#toyota museum

[fameone]

[frotyeight]

future toyota from the past

[bonguri]

20240113 Ensyu area 9 by Bong Grit Via Flickr: 豊田佐吉記念館の母屋。電話は64番だそうです。表札は我々一族の下で働かせてもらえる人にとっては恐れ多いレベルの高名な方の名前でした。 @Sakichi Toyoda Memorial Museum, Kosai city, Shizuoka pref.（静岡県湖西市 豊田佐吉記念館）

[japan-trip-by-aszke]

Ikaho Toy, Doll and Car Museum

[kodagiri-ny]

ペガサスホワイトの共演 #ジーライオンミュージアム #大阪市 #大阪府 #toyota #2000gt #toyota2000gt #canon #6dmark2 #canonphotography #カメラ好きな人と繋がりたい #supercar #vintagecar #carphotography #carlifestyle #車のある風景 #車のある景色 #博物館 #museum #carinstagram #cargram #classiccars #vintagecars #japaneseculture #世界の名車 #carphotographer #carphoto #トヨタ #トヨタ2000gt #akarengawedding #赤レンガ倉庫 (築港赤レンガ倉庫) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cna7SdfyFbI/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[elmonteca-blog]

Downtown Motels near Los Angeles CA

Our carefully designed Hotel Heritage El Monte Los Angeles is the right place for business travelers because of our low rates, our well-chosen location and our ample array of amenities. Because our property is sensibly furnished and carefully maintained, you're sure to get the comfort you need when you spend the night with us. Make us your pick of hotels in El Monte CA or your El Monte hotel near Los Angeles downtown and you can’t go wrong. We provide you value and convenience with a pleasant, friendly staff, so what more could you want? Depend on us – and go with a proven winner.

You’ll like it here. As the right El Monte motel near Mt. San Antonio College and a good pick of hotels near El Monte Historical Museum, we’re pleased to be the most pleasant of the local places and an accommodations choice that you can rely on. Among the things that add to our value for travelers with family include our free wifi and more. It makes real sense to reserve with us over other El Monte, California hotels and downtown hotels near Los Angeles for simple, comfortable and convenient accommodations. But we’re a busy place that many travelers already know about, so you often must reserve early if you want a room.

[frenchcurious]

Lancia Astura Series III Tipo 233C Bocca Cabriolet 1936 by Pinin Farina. Toyota Automobile Museum. - source Cars & Motorbikes Stars of the Golden era.

[albarrancabrera]

Albarran Cabrera   —–   Instagram

The Mouth of Krishna

Toyota Municipal Museum of Art

2014, #1029 Pigments, gampi paper and gold leaf.

[yuzukult]

crush 03 | jww & oc/reader

title: crush 03 / part of the attacca series pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader/oc (ft. seokmin) rating: 16+ (mentions of sex, but no act of sex) genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, racecar driver!au, mechanic!au wc: 7.4k summary: all he knows are fast rides, drag-strips, and speed ovals until he meets you, someone that’s got his heart racing instead of his car. warnings: explicit language, smoking, suggestive content (but nothing follows through), mentions of sex a/n: sorry i actually finished this weeks ago but forgot to post it.. embarrassinng frfr

This place looks… a bit shady.

The address Wonwoo sends you doesn’t show a brief description on Google Maps as it normally does, and it’s missing a preview picture of what the location is supposed to look like. When you pull up into the driveway, the asphalt fades into a dusted dirt road with cars of all ages, models, and manufacturers that line up against the fencing before you notice a building with an open garage on the opposite side.

That’s where you spot Wonwoo, crouched over in a white tank and torn up black jeans with a soiled rag over his shoulder. The driver’s window of an old Chevy is down, and Wonwoo has his forearms resting against the panel, casually conversing to the operator of the vehicle. He’s… got nice arms. But that’s besides the point.

He taps against the door. “Tell me when you need me to take another look at the ventilator. Should be workin’ this time around, but if not, Imma have to advise you to get ‘nother car.”

At first, you didn’t get to make out the facial features of who was inside. The reflection of the beaming sunlight hitting the front windshield made it arduous to identify the driver, but when she peeks her head out just barely, you could pinpoint the owner of those pearly white teeth anywhere. It’s the cute flag girl that Seokmin took home that one day.

