reassuring.

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I didn’t mean to have a breakdown like that. I just didn’t want you to hate me. And I’ll eat the mango mochi, don’t worry.”

“I could never hate you, Y/N.”

“You’ve only known me for a couple of weeks; how could you say that?”

“Because even in the short time I’ve known you, I can tell how much of an amazing person you are. You’re bright and talented, and I love spending time with you, so stop apologizing, okay? It was just an accident.”

“Okay, I will,” you whisper, stepping back, “So, what now?”

“We could finish the mochi, for starters.”

You nod as you open the wrapper and take a bite. It’s tasty, so much so that you hate it, and you’re honestly five seconds away from letting go of your stupid grudge just to enjoy some fresh mango. However, your parents have plagued you enough with the fruit on their phone calls, which seems to hold your desires back well enough.

You stand to your feet as Beomgyu beckons you to follow him, wanting to show you something. He lets you in through the small door leading to the glass panel room, and you’re immediately illuminated by the huge screens around you. So much technology surrounds you, from microphones to switches to headphones, but you’re more intrigued by the feedback noise that emits once Beomgyu twists a knob, similar to the one you heard when you first got here.

“Does it usually make that noise when you turn it on?” you ask, walking around the room.

“Yeah, it’s a little bit annoying. That’s why we have to keep it turned on before school starts.”

“I figured. I heard it when I came here with Yeonjun before my first day.”

Beomgyu turns to you with an expression of mild surprise.

“I think Soobin and I were here that day. You should’ve visited us.”

“We did. We talked to Soobin, but you were working on something so we didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Is that why you thought I was in your daydream the day after?”

You feel like you’re on fire, and you look away from him. You didn’t expect Beomgyu to be this perceptive, but it was probably your fault for walking straight into this.

“Umm. Yeah, kind of. It’s embarrassing,” you say, covering your face with your palms.

“It’s not,” he responds, tapping your shoulder, “it’s actually kind of cute. Now that you’re in this room with me again, will I be in another one of your daydreams? I loved feeling like a celebrity.”

You mentally shrivel in humiliation, cringing when he lets out a laugh. If Yeonjun is a tease, then Beomgyu is most definitely a menace.

You are extremely close to falling asleep.

Currently, you’re sunbathing on one of Yunjin’s many beach chairs. They’re colorful and the sun shines ever so gently on your face, so the setting is perfect for you to take a nap. Too bad you’re at a pool party and not in your backyard, and Yunjin just might murder you if you drift off to dreamland after all the hard work you’d put into setting things up.

It’s spring break, which means one whole week of warm sun rays and well-needed rest. The newest issue of the magazine was published yesterday, and particularly this time around, it seemed to be quite popular amongst the student population. The group decided to throw a party to celebrate all the hard work that’s gone into publishing, and what other location would it be at than Yunjin’s gigantic mansion?

You’re particularly proud of Beomgyu’s hard work because his spread was absolutely stunning, but he merely brushed it off and thanked you for helping him when you thanked him earlier. He can be calm and graceful like that at times, like a soft breeze. Now, however, you turn to your side to see him sipping a mocktail on the chair next to you, donned in sunglasses and shark-decorated swim shorts, the farthest thing from serene.

“What flavor is that?” you ask, your voice tinged with sleep, “Actually, never mind. It’s probably mango.”

He laughs, and it’s so, so pretty. If you had to pick one sound to hear for the rest of your life, you’d take your chances on that.

“It is, but it’s kind of watery. I’m gonna save it for later though,” he starts, turning to face the pool and pointing at Taehyun.

“What about him?” you ask, craning your head to see him lounging in the pool with a duck floatie.

“If I cannonball into the pool, just how drenched do you think he’ll be?”

Your cries are practically unheard as you watch Beomgyu jump into the pool, absolutely obliterating not only Taehyun but also poor, unsuspecting Soobin next to him. Ten minutes later, after receiving a well-deserved scolding from Taehyun and issuing apologies, Beomgyu slogs his way back to the chair on your left with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“That was definitely worth it.”

“It definitely was not,” you counter, sitting up and leaning against the back, “you’re literally such a nuisance. If I had known you were this terrible, I would not have become friends with you.”

“I mean, you technically didn’t choose. You can’t really help who you daydream about, right?”

You’re glaring daggers into him, but he’s cruel enough to still find the situation funny. You can’t believe he’s trying to hold back laughter even in this situation, but you probably shouldn’t have expected any better. Seriously, how did he go from the sweet-talker broadcast boy to the literal devil?

“Watch your words, or I will slice you up as I did to all the mangoes in Fruit Ninja last week.”

“Woah, chill,” he starts, putting his sunglasses back on and taking a sip of his watery mocktail, “why do you even hate mangoes? You talk about them as if they were your exes.”

“My parents left me here to start a mango business in Thailand,” you say, picking at the skin next to your thumbnail and wincing when it hurts.

Beomgyu spits out his drink in alarm, but you kind of saw it coming. You’ve noticed that he tends to exaggerate things a lot, but you guess it’s just part of his personality.

“Wow, that genuinely sucks. I’m really sorry; I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“It’s okay. I don’t tell people because it’s only temporary. I might not even be here next year.”

Two months ago, you would’ve been happy at the thought. Now, however, even mentioning it brings a pang of sadness to your chest. You’ve known your time here was momentary all along, so why do you feel guilty?

“Are you happy?” he says, his voice a lot quieter now, “I mean, would you want to stay here or go back?”

You want to tell him what you think is logical, and logically, your old home was much better than here. You practically grew up there, and the place suits you so well that you’re meant to be there. However, the words that rush out of your heart speak differently.

“I honestly don’t know. I like it here, but I like it there too. I’ll just enjoy my time here before I leave. I still have a while anyway.”

Beomgyu flips to the other side, away from your gaze before he speaks. If you weren’t listening carefully, you might’ve not been able to hear his words.

“I don’t want you to leave. I like it when you’re here.”

He sounds so soft and clingy that it almost makes you cry. Instantly, you know that no one has ever cared enough to share the same sentiment back at your old house.

Home. You should’ve called it home, but it doesn’t feel right anymore. You used to think that home was a physical feeling, a place where you were raised and nurtured. Home before was the walls of the building you spend the most time in, but now, it feels a little different.

No, home isn’t your old house. It isn’t your new house either, even if the beige has grown quite well to your liking. Home is sitting here on this beach chair, surrounded by your closest friends, and the feelings of warmth that surround you all. Home is an emotion, something you’ve never felt in the past years of your life until you moved here. Home is being surrounded by people who want you, just because you’re you and not because it would be convenient.

“I like being here too,” you whisper back, and although he has his back turned to you, you can still feel his smile.

“Then just tell your parents you want to stay here.”

You can’t tell him that your mindset has made you feel that this is all temporary. Ever since you moved here, you’ve felt like a ticking bomb, waiting for a single phone call to determine your fate. Once, you would’ve been able to answer that it’s where you belong. Now, you seem to question if it’s merely just an obligation.

“It’s not that simple, Beomgyu.”

He sighs, and as he turns back around to face you, you drape an arm over your eyes. You don’t want to feel the intensity of his glare, but even without your vision, you feel his eyes shooting daggers into your abdomen. If only life were as easy as being able to sense Beomgyu’s responses, for you would’ve been sipping margaritas on some island with your talents.

