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another-little-hippie · 2 months

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thanks @grapesnolives for another great suggestion!

the phone id give you based off your fav lz member

Jonsey

Jimmy

Bonzo

Robert

#based off your fav lz member #led zeppelin #robert plant #jimmy page #classic rock #70s #rock and roll #60s #john paul jones #bonzo #phones #iphone case #stock photos #underground fungal network #trees and forests #hippie lifestyle #treescape

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madigoround · 5 months

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I think I need to take my as needed anxiety med I’m tiptoeing towards a panic attack about my great aunts passing and the idea of having to go back to work when it feels like I just need a break from life for a few months but also tomorrow I’m supposed to receive a call from one of my best leads on a good safe shelter for the last four of her cats to go when the rescue volunteer’s boss gets in tomorrow and it’s always harder for me to wake up after taking it and I may not hear the phone if I’m asleep and wake up in time to answer it and you guys don’t understand how hard I’ve been working to get her cats in good homes or a good no kill shelter

#I’ve talked with over 70 rescues at this point im running out of options I’ve sent out mass Facebook posts to groups in her area #but the sadness and anxiety is making me feel like im going to throw up #it hurts really badly #i keep getting people bothering me to go back to work and work on murder cases and I really can’t #im probably going to get up and take it at least it would take the edge off #there’s something about holding someone’s hand as they take their last desperate breath that is worlds different from getting a phone call #that your loved one passed and both hurt but holding her hand while she died was so much more torturous

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mikyapixie · 4 months

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🩵HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!💙

I've had THE best 26 birthday EVER!!! I went to my seafood favorite restaurants A.K.A Corky Bells a true hidden gem had the best food & time with my family!!!Sang Happy Birthday surrounded by Studio Ghibli & 70s themed birthday decorations!!! Had a beautiful eletric blue unicorn cake filled with sprinkles!!! I received super cute Disney pens from my mom courtesy of CarolinaGirlzFizz💎!!! I A super cool Scooby Doo tapestry!!! I even received Hello Kitty Crocs!!! Truly an amazing birthday!!!

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klowndykebar · 4 months

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Fuck casetify why is it so expensive

#like a phone case is 70 bucks ok……#the Evangelion collab looks so lit tho😩

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ghanikh-tee · 1 year

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Debbie Harry Phone case

Blondie ✨

Available on :

https://www.teepublic.com/phone-case/45242197-blondie?store_id=272219

#blondie #debbie harry #aesthetic #retro art #vintage #punk music #70s #80s music #phone case design

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fratboykate · 1 year

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I'm totally in support of the writers in theory but I'm trying to understand more of what you're fighting for because I've seen some people on twitter claim writers make more money a week than most of us make in a month so I'm trying to understand what the issue is. Also if that info is accurate. This is a genuine question. Not trying to have a "gotcha moment". I really want to hear from a writer.

people have always had wild misconceptions about how much a writer earns because of their lack of understanding of how the industry actually works. there's so many posts about how "you guys make 5k a week. what more do you want?!" yeah...let's do some math on that.

5k a week for 14 weeks (and that's a long room. a lot of rooms these days are 8-10 weeks. those are the dreaded mini-rooms we're trying to kill) is $70,000. for roughly three months of work. you'd think we're cooking with gas...BUT HOLD UP. that's gross! let's see everything that has to come out of that check:

10% to our agent

10% to our manager

5% to our entertainment attorney

5% to our business manager (not everyone has one but a lot of us do. i do, so that's literally 30% immediately off the top of every check)

most of these breakdowns ive seen downplay taxes severely. someone made one that says writers pay 5% in taxes and i would like to ask them "in what universe?". that doesn't even cover state taxes. the way taxes work in the industry is really complicated, but the short of it is most of us have companies for tax reasons so we aren't taxed like people on w2s/1099. if we did we'd be even more fucked. basically every production hires a writer's company instead of the writer as an individual. so they engage our companies for our services and then at the end of the year we (the company) pay taxes as corporations or llcs (depending on what the writer chose to go with). my company is registered as a "corporation" so let's go with those rates. california's corporate rate is 9% and the federal corporate tax rate is 21%. there's other expenses with running a business like fees and other shit so my business managers/accountants/bookkeepers have recommended i save between 35-40% of everything i make for when tax season comes.

you see where the math is at already??? 25-30% in commissions and then 35-40% in taxes. on the lower end you're at THE VERY LEAST looking at 60% of that check gone. 70% worst case scenario. suddenly those $70,000 people claim we make are actually down to $28,000 as the take home pay. and that's if you're only losing 60%. it goes down to $21,000 if it's 70%.

lets pretend you worked a long 14 week room (that's the longest room ive ever worked btw) and let's also be generous and say you only have 60% in expenses so the take home is $28,000. average rent in los angeles is around $2,800-$3,000. if you're paying $2,800 in rent that means you need AT LEAST $4,000 a month to have a semi decent life since you need to also cover groceries, gas, medical expenses, toiletries, phone, internet, utilities, rental and car insurances, car payments, student loan payments, etc etc etc. and again, this is los angeles. everything is more expensive so you're living BARE BONES on 4k. and these are numbers as a single person. im not even taking having children into account. so those $28,000 you take home might cover your life for 6-7 months. 3 of which you're in the room working. the reality is that once that room ends, you might not work in a room again for 6-9-12 months (i have friends whose last jobs were over 18 months ago) and you now only have about 3 months left of savings to hold you over. we have to make that money stretch while we do all the endless free development we do for studios and until we get our next paying job. so...3 months left of enough money to cover your expenses -> possible 9 months of not having a job. this is how writers end up on food stamps or applying to work at target.

this is why we're fighting for better rates and better residuals. residuals were a thing writers used to rely on to get them through the unemployment periods. residual checks have gone down from 20k to $0.03 cents. im not joking.

they've decimated our regular pay and then destroyed residuals. we have nothing left. so don't believe it when they tell you writers are being greedy. writers are simply fighting to be able to make a middle class living. we're not asking them to become poor for our sake. we're asking for raises that amount to 2% of their profit. TWO PERCENT. this is a fight for writing even being a career in five years instead of something you do on the side while you work retail to pay your bills. if you think shows are bad now imagine when your writer has to do it as a hobby because they need a real job to pay their bills and support a family. (which none of us can currently afford to have btw)

support writers. stop being bootlickers for billion dollar corporations. stop caring about fictional people more than you care about the real people that write them. if we don't win this fight it truly is game over. the industry as you know it is gone.

#wga strike #writer's strike #hollywood #anonymous #answers #myposts

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 3 months

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The Radio Times magazine from the 29 July-04 August 2023 :)

THE SECOND COMING

How did Terry Pratchett and Neil gaiman overcome the small matter of Pratchett's death to make another series of their acclaimed divine comedy?

For all the dead authors in the world,” legendary comedy producer John Lloyd once said, “Terry Pratchett is the most alive.” And he’s right. Sir Terry is having an extremely busy 2023… for someone who died in 2015.

This week sees the release of Good Omens 2, the second series of Amazon’s fantasy comedy drama based on the cult novel Pratchett co-wrote with Neil Gaiman in the late 1980s. This will be followed in the autumn by a new spin-off book from Pratchett’s Discworld series, Tiffany Aching’s Guide to Being a Witch, co-written by Pratchett’s daughter Rhianna and children’s author Gabrielle Kent. The same month, we’ll also get A Stroke of the Pen, a collection of “lost” short stories written by Sir Terry for local newspapers in the 70s and 80s and recently rediscovered. Clearly, while there are no more books coming from Pratchett – a hard drive containing all drafts and unpublished work was crushed by a vintage steamroller shortly after the author’s death, as per his specific wishes – people still want to visit his vivid and addictive worlds in new ways.