“Why? When I could just keep coming back to you instead?” 

But in lieu of reacting decrepitly to those pretty lashes that brush against her cherry tinted cheekbones like Seokmin does, Wonwoo is a major contrast when he slaps the top of the car with a charming smile. “Sweet, but it’s better to see your mechanic less and not more. Head home now, and only call if something happens to your car.”

With a failed sigh and pout, she waves goodbye to Wonwoo who watches as her car takes off.

Although when his eyes lands on you and your shitty ass Toyota, a show stopping grin tugs on the corners of his mouth. Wonwoo gestures for you to come to where the flag girl was earlier, and part of you feels a bit… special from the way he looks at her then at you. He seems happier, excited, even. 

Why couldn’t Seokmin look at you in that way?

Hopping out of the car, you puff your cheeks. “When I said I’d let you take me on a date, I didn’t think it would be here at your shop.”

“I know girls like you,” he begins, crossing his arms before leaning against the doorframe of the garage. Raising a brow, you’re not sure where he’s going with that, but you remain silent to let him continue. “You probably get asked out often and have the most boring dates. What’s the last date you've been on?”

That required some thinking. Maybe it was that guy you met on Tinder and took you out for a candlelit steak dinner. Or even that one dude who took you to that art gallery.

You don’t respond though because Wonwoo seemed to have wanted to guess himself. 

“Steak? Dim lighting, candles, maybe? Museums? How about even a walk by the river or waterfront, letting the cool breeze hit your face? Bet he tried to get into your pants after, which was why you didn’t call him back.”

That last one got you. You’ve been on that one before too, and had the same scenario happen. “What are you getting at here?”

He leans over to open your door wider, and you step aside. Reaching to pull the tab that pops the hood of your trunk, it only confuses you more on what he’s going to do next. “Well, I wanna be memorable, not some guy you went out with. Imma teach you how to change a flat.”

“I don’t have a flat.”

“Make believe, doll,” he chuckles, slamming your door shut. He walks to the back of your, pushing the trunk up, and his eyes skim the contents of the back. That term of endearment from Wonwoo is a new one, and for some reason, if it came from someone else, you’d be disgusted. But from him? It’s… kind of alluring? “Why you got so much junk in here?”

You flinch, immediately rushing to his side when the memory of what’s in your car comes to mind. “Oh shit, I—”

“Emergency one night stand kit?” He quirks a brow, lifting up a little tote back with the words woven into the canvas fabric. “You don’t look like the type.”

“It was a gift!” you exclaim, heat rushing to your cheeks as you snatch it back from him. “The contents inside don't match what the writing insists the purpose is for, I promise. I don’t do one night stands.”

“I know.” Wonwoo watches you in amusement, adoration swirling in his pools of chocolates he calls eyes. “You're one of those hopeless romantics. It’s taking a lot for you to even come on this date with me.”

You roll your lips in response, avoiding his loving gaze as you shuffle the stuff to make way for the lid of the compartment at the bottom of trunk. “How would you know that?”

“Because I see the way you look at Dokyeom, and it’s kind of the way that I look at you.” You choke on your saliva. Were you really that open of a book? Surely, it was true, but you didn’t think you were that obvious.

Dokyeom. It’s weird how Seokmin is your supposed best friend and yet there was so much about him you didn’t know. There was something underlying that he was hiding, and you want to dig deeper. Who was Dokyeom as this version of himself that he never once shared before? 

You clear your throat, warmth rushing to your cheeks. Wonwoo is rather bold. “Um, so… are you gonna teach me how to change my tire or what?”

Wonwoo knows he caught you in that moment, but he doesn’t pry for more. “Aight, well roll up your sleeves and let’s get our hands dirty, love.”

He shows you the compartment to find the spare and tools, the latch that you’ve always looked over is the one he pulls to expose another layer of your car. Was that what it was for? You sort of just threw your shit on top of it and hoped for the best. 

