Origami Around
Product Placement
blake kathryn
official daine visual archive
No title available
Claire Keane
No title available
𓃗
if i look back, i am lost
untitled
YOU ARE THE REASON
izzy's playlists!
No title available
Andulka
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
★
we're not kids anymore.
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
bliss lane
No title available
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from France
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from Türkiye
seen from Brazil
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
@loveforsale-1
♡ ⋆ 𝒍𝑜𝑣𝑒𝒇𝑜𝑟𝒔𝑎𝑙𝑒 : 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘀𝗳𝗺. 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗎𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗉! 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗶𝗺𝗼.
FEATURING...
AYUMI KOBAYASHI. 28. she/her. model at spire models. BEAU AHN. 30. he/him. manager at atlas artist agency. SHILOH LI. 28. he/him. influencer.
open to anyone (anywhere suitable at the locals' week event at the santa monica pier).
"i just think you're, you know... okay, you know you're a very beautiful girl. you don't need me to tell you that. but that's not why i like you. i mean, you're just..." robin sighs as he looks down, carrying a bouquet of flowers. "i like talking to you, and i feel a connection, honestly. i feel like this could really be something... maybe, but also, we can take things super slow..."
his little soliloquy is interrupted by a text from the young woman that's been occupying his thoughts. sorry, she's written. i don't think i can make it to locals' week there. btw, you're sweet, but tbh i realized i just can't do long-distance. los angeles is just sooo far from me. amping ♡ and have a fun week! robin's face falls, and even moreso when he realizes he's been blabbering in the presence of someone else. "um, how much of that did you hear?" he asks sheepishly, feeling an ungodly mix of heartbreak and embarrassment. "i was just... i was, ummm, practicing lines... for an audition." as discreetly as he can (not that discreetly), he tosses the bouquet to the side.
yikes. yiiiikes. sometimes, beau wished he didn’t have ears—that way, he wouldn’t have to be an unwilling witness to moments like this. second-hand embarrassment was a powerful thing, and right now, it was making him cringe. he considered pretending he hadn’t heard anything. just turning on his heel and walking away like none of this ever happened. but before he could make his escape, robin kept talking, stumbling over his words. beau’s gaze drifted downward, following the path of the bouquet as robin not-so-subtly chucked it to the side. "for an audition? those lines are kinda shit. who wrote them?"
santa monica pier !!
she’s a little bummed to be working while everyone else at the pier seemed to be having a lot of fun. rosie’s been looking forward to locals’ week for a solid month, and being told to cover the first day was just brutal ; still, she tells herself, she could afford to dedicate a few days to work and just catch up on the festivities later. her grip tightens around her notebook and pen, just a little, as she approaches someone at random ( the better to ignore the urge to gawk at every stall ) . “ excuse me, hi !! i’m doing a piece on locals’ week. would you mind if i asked you a few questions ?? ”
shiloh always looked forward to locals' week. it was one of his favourite times of the year, mostly because it was a goldmine for content. the crowds, the performers, the delicious food? it all gave him so much to work with for his vlogs and tiktok videos. but filming all day wasn't realistic. eventually, he packed his gear away, tucked his camera safely in his bag, and let himself just enjoy the day. he stopped by one of his favourite stalls and grabbed a couple of samosas, before wandering over to dream bubble for that limited edition boba they only ever made during locals' week. he was halfway down the pier now, lazily sipping his drink, which was soooo damn good he barely noticed the person approaching him until they were right in front of him. "oh..." shiloh muttered, pausing mid-step. he didn't really feel like talking. and before he could think too hard about it, he said: "i don't speak english." in straight, perfect english.
🧍🏻♂️ ... a pause. "one? why?"