Good Omens 2 will be the first test of how this can work. The original book started life as a 5,000-word short story by Gaiman, titled William the Antichrist and envisioned as a bit of a mashup of Richmal Crompton’s Just William books and the 70s horror classic The Omen. What would happen, Gaiman had mused, if the spawn of Satan had been raised, not by a powerful American diplomat, but by an extremely normal couple in an idyllic English village, far from the influence of hellish forces? He’d sent the first draft to bestselling fantasy author Pratchett, a friend of many years, and then forgotten about it as he busied himself with continuing to write his massively popular comic books, including Violent Cases, Black Orchid and The Sandman, which became a Netflix series last year.

Pratchett loved the idea, offering to either buy the concept from Gaiman or co-write it. It was, as Gaiman later said, “like Michelangelo phoning and asking if you want to paint a ceiling” The pair worked on the book together from that point on, rewriting each other as they went and communicating via long phone calls and mailed floppy discs. “The actual mechanics worked like this: I would do a bit, then Neil would take it away and do a bit more and give it back to me,” Pratchett told Locus magazine in 1991. “We’d mess about with each other’s bits and pieces.”

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch – to give it its full title –was published in 1990 to huge acclaim. It was one of, astonishingly, five Terry Pratchett novels to be published that year (he averaged two a year, including 41 Discworld novels and many other standalone works and collaborations).

It was also, clearly, extremely filmable, and studios came knocking — though getting it made took a while. rnvo decades on from its writing, four years after Pratchett's death from Alzheimer's disease aged 66, and after several doomed attempts to get a movie version off the ground, Good Omens finally made it to TV screens in 2019, scripted and show-run by Gaiman himself. "Terry was egging me on to make it into television. He knew he was dying, and he knew that I wouldn't start it without him," Gaiman revealed in a 2019 Radio Times interview. Amazon and the BBC co-produced with Pratchett's company Narrativia and Gaiman's Blank Corporation production studios, with Michael Sheen and David Tennant cast in the central roles of Aziraphale the angel and Crowley the demon. The show was a hit, not just with fans of its two creators, but with a whole new young audience, many of whom had no interest in Discworld or Sandman. Social media networks like Tumblr and TikTok were soon awash with cosplay, artwork and fan fiction. The original novel became, for the first time, a New York Times bestseller.

A follow up was, on one level, a no-brainer. The world Pratchett and Gaiman had created was vivid, funny and accessible, and Tennant and Sheen had found an intriguing romantic spark in their chemistry not present in the novel.

There was, however, a huge problem. There wasn't a second Good Omens book to base it on. But there was the ghost of an idea.

In 1989, after the book had been sold but before it had come out, the two authors had laid on fivin beds in a hotel room at a convention in Seattle and, jet-lagged and unable to sleep, plotted out, in some detail, what would happen in a sequel, provisionally titled 668, The II Neighbour of the Beast.

"It was a good one, too" Gaiman wrote in a 2021 blog. "We fully intended to write it, whenever we next had three or four months free. Only I went to live in America and Terry stayed in the UK, and after Good Omens was published, Sandman became SANDMAN and Discworld became DISCWORLD(TM) and there wasn't a good time."

Back in 1991, Pratchett elaborated, "We even know some of the main characters in it. But there's a huge difference between sitting there chatting away, saying, 'Hey, we could do this, we could do that,' and actually physically getting down and doing it all again." In 2019, Gaiman pillaged some of those ideas for Good Omens series one (for example, its final episode wasn't in the book at all), and had left enough threads dangling to give him an opening for a sequel. This is the well he's returned to for Good Omens 2, co-writing with comic John Finnemore - drafted in, presumably, to plug the gap left Pratchett's unparalleled comedic mind. No small task.

Projects like Good Omens 2 are an important proving ground for Pratchett's legacy: can the universes he conjured endure without their creator? And can they stay true to his spirit? Sir Terry was famously protective of his creations, and there have been remarkably few adaptations of his work considering how prolific he was. "What would be in it for me?" he asked in 2003. "Money? I've got money."

He wanted his work treated reverently and not butchered for the screen. It's why Good Omens and projects like Tiffany Aching's Guide to Being a Witch are made with trusted members of the inner circle like Neil Gaiman and Rhianna Pratchett at the helm. It's also why the author's estate, run by Pratchett's former assistant and business manager Rob Wilkins, keeps a tight rein on any licensed Pratchett material — it's a multi-million dollar media empire still run like a cottage industry.

And that's heartening. Anyone who saw BBC America's panned 2021 Pratchett adaptation The Watch will know how badly these things can go when a studio is allowed to run amok with the material without oversight. These stories deserve to be told, and these worlds deserve to be explored — properly. And there are, apparently, many plans afoot for more Pratchett on the screen. You can only hope that, somewhere, he'll be proud of the results.

After all, as he wrote himself, "No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life is only the core of their actual existence."

While those ripples continue to spread, Sir Terry Pratchett remains very much alive. MARC BURROWS

DIVINE DUO

An angel and a demon walk into a pub... Michael Sheen and David Tennant on family, friendship and Morecambe & Wise

Outside it's cold winter's day and we're in a Scottish studio, somewhere between Edinburgh and Glasgow. But inside it's lunchtime in The Dirty Donkey pub in the heart of London, with both Michael Sheen and David Tennant surveying the scene appreciatively. "This is a great pub," says Sheen eagerly, while Tennant calls it "the best Soho there can be. A slightly heightened, immaculate, perfect, dreamy Soho."

Here, a painting of the absent landlord — the late Terry Pratchett, co-creator, with Neil Gaiman, of the series' source novel — looms over punters. Around the corner is AZ Fell and Co Antiquarian and Unusual Books. It's the bookshop owned by Sheen's character, the angel Aziraphale, and the place to where Tennant's demon Crowley is inevitably drawn.

It's day 74 of an 80-day shoot for a series that no one, least of all the leading actors, ever thought would happen, due to the fact that Pratchett and Gaiman hadn't ever published any sequel to their 1990 fantasy satire. Tennant explains, "What we didn't know was that Neil and Terry had had plots and plans..."

Still, lots of good things are in Good Omens 2, which expands on the millennia-spanning multiverse of the first series. These include a surprisingly naked side of John Hamm, and roles for both Tennant's father-in-law (Peter Davison) and 21-year-old son Ty. At its heart, though, remains the brilliant banter between the two leading men — as Sheen puts it, "very Eric and Ernie !" — whose chemistry on the first series led to one of the more surprising saviours of lockdown telly.

Good Omens is back — but you've worked together a lot in the meantime. Was there a connective tissue between series one of Good Omens and Staged, your lockdown sitcom?

David: Only in as much as the first series went out, then a few months later, we were all locked in our houses. And because of the work we'd done on Good Omens, it occurred that we might do something else. I mean, Neil Gaiman takes full responsibility for Staged. Which, to some extent, he's probably right to do!

Michael: We've got to know each other through doing this. Our lives have gotten more entwined in all kinds of ways — we have children who've now become friends, and our families know each other.

There have been hints of a romantic storyline between the two characters. How much of an undercurrent is that in this series.

David: Nothing's explicit.

Michael: I felt from the very beginning that part of what would be interesting to explore is that Aziraphale is a character, a being, who just loves. How does that manifest itself in a very specific relationship with another being? Inevitably, as there is with everything in this story, there's a grey area. The fact that people see potentially a "romantic relationship", I thought that was interesting and something to explore.