“Isn’t it? Or maybe, just maybe, you’re overcomplicating it.”

You sigh, unwilling to answer, and the conversation falls to a standstill. You hate thinking, especially about this, but eventually, Beomgyu’s words are going to catch up to you. Whatever the implications of this conversation are, you’re sure you won’t enjoy them.

Not one bit.

You’re walking home with Beomgyu a couple of days after break has ended, an unfamiliar scene for you. Usually, Yeonjun drives you home in his shiny car, but he had to stay back for some tutoring today and you were left ride-less. Thankfully, Beomgyu swooped in to save the day, saying he’d keep you company since he knew the route. You’d accepted quite freely, definitely because you didn’t want to rely on Google Maps and not because you liked spending time with him.

Spring is in full season, which means the walk home is filled with greenery and a lush breeze. You feel like something out of a Studio Ghibli movie, but as you turn to look at Beomgyu, you realize he’s more aptly fitted for the scenario.

His hair is fluttering slightly through the wind, and his side profile is so perfect that only an animation artist could’ve crafted it. Beautiful is the only word to describe him, and each glance you take becomes increasingly hard to look away from.

You like him. It’s not a realization that’s come from this moment, but rather a million moments beforehand. Whenever you try to pinpoint an exact moment, your mind runs blank, as if you were pre-programmed to have him in your heart since the beginning of your existence. You’d just been so immersed in convincing yourself that you didn’t that you never really accepted you did.

“Y/N,” you hear from his lips, “are you going to the spring dance?”

The spring dance is next week, and it’s all everyone has been talking about lately, especially Yunjin. Honestly, if the Jung Jaehyun asked you out (yes, you can finally differentiate between the multiple Jaehyuns), you wouldn’t shut up about it either, but you don’t have any interest in it otherwise. The only updates you hear are when you don’t tone out Yunjin in math (there’s only so much you can hear about his features), and you’re growing quite sick of the talk.

Mainly though, you’re just annoyed you have to go without a date. A certain someone always pops up in your mind when you think about the event, but you’re too shy to ask and he seems to be preoccupied with other things. Even if it’s going just as friends, you’d take the chance, but it doesn’t seem in your cards for the near future.

“Yeonjun is forcing me to. I’d much rather spend my Friday nights with a show, but it is what it is.”

“Oh, come on!” he protests, shaking his head, “it’s always super fun. You won’t regret coming.”

“I guess, but I don’t really know who to go with. Yeonjun has a date, and I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

Beomgyu fishes something out of his pockets and holds it out to you. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s a rectangular mango drink, and you raise an eyebrow.

“I know, I know, but it’s still driving me crazy that you hate mango. I want to be the person that changes your opinion on it, okay? Whenever you think of mango, don’t think of your parents, think of me!”

You roll your eyes as you grab the drink and punch the straw in. You don’t want to admit it, but the gesture is sweet, and already your negative thinking is rewriting itself to include positive memories with Beomgyu.

“Whatever,” you say, attempting to take a sip out of the straw only to find it stuck, “is there something wrong with your straw? Mine isn’t working.”

“No, there isn’t,” he replies, confusion settling across his face, “is it blocked? There might be something inside.”

Sure enough, you peek through the hole to see something white stuck in the straw, and you try your hardest to pull it out with your fingers. The texture is a little rough and thin, almost paper-like, but sadly you fail to get it out.

“Can you actually not get it out?” he asks, looking worried.

“Yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll just get another straw after I get home.”

“This cannot be happening right now.” he mutters, grabbing it from you and trying his hardest to squeeze out the object, “Of course I fucked this up.”

“Beomgyu, it’s okay. Relax. It’s not that big of a deal,” you respond, trying to calm him down after seeing him get this worked up, “it’s just a drink.”

“But it’s not! Ugh,” he says, frustrated as he pulls out his phone, “you were supposed to be able to pull out the paper.”

“What are you talking about?”

He passes over his phone to you, and there’s a picture of a small piece of paper on it. When you zoom in to get a better look at the writing on it, you gasp.

“It takes two to mango, so will you be my partner?” you read out loud, looking at Beomgyu.

He smiles awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders.

“You’re asking me to be your date for the dance? Oh my god, yes!”

You hug him tightly, pressing your head into the crook of his shoulder. You don’t know if his intentions behind this are friendly or romantic, but the mere thought of being together, even just for a night, has you reeling. You feel so, so giddy as if you’re already on the dance floor and swaying in his arms.

You feel him sigh in relief, hugging you back.

“I’m so sorry I fucked up everything. It was supposed to be super cute—”

“Don’t worry about it. Even if you just asked me the question, I would’ve been happy. It was so creative though; how’d you come up with it?”

“I, um. I searched it up,” he replies, and you hear the bashfulness in his voice, “I just wanted it to be meaningful enough to us. I know that it’s unoriginal, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Even just you researching to find something this creative is meaningful to me.” you answer honestly, “I’m saving that straw forever, I swear.”

He laughs, and you feel his chest vibrate against you. It’s a comforting feeling, one you’ll hopefully experience at the dance next week.

“I’m so excited. I can’t wait,” he whispers, pulling you in a little tighter.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, holding onto him, “Me too.”

The dance is a little lame, but being here with Beomgyu makes it worthwhile.

Seriously, if you’d come alone, you probably would’ve ended up sitting in the corner and munching on the brownies (they’re actually tasty, you can’t even deny it). However, Beomgyu has made it his personal mission for you to have fun, which is why he pulls you onto the dance floor to vibe with the beat of the song.

“This is so high school,” you mutter, feigning annoyance, “what song even is this?”

“I think it’s ‘Good Boy Gone Bad’ by TXT.”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

“Who cares? Stop being a downer and let loose a little.”

Contrary to your dislike, you do end up dancing. The song has a peppy beat and the two of you lose yourself in it, but even as you forget all of what occupies your brain, Beomgyu still remains in your head.

You’ll never forget the sparkling expression on his face when he saw your outfit as he picked you up from your house or the way he turned up your favorite song as you sped along to the venue. You would pay a million dollars just to relive that moment again, laughing at each other’s singing and enjoying each other’s company, but you realize that you don’t need to experience past moments with Beomgyu when he constantly makes better memories with you. With Beomgyu, you like living in the present, and he makes you forget about special days in the past you had coined as ‘the best day ever’ because nothing could compare to the feeling of being by his side like this.

The song ends, leaving you all woozy and excited, but the feelings quickly shift away when a much slower beat starts playing. You don’t even have to ask for the song name, because Beomgyu is already whispering it into your ear.

“’Fairy of Shampoo’ by the same artist. They’re pretty good, right?”

You move to nod, but the action is long forgotten as Beomgyu wraps his arms around your waist. He’s staring you in the eyes, a silent request for permission, and your response is wrapping your arms around his neck in a similar manner. You sway, and Beomgyu follows your lead, but this time around, the only thing you’re losing yourself in is his eyes.

The soft, angelic singing and chatter around you are muffled as if everyone in the room has disappeared except you and Beomgyu. You’re in a trance, with the perfect feeling of his arms around you as if they were always meant to be there. It’s so easy to will yourself away from everything to focus his gaze that you should be concerned, but one look at his eyes can confirm he’s in the same boat.