“Here, you’ll find your spare tire. I highly recommend that you don’t just ride it forever just cause you got it on. It’s a spare, it’s temporary. Don’t ever use it for long, it’s not meant for it.”

There’s a long, metal tool he brings out that resembles a cross. “This is a wrench,” then he grabs an unfamiliar mechanism in the shape of a diamond with a flat top, “the jack,” and finally, he points to the tire that peeks out just barely. “Lastly, the tire. Kinda heavy, but I can help you—”

“I got it,” you state daringly, shoving him to the side. 

He chuckles at your boldness with that look of veneration on his face like you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. “Okay, well, grab that—” Wonwoo gestures at the tire, watching carefully to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, “and just… lay it on the ground. And we’re gonna put the jack under the car.”

Oddly enough, Seokmin never really wanted to teach you how to change a tire. You’ve mentioned it to him once before—you found yourself on the side of the road on a highway, phone up to your ear as you frantically called your best friend to be your knight in shining armor. 

And when he arrived twenty minutes after your cry for help, he slammed the car door behind him with that smug look on his face as he said, “You rang?” 

But that was when he was more reliable.

These days, your calls are missed and you rarely see him as often as you used to. He’s so caught up in his new life, his career, and all the girls that you’ve only become a sliver of importance to him.

Somehow, you end up with a smear mark on your cheek from moving all the equipment around. Wonwoo thinks you’re cute like this; admittingly, you were just a girl he found attractive with an amusing attitude. But that night. That night the two of you exchanged numbers—it was the first time he ever met someone that tugged on his heartstrings in this way. How’d he get looped into talking to a girl over text for hours?

“Like this?” You query, looking up at him from below. The tire lock is fastened onto the lug nut of your rims with a socket wrench in your hand. “So, I just…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo leans over, hand on yours as he shoves the head of the tire iron to fasten against the lock. “Then you just…” he drifts off, and instead of pushing you aside to do it himself as Seokmin would’ve, he guides you with his movements. Thrusting his weight and yours against the wrench, he turns it multiple times before the first one releases and drops onto the floor with a clank. “The first one is always hard because it’s anti-theft, but the other ones are a bit easier. If you can’t get it out, just… put your hands on the hood of the car and jump on it. Wanna finish it off?”

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

Getting the lug nuts off was easier than you thought (were they on tight enough to begin with?) The tire tilts over to you, and you’re quick to catch it and set it aside. Wonwoo rolls the spare in your direction, watching as you puff your cheeks with a layer of sweat on your skin. You don’t seem bothered, despite the droplets that stream down the side of your neck, and he sort of expected you to confront him about this being a first date. Who takes a girl to learn how to change a flat for a first date?

Not many guys, that’s for sure.

With Wonwoo, he doesn’t act like a savior. When you’re struggling with pulling the tire off, he doesn’t come in and take over—he asks if you’d want his help, and when you’d reply with ‘no,’ he stays put. 

“Okay, next, you should put the spare where you took off the flat. Then secure it with the nuts, and put the car down with the jack. You should be good to go after you use the wrench to tighten it some more.”

“Hold this for me,” you drop the wrench in his palms and he’s fast in abiding. Aligning the spare tire to the bolts, you mount them by tightening the lug nuts into their initial spots by hand. Finally, stepping back, you lower the vehicle with the jack as he advises, snatching the tool back as he snickers at how focused you’ve become. 

You use all your strength—practically the entirety of your weight impeling into the wrench to secure the bolts in place. With a puff of exhausted air, you shove it back into Wonwoo’s hold. “Okay, done. Check it.”

He eyes you impishly, making his way to the spare that you proudly installed yourself, casually popping the head of the wrench to fit the lugs without much difficulty. Wonwoo does it with ease; everything happens so fluidly, from the way he checks the tightening of the lugs to the kick of the tire to see if it would slip out in any way. Your breath gets caught in your throat, a bit anxious of the results, but when he turns to you with a soft smile, your chest releases the tension.

“Wow, impressive for the first try. You sure you’ve never changed a flat before?”

“Promise,” you cheekily grin back. He’s sort of… cute. He reminds you of those flakey croissant pastries, expectant on the outside that the dish you pair with a cup of coffee would be just buttery. But taking in a bite, the strawberry jam spews from the insides, the fruit preserves leaving a candied taste on the tip of your tongue.