“...vibes? duh.”
starter for beau ( @loveforsale ! ) location: emery's house
the house was a disaster. a beautiful, chaotic masterpiece of bad decisions and good times. empty takeout containers stacked like a sad, greasy ienga tower on the coffee table, mismatched socks littered the floor like some kind of modern art installation, and the smell of last night’s questionable choices still clung to the air.
emery lay sprawled across the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes as if shielding himself from the consequences of whatever beau had convinced him to do. a faint groan escaped him. “why did i wake up with a traffic cone in my bed...?”
beau woke up on the floor, his back throbbing in protest against the unforgiving hardwood. everything ached. his neck was stiff, his limbs felt heavy, like he’d spent the night wrestling a bear instead of... whatever the hell last night had been. eyes still half-shut, he reached blindly toward the coffee table, fingers groping around for his phone. his hand brushed against something, and before he could process what it was, the tower of takeout containers tipped. greasy cartons and crumpled napkins tumbled down, landing squarely on his chest and face. “fuck, fuckkkking hell,” he hissed pitifully, dragging a hand down his face. his skull throbbed in response, like someone was hammering nails into the inside of his head. “fuck. stop talking. my head hurts. i want to die.”
daniel wasn’t entirely awake, and safe to say, he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing at tim and jay’s at FIVE o’clock in the morning. a hummed tune escaped from his mouth every time shiloh spoke ... and there was a high probability that he wasn’t paying attention to whatever he was saying — in one ear and out the other. he nodded, taking a bite of his food. “so that’s why i’m here?”
maybe this was meant to happen. though that could be the delirium making its presence known, because who the fuck does this and why was it so normal for shiloh? daniel had a difficult time believing it. huh. “you don’t drink alcohol anymore?” weird but okay. he remembered shiloh walking into dream bubble with a different person, and it happened often. no, he wasn’t imagining it. “well,” he takes out his wallet and takes out a twenty dollar bill. yeah, he still used cash, so what. “here’s this to cover my food,” he leaves it on the table for shiloh, “because i’m going home.”
shiloh stared down at the twenty-dollar bill like it had personally offended him. seriously? what was it about people being so grumpy in the morning? daniel had barely said two words before deciding he was done for the day… and for what? because shiloh had the audacity to mention his sober streak? maybe that wasn’t the flex he’d thought it was. damn it. he rubbed the back of his neck, mentally backtracking. maybe he’d come off too smug—or worse, boring. even worse, unlikable. “seriously? you're going home?" he resisted the urge to scoff outright, settling instead for pressing his palm against the bill and sliding it back across the table. “i'm not accepting that,” he said, voice firm. “and why would you even leave? i haven't finished my waffles yet! and it's not like you have anywhere else to be, right? come on,” he added, cutting into his waffles like the conversation was over, “at least let me get you a coffee or something. you look like you need it.”
"oooh, get you, mr. sober" jaya replies, shoving another fry into her mouth. friday had arrived and jaya had spent her friday evening, dancing the night away with her friends. she'd stumbled into tim & jay's for some food, it was a bit of a tradition for her, a great way to finish off a fun night. when she was drunk, she was a bit of a chatterbox, which is how she'd got chatting with shiloh.
"wow, are you lookin' for an award or something?" she mumbles, picking up a napkin, "i could make you one" normally jaya didn't go crazy. but she'd been so busy with work recently, that she wanted to blow off some steam with some friends, she scrunched up the napkin, throwing it towards the other, "for you". jaya rolls her eyes at his words, eating another fry, "alright, i get it, you're perfect. stop rubbing it in...".
shiloh had always seen jaya at tim & jay’s and nowhere else—at least, that’s how it felt sometimes. she was only ever there when she was drunk, yapping away like she was trying to fill the whole room with her voice alone. it wasn’t always a bad thing. shiloh didn’t mind the noise and it was impressive how she never seemed to run out of things to say. he plucked the crumpled napkin off the counter, unfolding it carefully. the corner was already damp, soaked through with a little puddle of coffee he hadn’t noticed he’d spilled. he wiped at the mess. “you know,” he said, glancing at her between swipes, “you should try staying sober for a month or two. it'll change your life. your body’s a temple and you're destroying it. i just think it's concerning how we always seem to meet under the same circumstances… you, drunk, and me, conveniently sober enough to remember all the embarrassing shit you say.”