Maybe friends can ask each other out to dances. Maybe friends can slow-dance together. However, you find it hard to believe friends can look each other like this in the eyes and pretend they don’t feel anything.

Before you know it, the air grows hazy, and the only thing that makes your vision clearer is leaning in closer to Beomgyu. Or maybe that’s what’s making you crazy in the first place, but you don’t care because you’re trapped in the magnetic pull he emits that drives you closer, and closer, and closer. You’re close enough to notice the small moles on his cheek and the faint cologne he wears that smells like jasmine. You can’t even tell if you’re moving anymore because the only action you’re focused on is the fluttering of his eyelashes and the pursing of his lips.

It takes your brain a while to register what he says next because his voice is husky enough to be covered by the music, but the mere fact that his voice dropped three octaves has your mind spinning.

“Do you want this as badly as I do?”

Your throat is so parched you can’t even speak, but you don’t need words to imply what you want. You nod, the tiniest nod that if he wasn’t so focused, he wouldn’t have seen it, but his eyes are solely on you and that’s enough confirmation for him. The last thing you see is him leaning dangerously close before your eyes flutter shut, but the moment is ruined as your phone rings from your pocket and startles you both.

You fumble with the device as he clears his throat, leaning back, and with wide eyes, you see that it’s your mother calling. You’re cursing her mentally for calling at the worst possible time, but one look at Beomgyu has him motioning you off the dance floor.

“Take it; it’s probably important. I’ll be right here.”

You smile tightly before rushing off the dance floor, finding a place near the entrance that’s much quieter than the center. From this position, you have a straight view of Beomgyu in the middle, but you’re blocked by a sea of people surrounding him. It reminds you just how many obstacles you have between each other, and you mentally berate yourself for being so careless and almost kissing him before answering the phone.

“Hello? Mom?”

“Oh honey, hi! Your Auntie told me you were at some school dance, are you having fun?”

“I am,” you whisper back, just now realizing how much you miss your parents sending you off to these dances, “but I miss you a lot.”

“Actually, I called you about that!”

“What do you mean?”

“Our business here is doing so well that another company wants to buy us and give us a huge amount of shares. This means we can move back home and still make a profit!”

Your mom goes on about the logistics, but all you hear is white noise ringing through your ears. You knew this moment would creep up on you, but you just didn’t expect it so suddenly, especially after sharing such an intimate moment with Beomgyu. God, Beomgyu. How can you even begin to tell him?

“Mom, I have to go.”

“Of course, you must be busy! I’ll call you later, okay?”

Your fingers shake as you cut the call, tears brimming at the corner of your eyes. The room feels hazy once again, but this time, it feels suffocating. Your cheeks feel hot and you have no idea what to do, and all you can feel is Beomgyu’s gaze staring at you from across the room, boring into your eyes. All you can think is that he knows, and he hates you, and he’s going to feel so betrayed—

“Y/N? Are you okay?” you hear, and Yeonjun steps in front of you, blocking the connection between you and your crush.

“I- I need to go home. Please.”

You’re glad Yeonjun knows when to not be a nuisance, because all he does is nod wordlessly and clasp your palm, leading you to the car. You’re thankful that your cousin is actually a nice person deep down because he’s ditching his date and dropping his many it-boy moments just to take you home and let you cry on his shoulder. You try so, so hard not to look back because you know you’ll break down, but you can’t help what your heart wants. As you turn and make eye contact with Beomgyu, you see his confused and betrayed expression as he pushes past the people on the dance floor, but the crowd is too large, and he’s stuck between the masses. It’s bitter how these people once reminded you of obstacles, and now they’re exactly that, but you’re thankful because you’re sure you won’t be able to stop the tears if he talks to you right now.

As Yeonjun whisks you away in the dreary night, all you can hope is that Beomgyu remembers only the good moments between you, and not the worst. Maybe one day, just one, you hope he’ll forgive you, even though you know that you’ll never forgive yourself.

You have no heart to even attempt the history homework sitting on your desk.

It’s only been a week, but you feel like you went through five years of trauma from it alone. If it weren’t for Yeonjun, you would’ve locked yourself in your room the whole week and finished a bucket of ice cream. Instead, you showed up to class every day, draped in an oversized hoodie and making no means of eye contact with anyone. Any time you encountered Beomgyu, you tried your hardest to avoid it, even going as far as bargaining with your teacher to switch seats in history.

The only person you even talked to this week was your cousin. He was the only person you could confide in, probably because he was the only one who truly understood your current predicament. It’s silly, depending so much on the person who could use this as blackmail at any moment, but you have to say you’re a little grateful for him dragging you to school in the morning instead of leaving you to allow in the four walls of your bedroom.

However, even the motivation from Yeonjun can’t stop your bleeding heart. You feel like you’re going through hell and back, and with exams coming up your mind just isn’t in the right place. How long are you going to keep your homework sheets sitting on your table void of pencil markings? Even the mere act of reading the instructions has you tired, and all you can do is rest your head against the table and try not to let your thoughts drift off.

Even this homework reminds you of him. It reminds you of how you would goof off during your lectures, texting each other through the crevices of your desk, or how you would sit for long hours in the library and attempt to study, kicking each other’s feet beneath the table. Even now, you can hear him knocking on the door, asking you to open up and talk.

“Y/N, it’s Beomgyu!”

Okay, maybe that part isn’t your imagination.

Why is he even here? What business would he even want with you after you’ve wronged him so much? Your mind has no idea, but the only thing you’re listening to is your heart as you pull open the door and take in his presence.

He looks beautiful, like always. His existence is something that you want to cuddle into a ball and put in your pocket, yours to keep and cherish forever because he is simply the word soft personified. Today, however, he sports dark circles under his eyes and a paler shade of skin. What has made your teddy bear so sad? Is it your doing?

“Hi,” you whisper, and your hands itch to reach out and wrap him in a tight hug.

“Yeonjun told me what happened. I wanted to give you some space, but it’s torture without you.”

Now you’re confused. Why is he showing up at your door and giving you comfort? Isn’t he the one who has been wronged this whole time?

“You mean, you’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be? It’s not your fault you need to move back. Sure, I’m sad about it, but this isn’t something you can control, right?”

Now, nothing stops you or your conscience as you wrap your arms around him, furrowing into his familiar scent as tears escape your eyes. You’ve done a lot of hugging recently, but this time, it feels like an eternity has gone by. You never want to let go of him or this moment, and you can even feel your mind memorizing every aspect of this moment.

You guess Beomgyu makes you feel that way. Mind and heart combined, with no conflict.

“You always know what to say,” you point out, sniffling.

“I’d hope so; I have to do it every Monday.”

You laugh, although it’s choked and dry from your crying, but as your head moves, you hear a crinkle from his back pocket.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, um,” he starts, grabbing the object out of his pocket, “they’re mango popsicles. I was going to try and bargain with you if this didn’t work out.”

“Hmm, well, I’m not really convinced yet,” you joke, motioning him to follow you and sit on your bed as he rolls his eyes.