This was just part of the date, you soon learn, because after Wonwoo helps you wash your hands in the sink in his garage, he leads you behind the building where a field of green lies. 

His auto shop was located on the borderlines of the city and the suburbs—just a couple blocks over, if you took a step to the left, you would’ve been on the outskirts of the city lines but one move to the right, you’ll find yourself in the heart of the crowd of skyscrapers. Farther back of the property, the dusty road fades into a green field (well, sorta. It’s got patches, definitely needs some TLC, but you digress), and although it’s not the prettiest with scattered pieces of car junk across the lawn, his setup that he has displayed makes it… cute. He’s got this red and white checkered blanket that lays on the grass, boxes of screws on either corners and a hammer thrown at the other. 

You glance over at Wonwoo.

He’s quick to shove it off the blanket, dropping the wicker basket where the hammer once was. 

“Were you premeditating a murder?”

“If the night doesn’t go well, maybe,” he jokes. “I’m kidding, I had a feeling it was gonna get windy and I didn’t want the two of us spending half the day trying to get the thing to stay still. I did it myself before you came.”

He’s kinda cute.

“I couldn’t dress as nicely, I realized I don’t think I own any pairs of pants without a grease stain on it,” Wonwoo admits apologetically, plopping down on the blanket in his raw hemmed black jeans and the short sleeve button up that he doesn’t bother actually buttoning up. Part of you is tempted to ask him if he bought those jeans like that or if he cut it himself (you think it’s the latter). 

Seokmin always had a thing about his appearance. The cleaner and slicker you seem, the more name brands that decorate your clothing, and the type of vehicle you drive says a lot about you. 

But to Wonwoo, it’s clear that those things don’t matter. 

He’s not rich in terms of the money stashed in his pockets or the digits in his bank account, but his wealth resides within his personality and knowledge. As you slice off a piece of cheese to pair with your cracker and prosciutto off a charcuterie board he attempted to make (you give him props for this as he humbly mentions he gives all the credit to those moms on forum websites posting their recipes), you learn more as to why Wonwoo never went to college—both willingly and unwillingly. And yet, he harbors so much wisdom in terms of cars and racing, earning all your respect that he chose a non-traditional route and remains successful.

You recall that night over the phone how he wished he could go to college, but he doesn’t have the means to. Wonwoo dropped out of high school during his senior year, just months before graduating, and although he didn’t fully explain why, the admiration in your gaze when he mentions he’d gotten his GED several months ago is evident. 

Wonwoo isn’t what you’re used to; growing up, it was established that you were to meet a man with a bachelor’s degree, and the bonus is if he obtains a master’s. When your hands are stained, whether it be grease from the stove, oil from a car, flour from dough, or paint off a canvas, it’s recognized as a labor intensive job and the more physical work you do, the less intelligent you are.

This was not the case. 

Admittingly, he doesn’t know anything about kinematics or conservation of energy, but he knows what to do when your carburetor is failing or if your water pump leaks. Analyzing the works of Shakespeare or reading a novel without dozing off wasn’t quite his forte, but he’s better in other fields and there’s so much admiration for that. “I like jobs that give back to society,” he said that night, and it gifts you the perspective that there is more to the world beyond being employed at a corporate company. Wonwoo sets a different standard for you, but even on a sweet date like this where he’s pouring a glass of moscato for you as you watch the sun setting in the horizon… you can’t help but let your thoughts flood with Seokmin once again. 

When Wonwoo’s eyes curl into moon crescents with a laugh so buttery and deep, you discern a lot more clearly how much Seokmin has a hold on you. A great guy sits before you and you can’t get your head unwrapped from Lee Seokmin.

“When’d you get into racing?” You ask, deciding that maybe if you get to know him better, you’d stop thinking about the guy who’d rather be at a rooftop bar downtown with a girl he just met fifteen minutes ago. “I’ve never seen you at any of the tournaments.”