There was a petition to have the first series banned because of its irreverent take on Christian tropes. Series two digs even more deeply into the Bible with the story of Job. How much of a badge of honour is it that the show riles the people who like to ban things?

David: It's not an irreligious show at all. It's actually very respectful of the structure of that sort of religious belief. The idea that it promotes Satanism [is nonsense]. None of the characters from hell are to be aspired to at all! They're a dreadful bunch of non-entities. People are very keen to be offended, aren't they? They're often looking for something to glom on to without possibly really examining what they think they're complaining about.

Michael, you're known as an activist, and you're in the middle of Making BBC drama The Way, which "taps into the social and political chaos of today's world". Is it important for you to use your plaform to discuss causes you believe in?

Michael: The Way is not a political tract, it's just set in the area that I come from. But it has to matter to you, doesn't it? More and more as I get older, [I find] it can be a real slog doing this stuff. You've got to enjoy it. And if it doesn't matter to you, then it's just going to be depressing.

David, Michael has declared himself a "not-for-profit" actor. Has he tried to persuade you to give up all your money too?

David: What an extraordinary question! One is always aware that one has a certain responsibility if one is fortunate and gets to do a job that often doesn't feel like a job. You want to do your bit whenever you can. But at the same time, I'm an actor. I'm not about to give that up to go into politics or anything. But I'll do what I can from where I live.

Well, your son and your father-in-law are also starring in this series. How about that, jobs for the boys!

David: I know! It was a delight to get to be on set with them. And certainly an unexpected one for me. Neil, on two occasions, got to bowl up to me and say, "Guess who we've cast?!"

How do you feel about your US peers going on strike?

David: It's happening because there are issues that need to be addressed. Nobody's doing this lightly. These are important issues, and they've got to be sorted out for the future of our industry. There's this idea that writers and actors are all living high on the hog. For huge swathes of our industry, that's just not the case. These people have got to be protected.

Michael: We have to be really careful that things don't slide back to the way they were pre the 1950s, when the stories that we told were all coming from one point of view and the stories of certain people, or communities within our society, weren't represented. There's a sense that now that's changed for ever and it'll never go back. But you worry when people can't afford to have the opportunities that other people have. We don't want the story that we tell about ourselves to be myopic. You want it to be as inclusive as possible

Staged series 3 recently broadcast. It felt like the show's last hurrah — or is there more mileage? Sheen and Tennant go on holiday?

David: That's the Christmas special! One Foot in the Algarve! On the Buses Go to Spain!

Michael: I don't think we were thinking beyond three, were we?

So is it time for a conscious uncoupling for you two — Eric and Ernie say goodbye?

David: Oh, never say never, will we?

Michael: And it's more Hinge and Bracket.

David: Maybe that's what we do next — The Hinge and Bracket Story. CRAIG McLEAN

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justiceamberheard · 2 months

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''Who Trolled Amber'' podcast

The highlights of each episode from the podcast. You can listen to it on Spotify, Youtube etc. EPISODE 1.

The outcome of the trial definitely damaged #METOO movement;

There were 80k of anti Amber Heard tweets, more than anti JD tweets even though AH was the one who accused him of abuse;

There's no way it was all organic, they either bought bots or those were real people pretending to be JD's supporters;

According to Jennifer Robinson, one of AH lawyers from the UK trial, Amber'd never wanted to relieve what had happened to her during the relationship;

Jennifer thought it'd be easier to win the US than in the UK;

The information about bots were thrown out way before the trial hence Ron Shnell couldn't talk about in the courtroom; EPISODE 2.

According to Ron Shnell there was a bot campaign against AH but he wasn't 100% sure because the judge struck out that research;

Kathryn Arnold shared that AH wasn't allowed to be a part of Aquaman 2 promotion tour and was banned from posting anything Aquaman related;

KA also said that AH couldn't audition, no one would hire her and that the agents were told not to touch her[AH]; EPISODE 3

The podcast creators asked experts(Kai-Cheng Yang) to check the date that was given by Ron Shnell;

According to the data: many accounts with no followers had tweets with more than 5k retweets/likes; hundreds of identical tweets were posted in one day; many accounts liked 400k tweets; 10k of identical comments were left under AH youtube videos; many accounts change their tune(from right wing Chile politics) and out of nowhere started to post pro JD tweets; half oh the data/accounts/tweets were generated by inauthentic accounts and then the real accounts started to engage with those tweets etc. it all started in November 2020 when JD lost the UK case and was fired from Fantastic Beasts; EPISODE 4

Cameron Herrin case was mentioned, more specifically the sudden interest and pro CH posts on TikTok asking to reduce his sentence and that he is innocent. Most of the accounts that were spreading those posts were from Middle East; EPISODE 5

Some Arabic twitter accounts suddenly started to tweet Pro JD tweets in English during and after the US trial;

The friendship betweet Johnny Depp and prince Mohammed was mentioned(him financing JD directorial movie Modi); EPISODE 6

Adam Waldman worked for Lavrov as a consultant for years(2010-2017);

During the deposition Adam Waldman refused to answer more than 70 questions;

Alexi Mostrous tried contacting ''the internet journalists'' aka TUG and ThatBrianFella but they didn't answer; he also pointed out that the audios that were posted by ThatBrianFella were clearly edited(we know);

Mostrous also tried to call Adam Waldman but he didn't pick up the phone and 25 minutes later posted a tweet:

“He[Adam Waldman] attacked witnesses, he attacked us (legal team)..unlike anything I have ever seen from a lawyer” said Jennifer Robinson. ''Amber Heard wrote an Op-ed for Washington Post which is a very respected publication and Johnny Depp's name isn't in it. It told to survivors if this can be done to a woman whose actually well-known and well-established person in the industry, it's gonna be even worse for you.'' All-in-All, it's clear as day that Waldman was behind the bot campaign against Amber. We've known that but it's good that a popular podcast researched about it and shed a light on it. Plus it's always great to see JD fans being nervous and panicky.

#amber heard #i stand with amber heard #anti johnny depp #johnny depp #adam waldman #who trolled amber #highlights

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bitchlessdino · 9 months

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mood rings, drive thru theaters, and the latest issue of tiger beat (m)

Pairing: chan x college student!reader (afab) Genre: angst, smut, fluff Word count: 6.9k tags: SVTHUB COLLAB, set in the 70s, plot twist with dark ending (possibly triggering to some), pwithplot, tutor!reader, busty!reader, pining, brief mention of religion, mention of recreational drugs, mention of death, mention of medicine and medical practice, mention of tragedy (car crash), breeding kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex, couch sex, handjob cream pies, dirty talk. Summary: when you fall in love, it can feel like you’ll be with that person forever, that there isn’t another being in the world you rather be with. This case is just as heavy in your youth, tutoring a boy you’ve only ever walked circles around, while you wear a mood ring from his parents souvenir shop so you could feel closer to him. When it happens, you don’t expect things to crash harder than the way they do. author note: she's here!!! i might reedit later but i wanted to get this out before i changed my mind about the plot again so enjoy and check out the rest of the collab!!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun

Falling in love in the seventies wasn’t easy. You didn’t have mobile phones or text messaging, hell, you were lucky if you had email. Most people didn’t. That’s what made it so much harder to be a person stricken in love. All you had was paper, a pen, and the possibility of hearing something through your home landline.