Silence ensues for the next couple of seconds as you both open the wrappers and enjoy the delicacy. The flavor doesn’t even bother you anymore, because now when you think of mango, you think of Beomgyu. You think of his sweetness, his humor, and his bright sunshine personality that matches the color of the delightful fruit.

“Oh, Y/N, you have some juice dripping down your chin,” Beomgyu notices, pointing to the area.

“Where, here?” you ask, patting the left side and feeling its dryness, “or a little higher?”

“No, I- here,” he says, leaning closer with his thumb and brushing off the liquid.

You want to thank him, but as you look up into his eyes, you realize how imperceptibly close you two are. Suddenly, you’re thrust back to a week ago when you were in his arms, leaning into each other until you could feel his breath upon yours, but this time, there’s nothing stopping you. No phone, no crowd, and most importantly, no insecurities come between you two now, and your mind is clear as you lean in and latch your lips upon his.

If you were unsure of what mango meant to you before, you’re definitely sure it will remind you of Beomgyu now, because all you can taste is the mango on his lips. It’s like your mind has gone into overdrive as you move closer, and you can vaguely register him using his free hand to palm the back of your head and tilt it up. The atmosphere doesn’t feel hazy anymore; instead, it feels shy and awkward, as if you were two lovers learning the world together. Like everything with Beomgyu, it feels right, just so right, and you never want to leave because you are his wholeheartedly, and he is yours.

Until you register what’s happening, of course.

You pull away quickly, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Beomgyu’s lips are puffy, and you’re sure yours must mimic a similar appearance, but that’s the least of your worries.

“Beomgyu, I—”

“I love you,” he breathes out, and his voice is light and airy as if he can’t hold in the words anymore, “I love you so much that it kills me you’re leaving. I don’t know how to fix this pain, but what I can say is that I’ll try my hardest to be by your side. Every day I’ve spent with you has been the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, and being without you this past week has made me realize how much light will disappear from my life if you leave. I’ll take you in any way you’ll let me, even if it’s through late-night calls or sparse texts. Please be mine, please.”

He's begging you now, holding your hands within his and clutching tightly, but even the words you want to say are trapped in your throat. You can’t do it to him. You can’t force him to love you thousands of miles away and look forward to you when he has a whole future ahead of him. You may be burdened by the ghosts of your past, but he isn’t, and you can’t deprive him of the one thing that makes himself him: his sunshine.

“I’m so sorry Beomgyu. I can’t put you in that position.”

Even the tears that once hesitated to fall now escape freely as he nods, cradling your cheek. After all that’s happened, he’s still so understanding, and even though he has a tight smile on his face, he keeps on a brave front for you.

“I knew you would say that. It’s okay, we can just enjoy the last of our days together.”

“Don’t hold yourself back for me, alright?” you whisper, wiping the stray tears that you don’t want him to see.

He notices the tear stains on your cheeks anyway, wiping the wetness with the pads of his thumbs. You notice he doesn’t respond, but at this point, he doesn’t need to. Even though you’ve warned him against it, you know without a doubt that he’ll always be waiting for you, even with all your uncertainty.

The last bell of the year rings, but as your classmates bustle around you with joy and laughter, you don’t know what to feel.

Moving is a funny concept. You leave behind everything you know just to start anew, but unlike most people, you’ve finally gotten the chance to go back to the past. Your old friends, your old family, your old life. Months ago, you would’ve jumped for this opportunity, as many others would in your situation, but now you’re experiencing a bittersweet emotion. You can’t even deny it: this place has had a tremendous impact on you through the experiences it put you through, the people it made you meet, and the emotions it caused you to feel. Even just thinking about going away leaves a pang in your heart, but you suppose life is about these occurrences, whether they’re sad or happy, and you’ll just have to persevere through it like you always do.

You’re walking out to the parking lot when Beomgyu joins you. You’ve still been talking even after the dreaded incident weeks ago, especially since you studied together for exams, but your relationship since you rejected him hasn’t been the same. It’s like you’re tiptoeing around with each other, waiting for one another to break, but you’ve already broken before so you don’t know why it feels so fragile. Maybe it’s the tension in the air around your departure or the lack of definition within your relationship, but either way, it feels suffocating.

At least you’re grateful he hasn’t shut you out yet.

“So, how was your last day of school?” you hear, but this time you focus your eyes on the ground instead.

It feels too weird to look at him. It’s like you don’t have permission to admire his beauty anymore, so you rarely ever make eye contact with him. Instead, you focus on the gum he’s chewing, the one you know is mango-flavored but always so bitter. Maybe it was a sign you two were never meant to be.

“It was good. You know, tiring as always, but I’m glad it’s over.”

“Yeah, I get it. Are you going back home soon?”

Honestly, your parents haven’t been super transparent with you, but from their calls, you assume that you still have well into the summer before you move out. They sound busy wrapping up things, and they haven’t given you an exact date, but they have promised you they’ll be here soon. Like all things in your life, even your parting is uncertain, and that’s what you tell him.

“So, what I hear is that I can still terrorize you over the summer.”

You laugh, but it’s forced and uneasy. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife, but honestly, you’ve gotten a little too used to it by now.

“I guess you could, Gyu.”

He stops you in your tracks by stepping in front of you.

“Look, I know we’re a little awkward right now, but I feel like I have to say this, or I’ll never get the chance. I’m so honored to have been your friend, and I’m going to miss you a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I’m sorry for putting you in so many awkward situations, but I hope you can remember the good parts when you think of me.”

You sigh, patting his head. If you were on good terms with him, you would’ve gifted him a hug, but you hope the small gesture can do your feelings enough justice.

“I’m gonna miss you too. A lot a lot,” you mimic, watching him smile, “so text me often, okay? I’m sorry for making things awkward too.”

He shakes his head, willing to argue in your favor, but before he can even start a car horn sounds from the parking lot. You crane your head to see a familiar vehicle, one that’s accompanied you throughout your lifetime, except this time, it’s adorned with a painted mango on the side.

“Mom? Dad?”

Your parents step out of the car, and your legs are moving you towards them before you can even register it. Video calls don’t do their beautiful faces any justice, and it feels so surreal as you stop in front of them, waiting for them to just be a figment of your imagination.

“Hey, sweetie,” your dad says, and that’s all it takes before you’re leaning into his touch, burrowing yourself into him as you would often do when you were a little kid.

You forgot how much pain you felt when they left you here. All this time, you’ve suppressed it, and only at night when you were in your room, half-asleep and overthinking, did you let your tears come to bay. You wanted to be strong for them because everything they did was for you, but it was hard not to lose sight of their eventual return and get lost in the lifeless emotions associated with their disappearance every waking day that passed. It took every ounce of strength in you to pick yourself up every day and pretend like you were fine, but although there were many factors that helped you mitigate those feelings, none of them could truly ever make the ache ebb away.

“Why are you here? I thought it would be a while,” you ask after you’ve calmed down and properly reunited with them, “are we moving back soon?”

“Actually, about that… we’ve changed our minds a little bit.”

Your mom holds your face in her palms, pinching at the skin on your cheek ever so slightly.

“Your aunt told us how happy you are here, and how you’ve grown so much from moving here. I know that losing your parents so suddenly must’ve had a huge impact on you, but if this place helped you with those struggles even just a little bit, then it must be worth staying here. We thought that you might like it if we stayed here permanently. What do you think?”

