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koishua · 2 months

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the fimmies' coachella perf was... certainly something. let me scream about the new song hot & fun for second before continuing BECASHHRHH THE WAY SSAMU CAME IN WITH HER IT GIRL ENERGY I DIED THIS IS SOOOOO HER SONG ISTG THE CHORUS WHERE SHE WAS IN THE CENTER 1-800-HOT AND FUNNNNNNN UNDER THE RED LIGHT SHE ATE THIS SHIT UPPPPP she was so into the perf i loved her energy and she sounded insane. she was deffo feeling herself the most imo my bae.

aaaanyways on with the perf in general i mean you CAN see improvement on the live singing department and they have been preparing for two months and some.... but was it coachella-ready? doubtful kind of i mean their songs are on the lower range (relative to more typical gg songs) and that sounds amazing on studio versions, but unless completely relaxed and stationary, singing them will always be very difficult ESP!! with hybe choreographies 😭😭 i mean im happy they stood still when singing their parts instead of continuing to sing with the choreo (ähem ähem proof of virtually everyone relying heavily on playback during music shows) but for 40 minutes ofc they're going to run out of stamina but that's what carries a perf in the first place so i don't get why they didn't get sent AFTER they became stamina beasts or sth 💔💔

i love my girls so so much they're my absolute faves since long long long before their debut but it hurts my soul not to be able to defend their live singing ahahhahaha amazing performers no doubt!!! their energy was insane that night they were so hype and the crowdwork was amazing omg (nice work deflecting the difficult endings of phrases into sth to hype the stage ahahah) but it was so so apparent how much they had to catch their breaths in between :( and it sucks how ppl get disappointed when they hear actual live stages when the entertainment industry, especially in korea where perfection is implemented and wanted EVERYWHERE, heavily edits the audio and processes them before posting them on youtube and call it "live". even the closest things you can call to "live" have some sort of tuning through the mics on the spot so they can be very deceptive to people's singing abilities and not to tear some ppls' horns but leemujin is SOOO heavily processed too!! plus the reverb on mics always make you sound better and the mics on coachella didn't have much reverb (for at home viewers, not live on-site) and that's BRUTAL oml so yeah idk what to say and wow what a tangent i went on im sorry but it pisses me off. what's called "live" ISN'T 100% live most of the time and that should be common knowledge oh my freaking gosh killing voice too!!!

BUT HEY OMG WE GOT THE GREATEST MERMAID FOUK YESSSS

#tp #idk what my point was i forgot anyways they could have waited until next year but idk #i truly do love them pls don't doubt it 😭😭 they have lovely lovely lovely voices. it's just being an idol is HARD and it's... v apparent #JONGHO ON THE OTHER HAND MY GOD WHAT AN ABSOLUTE UNIT!!!#back to listening beloved fujii kaze's tiny desk #now THAT is sum good stuff i love him so much so happy he started off with matsuri #also btw im happy with the coachella performances!! could have been a nightmare but they pulled it off... somehow #le sserafim #i feel like one of those overly hateful kpop youtubers 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#nooo

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piinkyypriincess · 5 months

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LETTER'S TO MY LOVELY

Shinichi Okazaki x American!OC

"I Love You."

Main Paring ~ Shinichi Okazaki x American x American!OC

Warnings ~ Body insecurity, grooming, anxiety, rude behavior, the demon lord, reira, REIRA, REIRA!!

Spoilers ~ Yes!

Masterpost ~ Here.

Beta Read/Edited ~ No (No Beta Lmao)

Word Count ~ 2.1k Words

Chp Summary ~ Two nickels weren't a lot, but it was weird that it happened twice. A walk through Shibuya let's Penelope make another friend.

Chp 3 ~ Two Nickels for Penny.

Penelope had missed her stop when Shinichi caught her off guard by thanking her.

As the doors squeaked closed she yipped, and attempted to slide through the door. It closed last second, her body was not as thin as Shinichi’s.

Her body was not as thin as most people in Japan now that she thought about it. She swallowed thickly, opting to shove the saddening thoughts to the back of her mind and play with the boy's shiny belt buckle.

The next stop was a fifty-minute commute from where she was staying instead of a five-minute brisk walk. With a deep sigh, the girl groaned and looked back at the people on the train. Some of the people who stayed for the next stop looked up at her with curiosity lingering in their eyes, others with something short of disgust.

Penelope bit her bottom lip raw and looked down at the gifted leather belt with warm ears.

Looking up at the metros schedule on the electronic teleprompter, the next stop was Shibuya. Shibuya was known for its livelihood and the different cultures that made teens gravitate towards it. Shibuya and Harajuku absolutely take the cake regarding fashion; both are known to be the epicenters of fashion in Japan.

The girl didn't plan on adventuring so far outside of Shinjuku yet, but now as the train started to slow, she realized she'd have to. She wouldnt waste her weekly stedipend money on a cab, regardless if it was generous amount.