radiant !!
this was fine. straight people went to gay bars all the time. they talk about how fun it is, tell all their friends about it, too. just because she’s at radiant it doesn’t automatically mean she’s — no one will know. it’ll be okay. rosie has mostly calmed herself down by the end of her little pep talk, but the fear comes back full force when she turns around only to see a familiar face. “ oh !! hi, i was just — i’ve heard so much about this place, you know ?? i had no idea that, uh — that gay bars could be so fun. is that problematic to say ?? i mean i am straight, so i just . . . i don’t want to offend. ” that was . . . convincing enough, surely ??
over the years, beau had seen all sorts at radiant. he’d been a regular for long enough—concerningly long enough—to know the crowd well. there were the other regulars, faces he recognised even if he didn’t know all their names. some were always perched by the bar, others claimed their favourite spot on the dance floor. there were the newbies too, people who showed up a little wide-eyed but warmed up quickly. and then there were people like rosie. she kinda looked like she wasn’t sure if she should even be breathing the same air as everyone else. beau had seen that kind of stance before. and in his experience, they were either clueless straighties tagging along with friends or closeted fuckers who’d taken one step through the door and were now quietly spiralling. there was rarely any in-between. beau stared, letting his gaze drag down and back up again, trying to decide where she fit. “woooah,” he drawled, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “are you insinuating that normal bars are boring?” it's kinda true. odyssey was boring. fuck odyssey. “did you come here alone?”
starter for ayumi ( @loveforsale ! ) location: his uncle's repair shop
emery is elbow-deep in the guts of an old motorcycle, fingers smeared with grease, a half-empty coffee cup balanced precariously on the workbench beside him.
the bell on the front door jingles. he doesn’t look up right away—people don’t usually come here unless something’s broken, and most of the time, they expect a miracle on a budget.
with a sigh, he wipes his hands on a rag and finally glances at the newcomer who just so happened to be ayumi. “ let me guess, ” he drawls, taking them in with a quick, practiced look. “ phone won’t turn on, car’s making a ‘weird noise,’ or you dropped something expensive and now you’re hoping I can work miracles? ”
“yes, emery. i dropped my phone in water like an idiot.” ayumi said, visibly upset. she'd only had it a month, and it hadn’t been cheap. “can you fistfuck that motorcycle later and help me?”
open to anyone (location is flexible, but this starter takes place around march 13)
robin takes selfies on his phone camera, trying out a few different poses and expressions. smiling, "cool bad boy," peace sign, etc. when he realizes the other's presence, though, he freezes. "i'm sorry, i'm not..." he coughs, trying to maintain a chill expression despite the flushed color of his cheeks. "i'm not always this vain, i promise." in fact, most of the photos he took on his phone didn't include his own face. "today's just a bit special. it's my birthday..."
ayumi rolled her eyes fondly, crossing her arms. honestly. “oh, shush,” she said, “there’s nothing wrong with being a little vain. you should have more confidence—not just because it’s your birthday today.” she held out a hand, fingers wiggling expectantly. “come on, give me your phone. i take good pictures. you can even post them later, make your instagram feed look nice and everything.”
closed starter for @loveforsale
"okay, this might seem like a bizarre question, but... just based on vibes, how many friends do you think i have?"
“umm... like, one?”