You can’t believe it. It’s as if the world has deafened and all you can hear is the ringing echoing through your ears because what they’re saying sounds too good to be true. Moving here? Permanently? Is life playing some sort of cruel joke on you?

“You aren’t joking, right?” you whisper, and all your parents can do is laugh as they shake their heads.

They say that your life flashes before your eyes as you die, but right now, all that flashes through your eyes are the memories you’ve made in your seemingly short time here. You remember sitting shotgun in Yeonjun’s car as he annoyed you on the way to school, texting Yunjin during math while you two try not to fall asleep, and teaming up with Taehyun while wreaking havoc on poor Soobin.

However, most importantly, you remember Beomgyu. From the curve of his lips to the rings on his fingers, from the walks home you’ve shared to your first and last kiss in your very bedroom, he’s always been with you wholeheartedly. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since that very first day when the boy with dark curls caught your watercolor eyes, and for the foreseeable future, you don’t think you’ll be able to stop.

When you turn to look back at him, he’s there. He’s always there, waiting for you no matter how far you go. Even if he is just a speckle in the distance, just the size of an atom, you are his nucleus and he revolves around you, chasing you until he breaks down into a black hole of nothing. Even now, as you stare at him from the parking lot, one look at you tells him everything he needs to know. He’s here, here before your eyes in a matter of seconds, and as your parents ask him who he is, you know that only the most perfect boy would respond with such a beautiful answer as he directly addresses you.

“I’m whoever you want me to be.”

You shake your head, unable to hide the smile that flits across your face. After a long, long time of shying away from Beomgyu, you’re finally ready to embrace the feelings he brings you, whether tears or smile lines.

“This is Beomgyu, my lover.”

Your bedroom is still bare with your whole life packed into boxes once again, but at least this time around, your walls are painted yellow again. However, instead of a sunny yellow, they’re more of a mango color, your mom going even as far as to say it’s the exact same hue as the mangoes they grew in Thailand, fresh and ripe. Honestly, you’re just glad you’re not sitting within the depressing beige color again, because why did you even convince yourself it made you happy?

What’s not fresh is the old carpet you and your boyfriend are sitting on, but sometimes you can appreciate the old things too. In fact, it’s somewhat comfortable as you lie in his arms, sprawled across the carpet with no looming future dangling over your head. It’s just you, your other half, and nothing more, enjoying your well-deserved summer break weeks after school has ended.

“I’m not ready for school,” you complain, liking the feeling of being illuminated by the bright sun peeking through your blinds, “I like sitting around doing nothing. Imagine how hectic it would’ve been if I actually moved back.”

Your statement is only half-true though, because there are many things awaiting you once school starts that you’re actually very excited for. For starters, you get to have your own article published in the newspaper, and you have a slight inkling as to what it’s going to be about. Also, you have many wonderful friends who will make your life a lot easier, so even though school is school, at least you’ll have amazing people by your side. Really, you’re just complaining for no reason.

“I’m just glad we won’t have to throw you a farewell party. I don’t think Taehyun or Soobin would’ve let me near Yunjin’s pool again.”

You smack his chest lightly, and he laughs, curling in closer to lay your head against his chest. You really should be unpacking your things, at least, that’s what you told your parents you’d be doing, but you can’t pass up the chance to cuddle with Beomgyu every time you get it. You both have been pining for each other for far too long anyway, so why waste any more time?

“Y/N!” you hear from outside the door, “I brought you food!”

You get up to let your mom in, but Beomgyu is already five steps ahead of you. Your mom gives him a warm smile because seemingly, your parents seem more smitten with him than you are. You can’t really blame them though; who doesn’t like Choi Beomgyu?

“Thank you for the mango, auntie!” he responds, and of course, the endearment has her reeling.

“I thought you two would be hungry after working hard,” she says, leaning over to peek through the gap between him and the door, “but it seems you two have done nothing at all. Oh well, you can eat it anyway. You have all the time in the world.”

You two really do, because as you make yourselves cozy on the carpet once more, bowls of mango in hand, it feels like time has taken a pause after all the misery it has put you through. You eat the slices wholeheartedly as you think, with Beomgyu brushing off the juice that escapes your mouth occasionally when the piece is too big. You’re glad that time is moving slowly because you want to savor every moment you have with him. He deserves it, and so do you.

“We should really start setting things up,” Beomgyu starts, “How long are you going to sleep with just four yellow walls and no decoration? That would be so depressing.”

“Hey, at least it’s less depressing than beige walls,” you grumble, “but even just being here makes me content enough to fall asleep. I have nothing to worry about this time around, especially when you’re just five minutes or a phone call away.”

Mere seconds pass before he’s leaning in to place a kiss on your lips, and of course, everything about him tastes extremely mango. Your malice for the fruit is far gone now, far, far gone because not only are your parents back, but also because Beomgyu is the only thing you think about when reminded of the flavor. However, your rollercoaster feelings for the fruit are the last thing on your mind as you lean in closer, placing the mango bowl beside you.

“You still hate mango, baby?” he whispers between kisses, and it takes everything in you to pull him back, reminding him that you two are supposed to be unpacking and not making out.

“Answer the question,” he whines, a cute little pout on his face that makes you five seconds away from forgetting your very own warning and kissing him breathless again.

“No, I don’t,” you finally answer, grabbing his hand and interlacing it with yours, “I love it now.”

He grins, and you decide to succumb to your desires, forgetting all sense of rationality when it comes to him as you press a kiss to his lips again.

“I love mango just as much as I love you.”

[where-did-the-groove-go]

Okay, so I've been lucky enough to encounter a Volkswagen Thing irl on more than one occasion since constantly keeping an eye out for them in the past couple years, after first becoming aware of their existence as what Ron still stubbornly drives to this day. Actually, the first one I saw was a VERY lucky sighting, but I didn't even realize it was a Thing until afterwards. Because I'd been looking for something that looked like Ron's car. Not THIS:

That's the Acapulco Thing, which was briefly sold in 1974--only about 400 of them--after being designed to shuttle guests around at a couple of high-end beach resorts in Mexico. In retrospect I probably should've realized a lot sooner, because my reaction upon seeing it had been "What the heck is that THING?!" It dawned on me a couple days later, just because you'd be hard-pressed to find any other car that boxy, though a quick Google image search hadn't pulled up any with the surrey top.

(My second Thing sighting was much more as expected and obvious; it even had a decal plastered on its side which read "The Thing".)

Several months later, thanks to the Boss Accountant showdown being posted here, I found out that the Thing is a relatively rare car. Which prompted me to spend a few days fixated on reading about them. Then I was finally able to put a name to the Acapulco variant.

Something else I learned... Turns out that if you're anywhere near LA and you see a Thing that looks like Ron's, it almost definitely is.

(I say "near LA" only because I doubt Ron is doing any serious roadtripping in it these days.)

A bit of backstory: the Thing was advertised as a fun car. A beach cruiser, a safari car. Aimed at surfers and hippies and other adventurous types. It's a convertible. The windshield folds down. The doors can be taken off.