Every day you would wait for the confirmation call he’d be coming. He was one of the polite ones. You were grateful to have formally met him through the tutoring program held in college and you look forward to that phone call and the weekly meetings every Tuesday and Wednesday to go over organic chemistry. Somewhere in that mix, you had hoped to find your own chemistry with him despite knowing how selfish that’d be.

You’d never admit it loud but you had the classic high school pining back when you attended the same classes in the same town. He was a sweetheart then just like he was a sweetheart now and you longed for him like any other teenager. He had you doodling combinations of your names together in a worn out notebook and cherishing an item you secretly associated with only him. Yours was a mood ring.

In the summer of 74’, a new souvenir shop had just opened around the block after countless failed businesses by previous owners. This shop was owned by the Lees, a cute mom-and-dad duo that was sweeter than any cream-filled Twinkee. There was not a thing intimidating about them. They seemed like good people. What you weren’t ready for was their son working the register that day.

What was it about a man in wide leg jeans and a tight fitted shirt that made you want to physically fall to your knees?

At the time, he was wiping a glass candy tray rather meticulously. He has only greeted whoever came in without looking, too focused on getting every dust particle out of every crevice, so he didn’t notice how you found him to be the most interesting sight you’ve seen.

His smile when seeing the swell job he’s done was priceless compared to every piece of merchandise in the store. If there was a chance you could bottle up and take it away for keeps, you would. You would tell the local newspaper this store would be a new world wonder just from this boy alone.

You had to pinch yourself to finally pull your eyes away from him, scanning for something, anything, interesting enough to purchase and ring it up with him. Finally, your eyes land on something colorful, ever-changing, and wearable.

“Will that be all for today?”

You nodded, holding back a wide grin as you watched him run through your purchase. His smile never faltered in front of you, and for some reason, it made you feel special, despite the assumption he probably smiled in front of anyone who came in. Still, it made an impression.

“That’ll be a dollar please and since you’re a new customer,” he picked something from a box behind the counter, “a pack of now and laters for the road. You can have one now and another later. They’re great.”

God, he’s cute.

You mused at him, accepting the ring and freebie after paying him up front. “Thank you.”

“Have a great day. Catch you on the flip side!”

You waved back at him on your exit, immediately regretting not staying longer to chat. As expected, your mind went blank the second he spoke to you, and the moment you were alone, you slid on the mood ring on your ring finger and focused all of your energy on thinking about the questions you could’ve asked. For him, that was like any interaction, but for you, it’ll be a core memory.

It was throughout the years you realized that you’d be attending the same high school, sharing the same senior year, experiencing the same last year festivities, but despite the many opportunities, you never had an encounter like that with him again. You’d pass by that souvenir shop countless times, glancing at him while he worked every shift, but cowardly never approached him again. Not with the lack of trying, of course, your adolescent self was too busy to find a way to make him fall in love with you according to whatever you read in Tiger Beat.

You remember flipping through it, back and forth, momentarily distracted by the boyish charm of David Cassidy, and then going back to reread it in case you missed something. This had been your adolescent bible to understand whatever was on trend because only God knew you needed it. Somedays, you’d pretend you were talking with him through your magazine posters. Now that was a face deserving to be in magazines.

“You’re still thinking about that boy? Just talk to him already.”

Even your closest friend, Stacey, couldn't get your head out of the clouds.

You adamantly shook your head, the magazine clung to your chest. “No, absolutely not. Me talking to him wouldn’t even happen in my dreams. In fact, I’d probably have to pay admission to see him in my dreams.”

She rolled her eyes, letting you get back to whatever exactly you were doing. “Okay, drama queen. We get it. You like a boy.”

She was used to this at that point and it’d be all the same. You never outgrew it entering colleges either, the same one he happened to attend, which you couldn’t have been more stoked to find out. “He’s not just any boy, Stacey. he’s the boy. He’s so far out. I can’t even fathom his existence.”

You were in fact exaggerating, but at the ripe age of 18 all of it felt sincere and you truly did believe it was all true.

And to think you hadn’t formally met him yet until you started participating as a tutor in a peer help program at your University. You didn’t expect much of it, only thinking of collecting some community hours and hopefully maintaining a good reputation with your professors and there he was, like fate. There he should, hair coifed in intentional pristine, a loosely buttoned vibrant green shirt, and familiar tightly fitted pants that flared from the bottom.

Your breathing seized, stunned by the sheer fact you have stood this close to him since the first time your eyes laid on him. When he turned to you, he didn’t seem to notice your reluctance to walk closer as he strode confidently in your direction.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Lee Chan. You're my tutor, right?”

Your heart sounded like a metronome at the highest speed at this point, taking your breathing in little by little, timidly returning him with your own introduction. Safe to say, you were both scared out of your mind, yet excited about this turn of events. Though, if you thought about it too hard, you had the chance of rendering tutorship useless and then it’s farewell to Chan.

That’s when you made the executive decision to omit him from your head during these sessions and treat him like any other peer needing help, as you initially intended with anyone you were assigned. If you wanted to continue these sessions and help out Chan, you needed to do more than think about what your future looked like together with 2.5 kids and a big picket fence.

You picked up a polite smile and settled in at a table, flipping a textbook to the first chapter of the course. Fortunately, he followed just as any other person struggling in chemistry and attempted to keep up with the lesson plan. As expected, you’d stumble over many of your teachings, forgetting some of the information yourself and having to refer to the book due to the blinding glow of your student, but as time passed, things eventually were more tolerable.

It was a few months later found an easier medium of being infatuated with the young man but helpful enough to pass the assignments in the above-average percentage. He just happened to be a good student that required more patience. Somewhat, it made you warm to learn that about him, including the fact he was good at listening, or how his eyes lit up picking up a lesson and recalling from memory. However, you kept this situation mostly professional, avoiding social interactions that would take away from your role. That was until Chan found comfort in spending time with you, having a sense of gratitude much grander than anyone teaching him Aldol reactions or valence electrons.

You could feel his soft gaze as you outlined something on his study sheet, emphasizing its importance since it’s appearing in the final he’d be taking eventually. If this were you back in the days of learning his name for the first time and thinking about him every waking second, you’d faint right about now. You’d be lying right now if you said you didn’t feel dizzy from the heat of his presence, but as you have been for the time spent together in the library, you’ve trained yourself to ignore it while mastering to subdue your intrusive thoughts.

Chan somehow found a way around that.

“Oh, your ring. Looks like the one in my parents' shop.”

You momentarily glanced back at the trinket before zone backing into today’s lesson, awkwardly chuckling to yourself. “Oh. Ha ha, that’s because it is.”

His eyes lit up the way they do, a cartoonish gleam in his eyes. “Really? I think I’d remember seeing you.”

“It was once a really long time ago.”

“Well, you should visit again. I can give you a good discount. We just got a big shipment of pop rocks.”

“Okay, sure.” You smiled, internally giggling at the thought of Chan entertaining himself with explosive candy and sharing it with you like the coolest treasure. “Alright. Organic compounds—“

“We really met before?” He interrupted.

“It really was so long ago. I’d be surprised if you did remember.”

“Well, I feel bad. I feel like there’s time it should be making up.”

You waved it off, not minding the now teary expression of guilt on his face. “It’s fine, Chan.”

“How about we go and watch a movie? I think the drive thru is replaying ‘The Godfather’. You should come with me.”

“Really? I don’t know.”

“Come on, consider it a thanks. You don’t even get paid for all the time you’ve spent teaching me.”