“Mmm,” he hums, brushing his hands off each other from the crumbs. “About a month before that cup. One of the sponsors of the stadium saw me racin’ on the streets a couple months ago. Once he found my name, he got me a competitor’s license and forced me on the track. Said somethin’ like he’d help me pay for everything, including two months of mortgage on my shop.” Wonwoo shrugs, reaching over to grab another cracker from the bag. “Two months is a lot. Plus, if he’s paying for everything else and all I needed was a crew, not a big deal. It’s really just a money game.”

You purse your lips. “Any reason for him to want you to race?”

“It’s probably gettin’ boring watching Dokyeom win all the time.”

Oh. You never really thought of it like that. “But he won the circuit,” you clarify. “I don’t get it.”

He grabs a handful of the crackers and lays it across the wooden board for you, adjusting himself on the picnic blanket as he tilts his head to the side. “Yea, but I also came in second with milliseconds on the clock. Not to mention that this is the first of the series–I think they just want somethin’ new to the competition ‘cause there hasn’t been any fresh meat lately. Or, if there are any, they ‘un really last.”

You quirk a brow. “You’re not fresh meat–you raced on the streets.”

Wonwoo winks playfully. “You know that, but they don’t.”

There’s a lot to unpack–the recruiting of Wonwoo into an industry that he didn’t really see himself in, only to be lured to race with a bribe because it was getting boring to watch Seokmin win so frequently? You have a never ending list of questions, ones that Wonwoo couldn’t necessarily answer, but one you were suspicious enough to keep digging. But when Wonwoo lifts the honey dipper made of turned wood to collect the honey from the jar and onto your chunk of cheese, he says one last thing that erases all your curiosity.

“Dokyeom almost got a monopoly on stock car racing. No new consistent racers in the past two years entering this category, instead they’re headin’ off to Formula 1 or drag. They’re losing all potential new money ‘cause there’s nobody that can match his potential. Thinkin’ that the guy just wanted me there to get the ball rollin, let people know that it’s not impossible to beat the Lee Seokmin.”

Popping the piece of parmesan into your mouth, you roll your lips. “Well, you didn’t beat him either,” you tease, and he rolls his eyes with a smile tugging on the edges of his lips. He’s got the same sense of humor as you do, and he makes it a little hard not to get enticed by his charms. “So what of it?”

“I didn’t have to beat him, I just had to get close enough,” he grins. “Why? Are you not impressed that I didn’t beat him?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Mm,” he nods slowly while feigning a frown. “Damn. Should’ve told me earlier, maybe I would’ve actually tried beating him then.”

How did this conversation end up looping right back into Seokmin when you asked to distract yourself from him?

“Do… Do you even like racing, Wonwoo?”

“Honestly?” he glances over at you before looking back at the sunset. The hues of warmth that radiate the ordinary star is a pretty sight as it shines on his face, and it’s evident why he’s enamored by many. “No. I like cars, and I love the speed, but I prefer being under the hood than behind the wheel. Knowing how the gears turn and what’s the reason for the black smoke and why your car stutters is more appealing to me than burning rubber on asphalt.”

“Hm,” you hum, remaining silent to bask in the fresh air. You say it often, but Wonwoo is…different. He indulges in the present moments in life; he doesn’t dwell on the past, in fact, he embraces it and learns from it. The type of person that travels with a loose agenda, a couple locations and hot spots in mind to touch, but never abiding by what’s written as if it’s set in stone. 

He’s carefree. Flowing like linens hanging dry on the clothesline on a warm, breezy day.

“And what about you?” he asks, those chocolate swirling orbs just full of adoration and interest. Wonwoo looks at you in a way that you could only dream for Seokmin to do the same, but he’s slowly easing you into the idea of it being someone else. “Do you like cars? Racing?”

“Have you seen my car?” you laugh, quirking a brow. “To me, a car is just something that takes you from point A to point B. Otherwise, it means nothing to me.”

“Funny, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Tilting your head to the side, it’s your turn to gaze at him with intrigue. 

“You just… see cars differently than I do,” he says with a soft smile. “It’s not bad, but it holds so many meanings for me, left core memories, and for you, you blatantly say that it’s a means of transportation.”

You feel bad for saying it like that but… it is just a car.