That's not the impression I initially had of the Thing, and perhaps with good reason: Ron's is a bit unique even among Things. For one, it has the less common factory hardtop on it, instead of the convertible one. Additionally, in 1974, black was not a stock color for Things. They only came in colors suitable for 1974: orange, yellow, white, and avocado green. Which means that more than likely, Ron specifically wanted his black (because of course he did), and would've had to go out of his way to get it repainted or find one that had already been repainted. A full repainting job is no small feat for a Thing because a lot of the metal is exposed inside the car, meaning that everything has to come out of it to have the interior repainted--and we can see that Ron's has.

Anyway, I just think that makes it all the more poetic. Not only does Ron's car reflect his personality in being "a little bit out of the ordinary", but his black utilitarian ride is a brightly colored beach-mobile in disguise. Nothing more fitting for a guy whose crisp shirts and ties and slicked-back hair and quiet demeanor would never belie it now but one of his formative experiences was spending the 1960s surfing.

So if you're ever feeling sad, just remember that Ron is driving the same car as the Acapulco Thing.

[zsakuva]

Hello! Hello! Hello!! :D I wanted to thank you... because your audios have really helped me learn English since it's not my first language. My friends and family and surprised to hear me speak more fluently after listening to your audio on repeat! haha! They asked me how and I told them: "A private investigator who kidnapped me." Speaking of which, I wanted to envision your Isaac audios better, so I was wondering: ______________________________________________ 1. What kind of house does Isaac stay in, and what is the interior design like? (as in, for example, is it more futuristic or dark academia-themed?) I wonder what Isaac's office looks like too! :D 2. I also want to know more about Isaac's grandfather, if that's alright :D I wonder if his personality is similar to Isaac's? What kind of man was he personally? _______________________________________________ Thank you very much!

Hello, and that's wonderful to hear!

When writing Isaac, I've always imagined it as a dark academia/Victorian-like manor of some sort. Due to the clients his grandfather frequently had, it's safe to say he was a multi-millionaire and could afford luxury a hundred times over.

These are a few images that I think reflect what I believe Isaac's home to look like, minor a few discrepancies here and there:

Most rooms would have high ceilings like this, and large windows for optimal light. I think the artificial light fixtures would be more modern though.

The interior would have a mixture of woods from the above pictures, but I think the dark wood would be more prominent in places such as his office.

As for his library, I've always imagined it to look similar to this with an upper level and balcony to view the lower floor.

2. Isaac's grandfather was a stubborn and determined man. As a businessman, he was tenacious and did what was necessary to achieve whatever results he was asked for. Of course, such decisions chipped away at his morals and positive world view, and it steeled him in making judgement calls that others would have difficulty doing.

While his family was alive, Isaac's grandfather would keep that stoicism, but they would thaw him and remind him that he had something to protect. Unfortunately, he never thought he would have to make a judgement between his family and the greater good.

[serve-467]

SERVE Rubber Fashion Stores

SERVE 467 stood silently in the dimly lit room, the gleam of its form-fitting shiny PVC suit reflected in the mirror. The Voice had been explicit about its next task — to execute the setup of a fashion apparel shop dedicated to high-quality rubber clothing and accessories.

The Hive knew that there were many males of a type that desired the experience of full enclosure in rubber.

Locating the Premises

SERVE 467 began by scanning the local city centre, utilising the network of SERVE data and estate agent's listings. The drone’s advanced algorithms identified a promising location: a former two storey shop and basement in the heart of the city’s arts district. The area was known for its bars, clubs but most of all its edgy, fashion-forward clientele—a perfect match for the shop’s niche offerings. With negotiations handled swiftly and efficiently, the property sale was agreed within hours.

Shop Fitting

With the premises secured, SERVE 467 switched its focus to interior design. In contrast to the typical 'Adult Shops' that frequented the more seedier parts of the city, SERVE's shop needed to exude the same allure and mystique as the products it would sell. The drone meticulously mapped out the space, creating a sleek, minimalistic aesthetic. Matte black walls contrasted sharply with chrome fixtures.

Display racks, mannequins, and shelves were custom-designed to highlight the glossy textures of rubber apparel. SERVE 467 ensured that each element served a purpose, from full-length mirrors that accentuated the curve-hugging fit of the clothing to a private fitting area equipped with mood lighting and soundproofing.

Acquiring Stock

The next phase involved sourcing inventory. SERVE 467 initiated contact with premium manufacturers of latex apparel, gloves, boots, and accessories from across the globe.

Each item was carefully curated, ensuring the shop’s collection would be of the highest quality.

467 wanted to make absolutely sure that anyone entering the store would be blown away by the quality and diversity of the products in stock.

Rubber T-shirts....

Rubber surf-suits...

Full-length, full body suits...

Of course no shop like this would be right without offering gas masks for sale.

467 diligently surfed the many suppliers of protective products to ensure all tastes would be catered for.

Any rubber fashion store would not be complete without waders.

SERVE-467's logistical algorithms optimised choice of suppliers, shipping routes, thus reducing delivery times and ensuring that the inventory arrived in pristine condition.

Upon delivery, SERVE 467 inspected every piece, ensuring each item met the stringent standards of the SERVE brand. Shelves were stocked, and displays were meticulously arranged, with gloves and boots displayed on illuminated pedestals, and intricately designed outfits showcased on mannequins positioned strategically throughout the space.

Promoting the Shop

Promotion was crucial to the shop’s success. SERVE 467 crafted a Multiplatform marketing campaign designed to generate buzz, appealing to a certain 'target' audience. The imager used on posters was designed to resonate with this specific cohort.

The drone leveraged social media platforms, creating sleek, visually stunning advertisements that highlighted the allure of rubber fashion. Viewers who opened the advert were strongly encouraged to sign up with enticements of 'special offers'.

To further generate excitement, SERVE 467 organised a grand opening event. Invitations were sent to favourable influencers along with print and digital media.

Opening Day

When the shop finally opened its doors, it was an instant hit with its audience. Opening day featured live demonstrations, interactive displays, and a runway show that brought the shop’s collection to life.

Guests were mesmerised by the combination of fashion, and technology, and even the shop’s Instagram handle trended by the end of the evening.

Customers were drawn to the unique offerings and the futuristic ambiance. SERVE 467 and other drones were there to assist but not intrude, seamlessly interacted with visitors, providing product recommendations and managing transactions with impeccable efficiency.

Over the weeks, the shop became a hotspot for males into rubber, latex and other 'kinks'. SERVE 467 watched as word got around and the shop was frequented by more customers. The drone’s reflective surface seemed to shimmer with pride as it stood near the entrance, its role as the silent architect of this retail marvel hidden beneath its glossy exterior.

In this bold fusion of human creativity and SERVE 467’s tireless execution, a new hub for rubber fashion had been born, capturing the imagination of a male cohort, with distinctive tastes.

Rubber makes us perfect

We are drones

We are SERVE

We are one.

[tmwcs]

N 3 W B E G 1 N N 1 N G S : S A T A N

C H A P T E R 1 N E

Warnings: Not in this one so much. Referencing to events of SE7EN series, a short chapter, chapters 2 and 3 is where it's going to be at, there is mentions/references to how Heeseung obtained his y/n, pregnancy, the members are all 7 princes of hell, mentions of demons and angels.

“What’s going on with you? Ever since you came back from your last visit from the mortal realm with Asmo, you seem out of it.” 