TASK#1 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ SHILOH'S PLAYLIST!
sugar n' spice - denise julia ; agora hills - doja cat ; soft spot - keshi ; tip toe - hybs ; wildflower - yung kai [ more in playlist ! ]
TASK#1 ⠀ ⋆ ⠀ RILEY'S PLAYLIST!
cherry - jordan susanto ; what if we - emi choi ; autumn - ben&ben ; ogre battle - queen ; real love baby - father john misty [ more in playlist ! ]
📍 : tim & jay's 🕐 : 5 am
“oh—oh, no. i'm completely sober.” shiloh was well aware of the kind of people who usually found themselves at tim and jay’s at this hour: half-drunk regulars nursing the last dregs of their regret with cheap coffee. alcoholics, mostly. men with faces crumpled like discarded newspapers, women with smudged lipstick and last night’s mistakes still clinging to their skin. but shiloh? he tooootally was above all that. he hadn't touched alcohol in weeks, not since he started taking soul cycling classes and decided he actually liked waking up in the morning without feeling like his brain had been wrung out like a dishcloth. “i don't drink alcohol anymore—that shit's nasty,” he said, as if he hadn't spent years indulging in the same vices he now turned his nose up at. “i usually wake up at four in the morning,” he added, like a fucking badge of honour, “have breakfast at around five.”
open at bar volante
"god, i look so fit tonight, even after starting work at six a.m." she exclaimed to herself as she looked at herself in her front facing camera. running her fingers through her hair, ellinore sighed and put her phone face down on the table before leaning in closer to the other. "no rest for the wicked, right? and they most definitely need me there because not all bad pr is 'good', contrary to popular belief. people can be such... nuisances." that was her putting it politely. eyes averted towards the music set up which was currently not being used. "do you think they do open mics here? don't want to toot my own horn but i can carry a tune. don't get me wrong though, definitely not one for a career in it." although she didn't let it shoe all the time, words hurt ella and she couldn't subject herself to the constant scrutiny. she was fine to be in the background as long as she could be loud in her own way.
shiloh would beg to differ. any kind of pr was still good pr. ruin your reputation, and suddenly, you were the talk of the town—infamy was just another kind of fame, after all. people loved a train wreck just as much as they loved a redemption arc. sometimes, even more. he exhaled through his nose, glancing down at his phone screen as he adjusted his fringe, brushing it just so, then tilting his head slightly to check it from another angle. the lighting wasn’t doing him any favours—too dim, too warm—but it wasn’t anything a good filter couldn’t fix. the bar was packed. it was a bit toasty. he wished he hadn’t worn long sleeves. this wasn’t his scene. hell, he barely drank, and if it had been up to him, he’d be anywhere but here. but ellinore had given him that look—a kind of look that said she wasn’t asking, and somehow, he'd found himself tagging along. “don’t get too comfortable. i think there’s a band playing tonight,” he mused, “unless you wanna take over before they get here. show everyone what they’re missing.”
open at bar volante
"god, i look so fit tonight, even after starting work at six a.m." she exclaimed to herself as she looked at herself in her front facing camera. running her fingers through her hair, ellinore sighed and put her phone face down on the table before leaning in closer to the other. "no rest for the wicked, right? and they most definitely need me there because not all bad pr is 'good', contrary to popular belief. people can be such... nuisances." that was her putting it politely. eyes averted towards the music set up which was currently not being used. "do you think they do open mics here? don't want to toot my own horn but i can carry a tune. don't get me wrong though, definitely not one for a career in it." although she didn't let it shoe all the time, words hurt ella and she couldn't subject herself to the constant scrutiny. she was fine to be in the background as long as she could be loud in her own way.
ellinore really did look good, even after an ungodly six a.m. start... which was slightly concerning. there was a reason ayumi had invited her out tonight. work had its claws deep in ellinore’s schedule, and she deserved a break, if only for a few hours. just one night to unwind, let loose, and forget about whatever pr chaos she had been wrangling. “nuisances?” ayumi laughed, raising an eyebrow. “go on, tell me everything. who’s making your life hell?” she loooooved hearing gossip, even from people she had never met. maybe it was a guilty pleasure, or maybe it was just that LA had a funny way of making the world feel smaller. half the time, the names that popped up in ellinore’s stories were ones ayumi had heard before. she let her gaze drift toward the stage, where the setup remained untouched. no one had was there yet, leaving the speakers to do all the work in filling the space with sound. “there's one way to know—” she tilted her chin towards the the stage, “step up and sing. i'll record you.”