“It may seem like just a car,” he begins, and you think for a second that he reads your mind. “But every meaningful moment in my life had a car involved in it.”

Maybe Wonwoo has a point—it’s like how some people just view a croissant as just a flaky pastry you could have with coffee in the mornings or tea in the afternoons. But others, the aroma of freshly baked croissants imbues the kitchen, creating a wave of nostalgia sweeping over them. The residual butter left on their fingertips when they tear into the crisp, crescent shaped pastry is a sign that it’s been made with the utmost love, just as their elder relatives baked it.

“Do you have something like that?” It’s… a good question. Truthfully, you’ve never thought about that before, and maybe it’s from the way you live your life, but you’ve hardly stopped and just immersed yourself within a moment. “I… I don’t think I do. I’ve been so caught up in preparing for what’s next that it’s never crossed my mind.”

“Well,” he begins, taking a bite from a cracker. “Let that be something you figure out before the next time we meet.”

You quirk a brow in amusement. “You’re already thinking about another date?”

“Aren’t you?” He mimics your expression. “I thought you’re always thinking one step again. Unless, you don’t view me in that way and decide that there wouldn’t be a next time?”

There is definitely a next time. 

Actually, there ends up being a lot of “next times.”

In fact, meeting with Wonwoo has become a routine. 

There’s excitement that runs through your veins, similar to the adrenaline rush that Seokmin raves on about when he races, except this is simply because of your eagerness to see Wonwoo after work. Once the clock strikes five, your bag is already slung over your shoulder with the door shut behind you.

Some nights, you find yourself drowning in projects with deadlines, stuck in the four walls of your office that feel like they’re closing in. It’s suffocating—spending more than the required eight hours in what feels like an enclosed space, wishing that you could be anywhere else but there.

That is, until you and Wonwoo grew closer.

You never thought of yourself as someone who would find comfort in the sound of tools clanging against each other or on the concrete ground. Wonwoo likes to blast a mixtape he made back in high school—which basically was just a list of songs that you’d know the lyrics to because you used to have it on full volume with your whole emo getup back in your rebellious and angsty teenage years.

When you started to spend more time in his shop, he made a note to build a make-shift desk for you–yes, it was basically a tool cart with a long piece of a wood plank, but with the wheels locked, a swivel chair he used to run reports at his shitty computer (that was also on another tool cart) and a lamp he bought from Walmart (it has a pink base, he thought you’d like that), it felt welcoming. After a long day at the office with work still not done, this change of scenery is nice, especially since Wonwoo makes it crystal clear that he wants your company.

Some days are more uneventful than others, but nonetheless, they’re nice. You liked the calmness–there was something soothing about that roar of the engine when Wonwoo would lean into the open window to turn the key in the ignition for a test run.

Today, though, falls a bit outside of that placid routine.

You drop by, mostly because you’re bored and you don’t want to be alone in your apartment, plus it’s almost guaranteed that Wonwoo would be at the car shop (well, also because his place is literally… connected to it. You opened the wrong door trying to find the bathroom once, only to see this huge backroom that looked like a loft. Wonwoo loves work so much that he lives in it).

As you enter the garage, eyes glued to the screen of your phone, your car keys dangle from your fingers as you’re tapping away. “Do you wanna order dinner? I heard there’s this Chinese place a couple blocks down–they deliver so we can just call–”

“Ehem,” Wonwoo clears his throat, arms crossed over his chest. Attention now on him, that’s when you notice the other four men in the shop, casually sitting on the couch, leaning on a car, and standing beside Wonwoo. “Um, so these are my friends.”

Friends. Wonwoo introduces you to them; Mingyu, Minghao, Seungcheol and Vernon are their names, and from what you recall, they seem to have been the same guys that were on his crew back at the track. They’re all car guys, you learn, knowing Wonwoo from way back and it makes you wonder if they knew Seokmin–or well, Dokyeom–at the time but you don’t probe for more. If Seokmin wants to remain mysterious, then he can stay that way.

“So,” Mingyu, who is definitely over 6-feet tall, begins cheekily, pushing himself off the car. “Are you the reason why Wonwoo won’t come out with us to drink? We’ve been asking him for the past month to come out and he keeps giving us bullshit excuses.”