An hour walk is how long It would take her to get back to her hotel, Penelope sighed, defeated. It could have been worse.

The teen unwrapped her oversized light pink jacket around her waist, and pulled it over her red, long-sleeved shirt that had a lacy trim on the top. Only then had she realized that her shirt had shifted upwards slightly to show the flesh of her stomach.

Quickly the girl pulled the shirt down, and shoved her small map inside the concealed compartment on the inside lining of the cotton jacket. She placed her phone in her pocket and took the black belt with both hands.

Penelope looped the accessory around her light-washed, baggy jeans without looking up, and pulled the jacket down to cover the designer item. Looking up, some of the metro carts passengers made an effort to advoid eye contact.

Some stared at her in disgust again, which made her shiver, but look away embarrassed.

A grim frown painted Penelope's face as she also remembered she didn't even get the boy's number.

A potential friend was now a figment of her past and all she had to show for his small existence in her mind, was his belt of all things.

“February fourteenth must be been cursed,” she thought offhandedly.

Valentine's day, of all days, had been bittersweet.

When Penelope got off the train, she immediately noticed the amount of life Shibuya had on its streets during the romantic holiday.

There was a mass amount of people in separate groups, and duos, laughing with their friends, families, and lovers. Everyone seemed to be out with their loved ones to soak up all of what the city had to offer.

The girl's eyes were practically stuck open as she walked through the streets slowly; Shibuya was everything and more than what people described it as.

Every turn had something more bizarre and thrilling than the last; she found herself craving whatever sweet-smelling rice dish a stall was selling as she walked through the town.

Twenty minutes into her first walk down the city's colorful streets, Penelope was distracted by colorful, heart-shaped lights strung overhead where an all-male band was performing a pop-rock song. The people in the crowd were rowdy but appeared to be enjoying themselves as they danced to the melody flowing from the amps.

The American girl was so caught up in listening to the music, and reminiscing about the brown-haired boy that occupied the forefront of her mind, that she bumped into somebody.

It wasn't just a light brush against somebody's forearm, no, she slammed into somebody else, her body bouncing backward from the impact.

A woman with salmon pink loose curls looked back at her, her eyes covered with large designer black sunglasses. The hat on her head made most of her features indescribable, as well as the dark grey coat that wrapped around her body.

The woman's hands came up to her face in a look of surprise, Penelope bowed her body at an angle in respect. “I'm sorry! Please forgive me!” the girl said apologetically, cursing her clumsiness and stupidity internally.

A hole could rip open in the Earth below her and she would welcome it to swallow her whole.

The woman made a shrieking sound in the back of her throat and held her hands up understanding, “It's okay! You're fine!” she replied, pulling up her coat even more.

The girl frowned; the air in Tokyo was still cold to her, as a Flordia native where the sun mostly always shines, but it wasn't freezing for such a thick trench coat. Spring weather was edging the air of Shibuya with a brisk breeze.

Suddenly the woman pulled her glasses down for a moment with dark brown curious eyes. “Woah! Your eyes are so pretty!” The woman whisper yelled to the younger, a shocked expression dropping her jaw.

Penelope blinked in surprise. She scratched at the top of her head as her dark curls covered her cheeks embarrassed. “Thank you, your uh…” the girl gestured to the woman's long salmon-dyed tresses that fell to her mid-back. She tugged at a curl of her own hair and pointed at the woman; an understanding smile fell upon the woman's lips.

“Sorry my Japanese isn't good -- I'm a foreigner.” Penelope sighed frustrated, unable to properly communicate with those around her. She was slowly picking up the language as she roamed Chofu and Shinjuku.

The woman removed her glasses with a look of relief and excitement. “Oh!” she said, tense shoulders slouching into a relaxed hunch.

“Do you speak English?” She replied in Penelope's mother tongue.

Penelope's maple-syrupy brown irises glazed over with appreciation. “Yes, I do!” she responded immediately.

“Your hair is gorgeous, I love the color! Pink is one of my favorite colors,” The younger said with a proud smile, playing with her coil of black hair between her fingertips. Penelope had never thought of dying her hair before, her parents would never allow it.

Or god-forbid she cut the long curls off, they may go into cardiac arrest all the way in America. After all, looking the part for a job, looking professional, was important.

No matter the age apparently, according to them.

The mysterious woman looked professional though; she possessed a mature, doting aura that almost reminded Penelope of her second grade art teacher she adored.

The lady in gray giggled, the sound seemingly childish almost, but her voice had a rasp of age. She couldn't be anymore than twenty-five but couldnt be younger thsn eighteen.

“Thank you! Mine's purple actually,” she commented with an angelic hum.

Penelope drew her dark brows together in shock, she tilted her head in confusion, trying to soak in the mystery woman's concealed appearance. “Oh really? Why pink hair then?” She asked curiously.