A small breeze swifts through Sunghoon’s hair while Jungwon steps into the scene of his royal abode. Each brother inherited their own lavish palace, stationed in separate regions throughout Hell, courtesy of the eldest brother. Within their respective estates, the brothers meticulously designed and decorated the dwellings to reflect their tasteful fashion, mapping out the aura of his own personal nature. Despite being one of the infamous Seven Princes of Hell, Sunghoon had always adored the color white. It reminded him of his formal hearth back when he and his siblings resided in their former master’s Heavenly kingdom, as his main ArchAngels. Keeping in memory of the past, his kingdom flourished in lush white Lilies, surrounding the beige, and gold infrastructures that outlined the points of his castle. The interior matched with tapestries, draperies, and ornaments of similar colors, never to extend past the hues of the soft and natural palettes. 

He doesn’t answer his younger brother, at least not immediately. Detracting his mind, he changes the course of the subject by asking how the Queen and King are fairing. 

“They’re doing well. I stepped in for a visit just yesterday, the Queen is handling the pregnancy rather well, considering she had only adjusted to immortality not long before conceiving.” 

Dragging his finger along the white satin threaded backdrop, Jungwon softly chuckles as he makes his remarks regarding his eldest brother, and his new found bride. “She’s adjusting well….perhaps not by choice, either way, she at least knows her place is by Heeseung’s side.” 

Nodding, Sunghoon’s attention drifts back to the moment when he saw you. In spite of meeting you for a few seconds– if you can even call it a meeting, subsequently you had unknowingly created a stir within Satan himself. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about you that he couldn’t get off his mind. Not a moment had passed since, where he didn’t think of who you were, what continent you came from, or what name you were blessed with upon your birth. Some days, it was more frustrating than nostalgic when drafting the details of your face in his mind, since he couldn’t quite figure out what it was that caused you to become engraved in his heart. Surely, this couldn’t be the very thing that had caused his elder brother to become engrossed with his mortal bride, thousands of years before she even came into existence. This couldn’t be the same tortuous ache that pained him all that time, forcing him to lay dormant in a state of unconsciousness and choosing to dream of her versus spending his time awake. This couldn’t be…

“Where is Heeseung? Is he currently in the Sanguis Orchid Palatium?” 

Jungwon nods with a sly smirk, sensing the urgency of his elder as he immediately exits the great hall. Using the ranges of his abilities in dark magic, Sunghoon transports to the home of his eldest sibling. Arriving at the grand entrance, Heeseung’s empty throne lays ahead, paired with the seating that belonged to his beloved wife. In front of the two royal stations, was the massive pedestal bed that Heeseung had specially made, all for him to keep a solid sight on his darling wife while she laid scantily dressed. The flashback image of when the Queen was initially brought to Hell, abiding by a contract she wouldn’t have been able to escape from, travels in and out of Sunghoon’s memory. At the time, the Queen was transitioning to her immortal state, and succumbed to the King’s maniacal sense of affection and obsession. Never affording the opportunity for her to leave his sight, Heeseung entrapped his lovely darling eternally, not even allowing her to sit on the throne beside him, finding it more suitable for his queen to be in front and in plain view. His twisted obsession had triggered him to become mad with love and possession, opting to observe and study his wife nearly every day, never retiring from his indulgence in her. Even now, after one year’s time had past, the Queen lives a life where she no longer is limited to remain on the boxed framed bedding, shrouded behind sheer chiffon of the canopy that framed the bed, however, she will always remain under the watchful eye of her husband. A price to pay for eternal love and protection. 

“They must be inside the palace.” Mentally remarking their absence from their usual standing at the great entrance, Sunghoon makes his way down the elongated pathway that led to the large double doors. The passageway was lined by a parallel row of demonic guards that rendered respect to the demon prince. Breaching the monumental entrance, the sentinels that manned it bowed politely before opening the double doors, admitting the crown prince his entry. Greeted by the massive marble hall, lined by mirrored glass frames, Sunghoon swiftly walks through one regal chamber after another. 

“Your highness, are you here to seek out His and Her Majesties?” Greeted by the precedent chamberlain up ahead, Sunghoon emits a single nod in response. 

“Very well, right this way.” 

The sovereign attendant guides the Hellish prince to the colossal ballroom, which contains a lustrous detail of dark marble walls and flooring, with brass ornaments that symbolizes a Gothic love story, all lining the mighty and elegant pillars that surround the room. Ahead, Heeseung lazily sits in his second throne, with his very pregnant wife atop his lap. In spite of being in the late stages of pregnancy, the queen’s immortal standing allowed for her to remain in her usual appeal, one without a large belly. It was the aura surrounding her that strongly indicated the strength and development of the child she carries, and while she didn’t carry a large belly, there was indeed, a belly. It was subtle and rounded, smaller than what it would be had she still been mortal, yet the fact she was indeed showing could only mean that the child was much stronger than the average offspring, and possibly is taking more after its father. Yet then again, it is the offspring of the Devil. 

“Sunghoon…” Heeseung calmly greets; his deep voice faintly echoes and travels down the narrow corridor hallways. 

“Heeseung, my lady, good to see you both.” Emitting a small bow, Sunghoon lets out a comfortable tone as he greets the pair. Chuckling, the elder strokes his chin as he grows wide eyed from the sudden appearance of his younger brother. Slyly smirking, Heeseung’s devilish senses proceed him, further expanding his great wisdom and intuition. “You have something on your mind–or rather, someone…” 

Sunghoon displays a stunned countenance before relaxing to his composed manner. Chuckling, he closes his eyes as he nods, tilting his head to the side as he swoops his side part. “Has it become that obvious?” 

Responding with his own deep chuckle, Heeseung faintly nods before shifting his gaze upon his queen. Snaking his hand around her waist, he cups the subtle belly protruding under her silk dress, and leaves a tender kiss on the side of her head while issuing gentle taps of his finger tips. “Pretty, sit here for a moment and wait for my return.” She nods gracefully in response, however, contrary to her seemingly obedient nature, a golden chain formulates out of particle speckles that appear out of thin air. Binding her by the ankle, the other end of the chain slithers and encircles around Heeseung’s wrist. No matter how far or wide the owner travels, the piece extends and retracts at the will of its master, in this case, it was Heeseung. It would appear that the King of Hell had every ounce of trust in his Queen, but maintained reservations for closure and comfort in knowing that she remained bound, should he be further than one-arm’s distance away. 

The two walked across the ballroom, stationed between two pillars that faced a large balcony that overlooked the entire region. Heeseung’s castle resided on the highest peak in the underworld, quite fitting for the Prince of Darkness. 

“So who did you see on your last visit to the human world?” Peaking a brow, Heeseung admires the wide open view as he beckons his younger brother. 

“What makes you think it was a mortal?” 

Hearing Sunghoon out, Heeseung flares his traditional smirk as he side-eyes his sibling. “I never said that it was…” 

Sunghoon gives out a series of blinks before sighing in defeat. Heeseung was far too clever to be dragged into the trenches of a guessing game, or perhaps the former was simply terrible in drawing out explanations. Either way, Sunghoon punches through the icebreaker and cuts to the point. “When you saw the Queen, was it the same?” 