“No, but I get community hours. Speaking of teaching.” He placed his hand over yours, cuffing off the words caught in your throat. You find yourself helpless at the sweat pleas of Chan who works the cute angle all too well as he scooted closer to you. “I don’t think I can rest knowing I haven’t found a way to thank you. You’ve been tutoring me for 4 months. The least I can do is take you out.”

You’re a bit stunned, your leg already shaking in nerves as you never expected such a proposal to easily leave his lips and for you nonetheless. You exhaled, mustering the courage to meet his eyes before nothing, pressing your lips to discourage an all too gleeful smile. “Fine. We’ll watch ‘The Godfather’.”

He let you go, beaming, and tracking his pencil tracking over his notebook filled with chicken scratch that was comprehensible to him. “Good, I can pick you up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated before gluing his eyes back on the textbook, a noticeable hue of peak creeping up the back of his neck. “So, organic compounds...”

This arrangement was all you could think about until the day of, reading and rereading your magazines for possible outfit ideas, dating tips, and anything with the potential of making the best of this nerve-wracking situation.

On the day of, you got in your best get up just in time for the meetup. Anxiously, you turned your mood ring around your finger as you waited by the door, contemplating to yourself if what you chose was the right course of action. When the knock came, you came swinging the door open and pinched yourself from swooning seeing him in casual attire, including jeans that hugged his hips just right.

Chan, on the other hand, didn’t hide his emotions. Bright and animated, you grew hot under his watch, fiddling with the mood ring now on your middle finger and seeing it glare back a yellowish orange, indicating how nervous you really were. He took cautious steps towards you, mouth falling in awe, and he tugged at his band tee, which now felt lackluster compared to what his eyes were now seeing. “You look really good. I feel underdressed.”

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head and stepping down from the porch. “I just threw something on.”

“Well,” he offered an elbow, “shall we?”

You accepted his offer and hooked it through, hiding your elation. “Of course.”

He escorted you to the car and guided you to the passenger seat before closing the door, allowing you a moment to swallow the spaciousness of his station wagon before heading off to the theater.

Cars beside cars, people neither mingling, making out, or taking advantage of the concession stands with 25-cent popcorn and pop. The sun was in the process of setting before it became a violet hue and eventually pitch black, perfect for movies. You got out of the car and smoothed out the wrinkles of your outfit, taking another deep breath.

You only had a fleeting second seeing him come out from the driver's seat, a smile settling on his face for what felt like you and only you.

Then came the hoard. Voices calling out Chan’s name, boys and girls his age gathered around him, offering his gregarious greetings and rowdy conversation. They hounded him with hugs, not minding you who stood off from the side behind the cat. Your expression dropped, starting from your smile before spreading over your body language. Chan, remembering your existence, tugged you from the hood and brought you to his side. He briefly introduced you as his tutor, and you did your best to greet them back just as politely.

They nodded at you, sly faces towards Chan as if you wouldn’t notice, and then came their bombarding again, only this time in your presence. You kept up the calm facade, only laughing when necessary before turning to the person who brought you here. “Nice to meet you all. Hey, Chan. I’m gonna get some snacks.”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

You didn’t let the disappointment show on your face as you walked away but let it fall free as your back was towards the group. You hear their teasing and playful banter, questioning if you’re really just his tutor and Chan confirming, leaving no implication for anything else. You crossed your arms in embarrassment, already regretting letting this situation occur, imagining the worst scenarios to come.

You quietly asked for popcorn and a grape pop, greeted with your refreshments a few moments later, along with a box of raisinets. Your lips parted in confusion. “Oh, I didn’t order these.”

“On the house,” the guy winked, leaning over the counter a little too close for comfort, “a secret promotion for cuties like yourself.”

“Ah,” you gave him a tight-lipped grin, visibly distancing yourself, “thanks.”

“You know, I can always sneak away from my post for little liplock in—“

“Hey, you doing alright? I was worried about you.” You didn’t have to look to know. His body came crashing into yours. An arm slung over your shoulder, an action almost as natural as breathing. “Do you have enough?”

Your eyes flickered toward Chan who came to your rescue, nodding curtly. “Huh? Y-yeah.”

Chan met the seller's eyes before accepting your purchase for you, handing you over only the popcorn. You stared at the box of raisinets before he tugged you away from the stand.

“I did good, right? I’ve been told that guy’s a creep. I didn’t know he worked here.” His whisper sent chills through your body, yet burned your ears. You could feel the fanning of his breath, tickling your skin and raising every hair in your body.

“Me neither.”

“He’s not a good guy. You see him around, walk in the other direction ok?”

You nodded, taking his advice into serious thought. “Thanks, Chan.”

When it’s clear you’re out of sight, he parted from you, keeping his hands down his pockets, visibly apologetic. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable with that. He just won’t let it go unless he finds out you have a boyfriend or something.”

“Mmh-hmm.”

“Let’s get back to the others, hmm?”

You spent most of the night with Chan and his friends. Some laughed at how cheesy the movie was or actually scared of what was actually occurring (Chan was a mix between the two). You’d enjoy it more if you weren’t a bit bothered by the circumstances. All you could was glance in Chan's direction while he smiled and laughed along with his friends. Even though you were sitting next to him in the same car hood, you never felt further away. Every direction tonight felt like a punch in the gut, having only spoken to him before the movie started. At this point, you felt as if you had no place here, blinking away the humiliation tears threatening to fall.

“I’m a little cold. so I’m gonna finish the movie in the car.”

Finally, his eyes landed on you, “What?”

You slid off the hood and dusted yourself. Chan followed behind you confused before seating himself inside the car with you, a worried expression on his face. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not.” You splayed a less genuine smile, raising your cheekbones for good measure, but seeing its failure to convince otherwise.

“That means I did do something wrong,” he said, smiling bitterly. “Sorry. I’m not the best at picking up cues.”

“I told you, Chan. I just got cold.”

He sighed and turned to reach for something behind, pulling over something thick and warm over your body, covering your torso and legs. “Here. So you won’t catch anything.”

There’s that familiar clang to your heart you should be used to by now, following the marching band that typically arrives after inside your chest. “Thank you.”

You both sat in silence for a bit, continuing to watch the rest of the movie. He makes so attempt to communicate with his friends outside and he doesn’t smile, only focusing on the movie, insistent on being in your presence. You aren’t sure how to behave, fingers inching at lingering awkwardness.

“If I’m being honest,” You started saying, filling the charged air with something other than tension, “I didn’t expect to see that many people with us.”

“You didn’t?”

You shook your head. “I misunderstood all on my own. Don’t worry about it. Let’s just finish the movie.”

“Hey—“

“I’m feeling warmer already,” You said, grinning as yourself deeper into the blanket.

Your eyes were ready to train back in the movie before he spoke again, hearing a tone in his voice you weren’t all that familiar with. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable alone with me. I guess I did anyway.”

Guilt festered in the out of your stomach, regretting making a big scene out of nothing. “That’s not—“

“I got scared,” he admitted, the corner of his lips quirking up in a self-loathing grin. “They already saw my tickets so they thought they would get some too. Make it a group thing. I didn’t want it initially, but I thought, maybe it’d make things easier…I should’ve run it by you.”

You met his eyes, earnest yet soft. You didn’t know how to respond to any of this, processing his confession slowly. A fit of emotions wash over him and you see now the inner conflict that he had dealt with, somehow washing you over with relief. The final deep exhale you let out was solace, thinking to yourself how situations like this only happen in movies and books. You’re warm all over, an overwhelming urge to reach over and hug him, a fellow rambling mess.