The woman's mouth opens to respond, but is cut off by the screaming of the crowd as the guitarist of the band does a solo riff. “Long story!” she giggles out nervously.

The lady rocks backward on chunky heeled boots that contradict her entire professional, mysterious outfit. Penelope is sure she has seen multiple ads for the expensive boots displayed in magazines.

“You should dye your hair, you have such pretty curls!” The woman says, grabbing her hand affectionately.

Her lips stretch into a smile of adoration, and it has Penelope blinking. All she did was compliment her hair, but their conversation was very pleasant.

Penelope felt her cheeks heat almost as if she was blushing, “Thank you miss..” she trailed off with raised brows and curious big eyes.

The woman only laughed at her lost expression “Call me Layla,” She said with a smile. Her clear gloss was subtle with a pink tint, the girl noticed a beauty mark dotted by the corner of the woman's lip.

Penelope nodded, giving the mysterious-but-not-so-mystery woman's hand an appreciative squeeze.

Layla's pink-painted acrylic nails tickled the top of Penelope's sensitive skin as she moved to cup both the girl's hands in her pale ones. "Thank you, Ms. Layla!” she giggles involuntarily at the touch.

“No problem!” Ms. Layla smiles and Penelope takes that as a queue to end their conversation.

She goes to pull away, but the woman's hands hold onto her smaller ones tightly. Realizing her involuntary actions, the lady lets go with a sheepish grin.

The woman's eyes are intensely staring back into her own. Penelope can feel herself curl into her oversized jacket, almost uncomfortable being in the direct attention from an older woman.

“Jeez, your eyes are really so pretty and big! You're like a life size babydoll! So cute~” Layla draws the word out childishly. Penelope's face gets warmer, her heart drums faster in her chest at the pinkette's words.

Unlike Shinichi, who had a boyish charm, mature vocabulary, and sly smile; Layla was playful with an air of mystery around her.

“Thank you!” Penelope responded with a respectful smile. Layla is certainly an interesting character in Penelope's eyes so far. She seems like a warm big sister, almost like how a Mother should have been.

Much like the boy she met today, they were both total contradictions for people given their ages; but both kind in their separate ways.

Shinichi was lovely, Layla was doting.

The crowd started to scream again as the rock band finished their set, couples bouncing around each other with joy.

Crew members infiltrated the stage from a cornered off staircase, and began to set up the next act's equipment on the Valentines themed stage.

Layla gave her hands another firm squeeze like someone would do for encouragement. Penelope returned the gesture hesitantly, just barely squeezing her pale hands.

A bittersweet smile stretched on the woman's lips, confusing the girl.

“Well it seems like I've gotta run! Nice to meet you babydoll!” She farewells, rushing out the words abruptly before swiveling around on her chunky boots.

It sounded more like a ‘See you later’ than a goodbye. The mysterious woman seemed almost sad near the end of their conversation.

What type of magnet did Penelope possess that attracted peculiar stranger's today?

Penelope blinks hard, “You too Ms. Layla…” The girl whispers out to the crisp air. No-one else was present in her direct vicinity to hear her confusion.

If Penelope Brown had a nickel for everytime she had an intense, random conversation with people who conveniently spoke English; she'd have two nickels.

Yes, technically she invited Shinichi to sit with her. And yes technically she'd bumped into Layla. And also yes, tons of people spoke multiple languages in the Asian country.

But it was just plain weird.

Two nickels certainly weren't a lot, but it for sure was weird, and its crazy that it happened twice. At least they both were nice acquaintances.

Penelope walked the remaining twenty-five minutes back to her hotel. The black American became more confused with the day as she took every step closer towards Shinjuku, and fell deeper into her own thoughts (that naively brushed off the fact both interactions could have led to her being kidnapped, talk about street skills).

But oh well, "February fourteenth is just an interesting, weird, socially active day," she figured internally with a perplexed huff.

Why did I meet you both on the same day?

It's like Mrs. Hachiko's Demon Lord was laughing down on me as he banished me to a life of suffering. A life that forced me to open my eyes at such an early age, and experience some of the most heart wrenching emotion I've ever gone though to this day.

Or maybe I was just fourteen. Maybe intense emotions were just apart of growing up.

I still wouldn't trade meeting you Shinichi, or any of our friends, now family, for the entire universe. Even knowing how miserably fucked up this one is.

I think we all learned alot from eachother. I know I learned what it meant to love with you.

On that day, when I met you both, maybe that was the Demon Lord's way of saving that love and hate are two sides of the same coin. You both are just that to me, as much as it pains me to say.

You're both like precious nickels in my pocket.

Now its like im throwing you both away into a well, and wishing for something to come out of the price I paid.

Thats cheesy of me to say, I think you'd like it so ill leave it in. You are always so poetic, afterall.

I know somewhere inside your heart, you learned how to feel, you learned how to embrace emotions.

I love you,

Penelope.

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