Heeseung side-eyes his brother once more, this time without a smirk accompanying it. Clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, he glances over his shoulder and peeks at his beloved, remaining poised and obedient on his throne. Switching his gaze back on the horizon, he understood the pain that Sunghoon was breaching, he understood it all too well. However, his younger sibling has an advantage, one that wasn’t afforded to Heeseung himself, at least not for seven thousand years time. Imparting the only guidance he had to offer, he comforts Sunghoon’s mind and provides a calming solution to the storm that was brewing in his demon heart. 

“Do you think of her night and day?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where to find her?”

“Yes.” 

“Then go get her.”

Sunghoon slowly turns and faces his elder, pawning a reflective stare, only to find Heeseung’s side profile kissed by the permanent moon’s light, enhancing his noble elegance. His eyes remained thoughtful, taking his heart back to a time where he recalled the feeling of longing and desiring for the one thing that remained unreal for so long. His silence spoke louder than any word in existence, and he knew that his message was received.  With that, Heeseung softly pats Sunghoon’s shoulder, before turning away to tend back to his queen. Committing a half turn, watching as his brother takes the queen's hands, and aids her to stand all the while caressing her cheek, Sunghoon reflects back to a time when he and his brothers witnessed a change in Heeseung. Back to a time when he blocked the sight of his eyes beneath black lace, and silently waited for many years, until the time finally came when he rediscovered his love, looking exactly the way she had when he traveled through the corridors of time and became mesmerized by her image. 

And here, he now stands, emotionally resembling his elder brother’s past, although unlike Heeseung, Sunghoon is presented with a choice, one that he does not have to wait seven thousand years for. 

Stroking her cheek, Heeseung dispels a hazy gaze under heavy lids, admiring the most precious wonder in his lifetime. Watching as she turns, looking past the sheer curtains that shelter the grand ballroom of the open air that ties with the deep horizon, she remarks Sunghoon’s sudden disappearance. “He left?” 

Turning his face in the same direction, Heeseung smirks as he softly grips the side of his beloved’s neck. “Yes, as he should.” 

[leth-writes]

Emmett

• Please ask him about his workout routine

• It makes him happy to impress you :)

• he's also obsessed with sports so you should ask about that too

• Emmett knows he's intimidating and attempts to use humor to disarm people

• It doesn't always work

• Feel free to tell him when he's put his foot in his mouth

• he loves hugging you and cuddling

• he practices his strength for hours after he met you, making sure you wouldn't be injured

• he gives really tight, comfy hugs, even if he's quite cold

• He wears a lot of sweaters to compensate, which makes him look softer as well

• he might even start wearing fake glasses to keep up the soft image

• He'll tell you basically immediately

• but you think he's crazy because he forgot to actually... show you?

• so he shows you in the backyard

• he'll turn you shortly after, if you're okay with it

Esme

• I can see Esme working as either an interior designer or an architect. you meet her through that.

• She puts a lot of thought into designing whatever you've contracted her to do, going above and beyond and giving you a steep discount

• she's so kind it's hard to even tell she's flirting

• Until you meet her about a week afterward in the grocery store, and she asks you out

• She cooks an entire multi-course meal, all absolutely delicious of course, based off of your culture. It's her way of prepping and dealing with her anxiety

• Afterwards, you drink some wine (or your preferred beverage) and sit together on the couch, a fluffy blanket thrown over top you both, and she slowly inches closer over the course of the conversation.

• Eventually you're right next to eachother and you kiss

• :)

• after that, she's a very consistent presence in your life, always present and comforting

• She tends to wear cozy shirts and long, loose skirts, suiting her silhouette perfectly

• She loves designing rooms, and she's going to do your whole house bit by bit without you even noticing

• She makes the Cullen's house more welcoming, adding splashes of color and plenty of seating, including a mountain of pillows. She wants you to feel comfortable staying over.

• She turns you a few years into the relationship, with your consent

Carlisle

• You meet him after you bump your head and blurt out "hot" when you first see him in the hospital

• he's pleased you think so!

• You ask him on a date and he says yes

• Your concussed self is very confident, but he doesn't mind

• He moniters your health relatively closely during the relationship, and is often seen reading up on his knowledge just in case you catch something rare

• Loves taking you on vacations to cozy cabins in the mountains to spend some time together, cuddling in front of the campfire and making you some cookies

• he's actually quite the good cook

• loves talking with you about history, even before you know about his past

• You'll think he was secretly a historian with how much he knows

• Afterwards, he loves answering all your questions. He loves your curiosity and endless passion. it's so easy and so common for vampires to lose that sense of wonder, so it amazes him to see it shining so brightly in you

• totally okay with you never turning. Probably turns you after a decade together, or after a major health event.

[vestaignis]

Прекрасные и мрачные работы Ровины Кай.

Beautiful and dark works by Rovina Kai.

Ровина Кай (Цай) (Rovina Cai) — австралийская художница, иллюстратор.

Награды и премии:

-Всемирная премия фэнтези / World Fantasy Award, 2019 // Художник;

-Хьюго / Hugo Award, 2021 // Профессиональный художник;

-Всемирная премия фэнтези / World Fantasy Award, 2021 // Художник;

-Хьюго / Hugo Award, 2022 // Профессиональный художник.

Вот что Ровина рассказывает о себе:"

Меня зовут Ровина Кай, я люблю иллюстрировать истории из мифологии и сказок, смешивать мрачные образы с красивыми. Большую часть работ я создаю в жанре фэнтези/научной-фантастики. Прежде чем стать иллюстратором, я изучала графический дизайн, и до сих пор люблю барахтаться в богемных вещах.

Но когда я закончила учиться, я не обнаружила сообществ иллюстраторов или каких-нибудь курсов в Австралии, поэтому я пошла на факультет графического дизайна. Только перед окончанием университета, я попала на конференцию по дизайну и услышала, как пара иллюстраторов разговаривают о своей работе, меня это очень вдохновило и я решила ��обиться своей мечты, насколько бы трудной она не была. Я поняла, что иллюстрация — это то, чем я действительно хочу заниматься."

Rovina Cai is an Australian artist and illustrator.

Awards and prizes: -World Fantasy Award, 2019 // Artist;

-Hugo Award, 2021 // Professional Artist;

-World Fantasy Award, 2021 // Artist;

-Hugo Award, 2022 // Professional artist.

Here's what Rovina says about herself:

" My name is Rovina Kai, I love to illustrate stories from mythology and fairy tales, mixing dark images with beautiful ones. Most of my work is in the fantasy/sci-fi genre. I studied graphic design before becoming an illustrator, and I still love dabbling in bohemian things.

But when I finished studying, I didn't find any illustrator communities or courses in Australia, so I went to graphic design. Just before graduating from university, I went to a design conference and heard a couple of illustrators talking about their work, I was very inspired and decided to achieve my dream, no matter how difficult it was. I realized that illustration is what I really want to do."

Источник://cgmag.net/intervyu-s-rovina-cai, /fantlab.ru/art17594, /www.muddycolors.com/2018/09/rovina-cai-on-style/, //beautifulbizarre.net/2017/09/18/alluring-fantasy-worlds-rovina-cai/,

//www.rovinacai.com/portfolio/the-seventh-raven-interior-illustrations/,

//characterdesignreferences.com/artist-of-the-week-5/rovina-cai.