“You didn’t misunderstand anything. I did want to go to the movies with you, but I wasn’t sure if you felt pressure or—“

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his. He stiffened under your touch, blinking back at you like a lost child. You smiled back at him from ear to ear and body leaned over on his side. “Just hold my hand. We’re not going to cause any more misunderstandings. Okay?”

He matched you, his pearly whites staring back at you as pretty as ever. “Okay.” His thumb caressed over your fingers, noticing something interesting as he did so. “It’s purple.”

“Hmm,” You looked down at your clasped hands, noticing that same thing he did: your mood ring in a solid rich purple. “It is.”

“Do you remember what purple means?”

You avoid edhis eyes, quietly laughing to yourself. “You know better than anyone.”

“I do.” He tightened his grip, head leaning against your shoulder and it felt as if time had stopped. You don’t doubt that he can hear your heart racing right or your uneven breathing. He turned the ring around your digit, watching how the colors periodically shift. “I won’t let there be any more misunderstandings.”

Since that incident, you went about your tutoring sessions as normal, with the additional intimacy that didn’t exist before. You both gradually developed these sessions into more study dates and then they became real dates. Things only became official when the semester finally ended and he continued wanting to see you, visiting your place whenever you got the chance using any possible excuse.

You could remember how happy you felt at the time. The relief there was to know he liked you back. It was almost as if you were living a dream. A damn perfect dream.

Then your first kiss came around. You were as nervous as anyone anticipating the first. Every doubt in the past didn’t matter, only now did. Everything all led up to this point. It just happened in the way you least expected it to.

You didn’t know why he insisted on teaching you how to play arcade games when he was just as bad. Still, it was cute seeing him try so hard. The firmness of his back followed your movement, guiding you to the right combos, shifting the joystick to move in the right direction, and although it was all wrong, you appreciated the back hug you were getting in return. Even the claw machine had to be a teaching lesson, insisting he had something to teach you.

“I did it. Chan, I did it!” You saw the stuffed dinosaur grabbed by the metal prongs, dropping right into the winner’s slot. You bounced on your feet cheering and took Chan along with you, hugging him tightly as your inner child healed and squealed at your achievement.

“I knew you could! You’re amazing.” His strong arms came around you firmly, pressing you against the glass of the machine.

Your breath was seized, replaced with weightlessness and tension in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to leave and perhaps you didn’t want it to. Although he didn’t pull away from the embrace, he parted far enough to meet your eyes and the longing in them. He knew what it was because that’s what was in his eyes, falling into their trance like a lucid dream that had him higher than any recreational drug. Neither one of you was willing to let it go, so all you do is stare. Stare at each other like you’re in your own world and no one else’s. As if life as you know it ceased to exist except for you and Chan. Nothing else matters.

When it felt as if you could imagine a more perfect moment, he leaned in with closed eyes, finding your lips like they were a second home and stealing your breath. You thought to lean in to kiss him deeper, but he already had found his grasp and pressed into you closer against the glass, feeling every ounce of muscle and shape of his body beneath his clothes. His shallow breath against yours, his hug of lips pulling at your bottom lip, and he emitted a soft grunt.

He pulled away from you with his arms still wrapped around your sides, shocked by his impulsivity. He stroked the side of your head, scanning for any fear in your eyes, slightly relieved to see any in sight. “I’m sorry. That was…a lot, huh?”

You shook your head reassuringly. “No.”

“Then I can kiss you again?”

The corners of your lips turned up, gripping his jean jacket to pull him closer. “Yes.”

You were kissing for hours that day and the next day, and then again the day after. Since then, something has shifted and these teenage dreams turned reality into something less family friendly. Your nights in his dorm became more frequent, more intimate, and always backed by a melody thanks to a record player gifted to him by his dad when he moved out. His prized possession, besides you anyway, as he claimed.

“What do you want to be when you’re older,” he asked, dragging his digits in and out between yours. He smiled, noticing your mood ring turning a mix of pink and purple before kissing your knuckles. “You know I want to be a nurse. What’s your dream?”

In the background was Led Zeppelin, their intoxically addictive tune spinning on the table. You thought to yourself a bit before turning your head back up at him, nuzzling closer into his warm touch before answering. “I want…to be surrounded by the people I love.”

He laughed like he heard the sweetest thing on planet Earth before his fingers threaded through your hair. “Baby, that’s sweet but not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant, but it’s what I want. It doesn’t matter much what I do, as long as I’m with my loved ones.”

“Am I one of these loved ones? Do you love me?”

“Yeah. I love you.” You didn’t even hesitate, the words were always on the tip of your tongue until that final push. You lifted alight above him to repeat yourself louder. You let him heed your words. “I think I really love you.”

You thought he’d react differently, more scared and unsure but—“I love you too.”

“Chan,” you smile, warm filling your inside as you let your breath chase away the race in your chest.

“I mean it.” He bent his head down to meet your lips, cupping your cheek with the warmth of his palm. “I really, really love you.”

Chan toppled over you, lips meeting yours repeatedly in a heated frenzy, caressing your body and holding you desperately against him as you did the same to him. He kept you between his legs, whispering it over and over, ‘I love you, I love you,’ blistering and marking your skin. How was it that made you feel as if you weren’t allowed to breathe?

Before you realize it, clothes started coming off. Piece by piece. As ‘Babe I’m gonna leave you’ replayed, shirts, belt, pants, and everything underneath fell to the ground. You saw him. You saw all of him. And he saw all of you. Your instinct was to shield away, be conscious of your then and there but in his own way, he reassures you, speaking to you as though all his words were nothing but the earnest truth. “I’m here. You’ll never have to worry about me not being here. I love you so much.”

Your flesh spilled through his fingers, imprinting his hands through your nude. Sounds of worship leaving his lips between every kiss, not even the worry of lack of condoms could stop him. Your thighs were glued to his hips, and you felt the warmth of his length titter to your fresh heat. You moaned every time you met lips, every bite he gave to your skin, and every full twist his fingers made with your sensitive buds before filling the inside of his oral cavity of your full breast.

You ached to have him in you, hand barely reaching his girth before wrapping a tight wrist around him. He shuddered at your touch, thrusting through the circle of your palm. You felt the need in his movement as he grinded down on his couch, not minding the wool burn inevitable to be left behind. Weak chuckles escaped his lips and he flashed you a smile, seconds away from melting into helpless groans. “You know just how to handle me…”

“Only because you treat me so well.”

Kissing one breast and then the other, he reached your lips as he held your thighs against the sides of his torso. “And I’ll do it for as long as I’m alive.”

You looped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself against him, his warm breath tickling the tip of your nose. “Make love to me. I wanna feel you inside me.”

“Then I won’t wait a second longer.”

The moment you felt him inside you, you felt higher than anything you could find in a blunt offered by the shady next-door neighbor. You buckled into him, lifting your hips off the couch for a fully bloomed taste. The stretch he left had your jaw falling, clutching to his shoulder, and letting out exasperated breaths. You nearly choked on your own spit that had only forced it down when he picked up the pace.

You molten walls only sucked him in deeper, calling his name in blurred whines. Each thrust and each kiss was fueled by an undying passion. He carried you, palm to your back and your legs around his waist, and pulled you on top of him. From beneath you, he drilled your insides, meeting your longing expression.

Your fingers draped over his face, and you held on to his blissful expression that occasionally dropped in anguish when chasing after his rhythm. You whined his name desperately, clinging to him as you dug down your hips down his lap. He moaned louder than before, gingerly cupping your breasts and finding your stiff nipples between his fingers.

“You feel so good taking me…and your tits are so soft and warm.” He pushed himself to thrust hard, pleased with how easily you easily bounced against him, watching your flesh moving loud and fluidly like water. “You’re so perfect to hold, and love, and fuck my dick into—shit.”

Your chest rose and fell catching up with his efforts. “Chan, I love you so much.”

“I love you too. So, so, so—fuck!”

You felt his grip grow tighter and saw his jaw drop lower. His legs clenched to your sides impulsively, unwilling to let go. Soon enough, he couldn’t take it anymore and came inside you. He looked as if everything in his brain told him not to, but it seemed that nothing could stop the geyser within him from coating your insides with hot ivory. He snapped into you in an erratic rhythm, cum spilled in you and out of him until it stained the wool underneath.

Chan was red in the face, both in embarrassment and heat. He looked up at you in panic at the direness of circumstance considering neither one of you thought to stay protected. “Shit, fuck,” he exclaimed still pumping inside you, “you feel so good. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, bending down to kiss him. “It’s okay, just don’t stop…please…”

His stressed expression melted, as did his fingers into your skin. He caressed over your sides with love in his eyes, swallowing nervously. “Really, baby? That ok?”

Perspiration coated his skin, beading down his adam’s apple as it bobbed. You felt like mush in his touch, letting your hips make use of the natural lubricant. Your boyfriend groaned at the sound of the slick moisture sliding over his skin. You cupped his face in your hands, working your jaw in a needy liplock. “Yes, please. Fuck your cum in me, please.”

His fingers tensed, dragging your lips to slap down on his. He exhaled slowly, your walls hugging his cock erect. He asked in a breathy voice, “Fuck my cum in you…my pretty girlfriend wants something so dirty done to her?”

“Yes, yes, please…” You whined.

He slammed up into you, feeling how he’s already bottoming out inside you. Hearing you moan his name lit a fire beneath him and he rolled you on your back to rut in you like a merciless animal.

“You want my cum in you, hmm? Fill you up with my cum and put my fat load in you?”

You jerked in the opposite direction, your skin smacking against each other causing the tenderness of your skin. “Yes, please,” You choked out, “I want it all with you.”

His lips picked up from the corner in a smirk, turning you back over to plant you against the couch while his feet finally touched the ground. “You want it all? Like a life? A family? You want me to build a family with me…have me fuck my babies into you?”

“Yes, baby, please. I want you to fill me up so I can make you a daddy.”

“You love me that much?” He slammed into you with a proud smile. “You love me so much you see your future with daddy?”

You batted your lashes back at him. “I see every day either full of joy or full of your cum inside me.”

He snickered before biting his lips in a filthy moan, “Such a dirty mouth on the mother of my kids.”

You’re spent by the time your legs gave out, and you and your boyfriend exhausted your bodies to the point you couldn’t move even an inch off the couch. Cum seeped out of your holes like sap, only halted as you pressed your legs together to get comfortable. Chan had barely enough energy to tug a blanket off from behind him and throw it over your bodies. You smiled into his warmth, nuzzling into his chest, and inhaling his lusty musk.

You moaned in satisfaction. “Mmh, I like this…”

“Me too.” He hummed.

“I never want this to end.”

“And it won’t,” he said, kissing the temple of your forehead.

“Are you hungry?”

You moaned. “Starving.”

He chuckled, holding you closer to him as his voice dropped an octave. “Let’s fill you up with something, hmm?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you lightly shoved him. “Chan…”

“Food, babe,” he said with a cheeky smile, “get your mind out of the gutter.”

After a quick shower, and a few wet kisses in between, you’re set to refresh yourselves with some fast food and can’t help but be filled with elation. You cozied into the passenger seat accepting the hand he’s offered as the other steadied the wheel. You can’t help but notice how he glanced every now and then when he shouldn’t, making you nudge him to fix his gaze.

It was always a loving one, one that you’d forever burn in your memory. You don’t even know why, but you shed a tear looking at it. That smile of his seems to go on for miles and brightens your day like the morning sun. You felt it in your heart. Something suffocating that you couldn’t describe but all you think in your head is that this was love and that loving Chan would be the easiest thing you could do.

He sent you another glance before making a turn, one a little longer than the few before, then all you heard was a loud blaring honk, your voice screaming his name, and then your vision went pitch black. You stared into darkness. Emptiness. Nothing was in sight.

That was until your eyes were open again. You woke in a place of all white, smelling of antiseptic and a hint of febreeze. You slowly blinked, scanning the room, unmoving. Still, in fact.

“Good afternoon, Sunshine. Sleep well?”

You only could see who entered when they walked in your field of vision. Your eyes stared in shock at the sight of your boyfriend, smiling back at you in scrubs as he wrote away in his clipboard and looking as if he hadn’t aged a day. You internally screamed at your body to move, crying from within the inside at the inability, and then soon growing tired, realizing it’d never be possible. As he put away documents in a file holder pinned to the high wall, you stressed your throat to speak, hoping for the least a sound to follow, but instead, it was your silence.

“I’ll just open the blinds a bit, make sure they’re not too much light in your eyes. Too bad your nap was a little long. The weather was so good. I thought we could roll you out into the garden.”

You are losing your mind. The last thing you could remember was a car accident that felt like mere seconds ago and staring into the eyes of the man before you, who matched the love in your eyes. Now you’re imprisoned in your own immobile body, with no clue why and how the love of your life survived when you barely did.

“Your heart is pounding. Wait a second.”

Chan strode over to the monitor just out of view, forcing yourself to rely on your peripheral to watch him. His side profile and his body were all within reach but unassessable. You felt the sweat of your palm through the sheer determination alone, but to no avail, he stayed away from your grasp.

“Hmm, we’ll have to figure that out.”

Finishing up, he stood in front of you like a figure of light radiating brightness unfathomable to man. A light bright enough to fully grasp your reality. Your true reality.

That’s right. He’s not your boyfriend. You were never together.

You’ve been the way you were for two years, by a car accident nonetheless. This was Nurse Lee–your caretaker and nurse–who insisted you call him by name and talked to you as if you could talk right back.

And this wasn’t the 1970s. It was the 2070s.

Your gaze quickly turned to “Three's a Company” playing on the highly advanced TV plastered on the wall, momentarily surprised that they still had the show on cable, before snapping right back to your nurse, now going on about the daily work gossip. You couldn’t help but stare again, watching his handsome face turn up in a smile every time something delightful popped into his pretty little head as he spoke. Your eyes fluttered in remorse, a familiar sinking feeling in your chest as you inhaled and exhaled through your breathing tubes.

It all made so much sense. Too much in fact. Here you were in dreamland living in disbelief that someone as sweet and kind and Charming as Lee Chan—nurse Lee Chan—would ever be someone so madly in love with you. You lived a happy and healthy and normal life in your dreams, shutting off from the dark truth of your world is, as if you’ve never been in this accident. You dreamt of life before it was taken away before you narrowly escaped death.

If you could call this escaping death anyway. You were practically dead.

And perhaps the worst part—

“Vivian liked the flowers you suggested. I think she’ll finally stop being mad at me thanks to you.”

He gently moved your head to fluff the pillow behind you and placed you back on top. He brushed away a hair that strayed over your face, and you felt a sensation pulse through your fingers. “I wish you could meet her. You’ve always been there to listen to me talk about the wedding planning, the bridal stuff, and then the actual wedding. I hope you liked the photos, the guy we hired was—phew—a pretty penny.”

You started to blink rapidly, seeing your reality crumbling before you, and all he could do was look as devastatingly beautiful as always, even with the dark circle under his eyes from long hours of work.

“I talk a lot, huh? That’s what you’re thinking. Sorry, you’ve always been a listener, not that you can help it.” He chuckled to himself. “Sorry, dark joke. I’m sure if you could move now, you’d laugh.”

No, you wouldn’t.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a second. Don’t worry.”

He did the last round of his thorough check-up of your room before standing by the door with his clipboard in hand. Clicking his pen, he turned back to you one last time with a smile now turned bittersweet.

“Any day now. Your heart pulses a little faster every day. Your family is waiting for you. And because I’ve grown attached to you I’m waiting for you too. Maybe after all this, we could be friends, then you can tell me how much you love or hate when I talk to you. Just as long as you’re up and running again.”

The moment the door closed, you were alone again. The fluid built in your tear ducts finally found their escape and streamed down your still face, facing their discomforting warmth. Your chest heaved, your grew breaths shallow, your throat went dry, and suddenly your lips quivered. In solitude and sheer desperation, you said your first words in years.

“Chan…come…back…”

But it didn’t matter.

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paper-mario-wiki · 5 months

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I'm sure you've been asked this before, but I need a source who isn’t wildly out of touch with what it's like to be a normal person. how financially viable was it to move to japan as a 20/21 year old? did you move there with assistance from a study program? were you able to afford everything relatively easily without an extreme amount of financial stress? sorry for being nosy. I dont need specifics, I'm just terminally curious for a firsthand account from a person who isn't independently wealthy or a 70 year old retiree. ❤️

For one semester of tuition I (my parents) paid:

$5000 without scholarship

$3000 with scholarship

Scholarship was granted on the basis of academic promise and financial guarantor status, and some students had their fees reduced by 75% and 100%.

Tuition was the thing my parent's helped me with the most, as they had saved up for all my siblings to go to college, and only my sister and myself did. But like I said, there was also significant tuition help for students worldwide at my school. Everything else I paid myself.

Before I moved I made sure I had no less than $5000 in pocket money for paying my move-in fees at my apartment, getting a Japanese phone, bank account, insurance, and a bike. After that, home appliances and necessities. When you make your budget, you always want to over prepare. I made sure I had $1000 wiggle room on top of my budget because once youre there, YOURE THERE and home is a long puddle away.

My rent was $600 for a small 1 room apartment (pictured here) that I would have paid less for if I spoke Japanese (paid the gaijin tax by going through an english speaking rental company)

I chose this apartment because of its proximity to the Karasuma subway line, which I could ride directly to school. There and back was about $4 a day, as I went all the way up town. I paid about $40 in utilities on low-use months, and up to $120 on high-use months.

Monthly insurance was $70 without student subsidy, I believe closer to $10 monthly with it. This covers basically everything healthcare-wise.

Food was cheap in Kyoto specifically. Most restaurants had meals under $10, and if you're moving there for school theres a high liklihood you'll be in the city, which means you'll rarely be more than a 3 minute walk from a convenience store which has lunch sets you can take home or reheat and eat in the konbini's sitting area (not guaranteed to have one but more frequent than not having one). I spent maybe a few hundred monthly on meals, mostly because I couldn't cook due to how small my kitchenette was (it's that little stall in the back left corner of the room in the picture).

As an international student, if you're performing above a certain threshhold in your studies you can get a baito visa, meaning on top of your studies you can work a part time job for up to 20 hours a week. This can help a lot, and I knew a few people who worked at clubs, as translators, and as baristas.

If you are making money, you are expected to either pay tax to Japan, or your home country. This is something I absolutely cannot give advice on.

All that said, in my case, living in Japan as a solo adult was easier and significantly more affordable than living in the US with 3 roommates.

#anon

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coqxettee · 6 months

Text

Coquette Winter Gift Guide:

🎀 Gift ideas for yourself or your friends who love the Coquette aesthetic:

Clothes/Fashion:

1. Anything from Brandy Melville (Amara heart lace pyjamas)

2. Bailey bow uggs or normal uggs

3. Ralph Lauren sweaters

4. A ballet wrap

5. Floral pyjama sets, Cami’s & Long sleeve shirts

6. Grandma cardigans

7. A cable knit sweater

8. Legwarmers/pretty tights

9. A pair of cute gloves

10. ANY clothing from “Mymummadeit”

11. ANY clothing from “Favourite child collective”

12. Any clothing from the “Cutey” section on Romwe

13. A dress/anything from “Selkie”

14. Any slogan tee’s / baby tee’s from small businesses and independent brands

15. Victoria secret Pyjamas/Robe

16. Pink puffa coat

17. Tiffany & co earrings or necklace

18. The “Mymummadeit” puffa bag

19. Kate spade heart bag/Vivienne Westwood one or just a heart purse

20. A printed tote bag

21. Ted baker bags/cosmetic bags

22. Any dresses from - Cider, Motel rocks, Pretty little thing, Oh polly

23. A ballet skirt

24. ECOSUSI summer garden romance bags

25. A cape/fur shaul//A glam doll coat

26. Vintage nightgowns/nightwear

27. Cute earmuffs & things to decorate them with

28. Mary Janes & frilly ankle socks

Beauty:

29. Any products from “Glossier”

30. Dior (addict) makeup products (Lip oil’s, Blush, lip balm,

31. Anything from “Flowerknows” “Etude house” “Too faced” or “Charlotte Tilbury” “C beauty mall products”

32. Chanel lipstick

33. A quilted floral coquette makeup bag

34. W7 Tinted kiss lip oil

35. Miss Dior perfume

36. Chanel mamoiselle perfume

37. Any of the Ariana Grande perfumes/body sprays

38. Penhaligons “The favourite”

39. Oriana “Parfums de Marly”

40. Victoria secret body sprays

41. Paul & Joe Cinamoroll collection

Homeware:

42. The Amazon floral bedsheets

43. A heart mirror

44. Love shack fancy homeware items

45. Anything from Paris Hilton’s new cookery line

46. A ballerina/music box jewellery box

47. Pink/Vanilla Yankee candles

48. FreePrints photos to make a wall collage

49. Roccoco style picture frames

50. An angel tray dish

51. Fake flowers

52. Pretty Cushions / A large throw fluffy blanket,

53. Caroline medium jewellery case

54. Fake cake jewellery boxes

55. Tall candles and a candle holder

56. Posters of celebrity’s/artists etc

57. Any pretty art that can be displayed/put into frames

Self care:

58. Spa headbands, and wrist bands (Kylie skin headband)

59. Inn is free skincare products

60. Philosophy shower and skin products

61. Chanel eye patches

62. Mulberry silk eye mask (pink)

63. Look fantastic heartless hair curlers

64. Dior prestige skin products and body lotions

65. Baylis & Harding products

66. Angel tangle brush

67. Charlotte Tilbury skincare gift sets

68. Elasti - cream

69. Embellished claw clips

70. Sol de Janerio body cream

71. Mugs, hand warmers, face masks, lip scrubs

Miscellaneous: ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚

72. AirPod max

73. Wildflower phone cases & airpod cases

74. A pink waterbottle (Stanley or Lululemon)

75. Lana del rey vinyls

76. Coquette notebooks

77. Dior & Chanel fashion books

78. My year of rest and relaxation

79. The seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo

80. Jellycats

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛

I hope this helped you think of some ideas of things you want to ask or get someone for Christmas 🎀✨🎄

Merry Pinkmas coquette doves

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛

#baby pink #coquette #coquette aesthetic #lana del rey #girly pink #girly #girly aesthetic #girly girl #girly kei #girly stuff #coquette christmas #pinkmas #christmas

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