You blink blankly. Was… Wonwoo turning them down to see you?

“I’m sorry,” you turn to stare at Wonwoo for a brief moment before turning back to Mingyu. “Was… Was he doing that? I didn’t even know.”

“He must like you,” Seungcheol chimes in, snickering as Wonwoo smacks Seungcheol’s chest with the back of his hand. “What! I’m just sayin’. You never reject us. Except for that one time your mom came into town, but other than that, you’re basically always comin’ with us. Did a surprise drop by… lo’ and behold. Jeon here's got a girlie.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes as he twists around to snatch a carton of cigarettes off the shelf of his supplies. “You came for the cigs, bro. Stop saying shit. You’re gon’ scare her.”

“Ohhhh,” Minghao chimes in teasingly. “So you care about what she thinks of you–thinks of us. That’s cute,” he hops up from the couch before coming over to you. “If Jeon gives you a hard time…” with a wink, he then gestures to the other boys to follow. “Just lemme know. Or any of them. We’ll be back around, so we’ll catch you later. Nice to meet you, cutie.”

When they leave, you’re left alone with Wonwoo once again.

“Am I holding you back?”

Wonwoo stares at you blankly with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the red tool cart roller. “Holding me back from what?”

You shrug, putting down your phone onto the make-shift coffee table (it’s just a creeper parked on a cardboard box). “I don’t know. They made it seem that way—I mean, we’re not really dating, so I feel bad if I’m… holding you back from anything. You should see your friends—whether or not we are together.”

“I can make that decision for myself,” Wonwoo shoots back, pushing himself up as he makes his way to the car in the garage. “They’ll see me around, not a big deal. And yeah, I’m down for Chinese. You tryna get me the vegetable lo mein?”

You eye him carefully. The thing with Wonwoo versus Seokmin is that he says it straight up—no hesitation, no crazy maze where you need to probe for clues to reach the end, and he doesn’t expect you to figure him out in a heartbeat. Wonwoo inspects your actions, and if you give it away that you don’t understand, he’s transparent with how he answers.

Wonwoo doesn’t feel like the game of cat and mouse.

“Do you want to share sweet and sour chicken and maybe some wings?”

“Of course. And make sure they have Coca Cola—not Pepsi.”

When you’re both sitting on his secondhand couch of the garage, utilizing one of the ULINE tool cabinets as a more sturdy table, there’s boxes of Chinese food that’s sprinkled all across. His carton of lo mein is now empty, remnants of the grease left on the sides with bits of bean sprouts too small to grab with his chopsticks and the bones of the chicken wings are left on those crappy napkins that you’d find in fast food joints and coffee shops, saturated in the oils and probably leaving marks on the cart. Wonwoo eats fast but he always stays seated until you finish your meal despite being done his.

He used to keep his garage cold, the overhead rolling door made of metal and not including much insulation from the weather outside, but ever since you’ve kept him company more frequently, he’s installed some ceiling mounted unit heater to keep the area warm. The humming of the machine is what breaks the silence between the two of you, but Wonwoo doesn’t fail to bring it up, nonetheless.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brows furrowed in confusion. “You usually are babbling about your day right about now. Didn’t you and Sunny go shopping yesterday? She didn’t spill any gossip?”

You roll your lips. Are you normally that talkative around him? And if so, are you really that comfortable?

“Um, yeah, we did,” you begin, placing down your carton of rice. “And sorta. Not really. Mostly complained about work.”

He makes a sound by sucking in his teeth before sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees. “Alright, what’s up? Tell me.”

Normally, you’d just… tell the other person to let it go. Even with Seokmin, when he pries, you’re quick on your feet to tell him to ‘not worry about it’ and that ‘this unreasonable feeling will pass eventually.’

But Wonwoo is great at breaking barriers that you never thought you’d do.

Placing down your chopsticks, you let out a sigh along with the drop of your shoulders. “Okay, okay. I just feel bad. We’re not official—and that’s entirely on me, and I really do enjoy spending time with you—whatever this may be—but I also don’t want to be the one to hold you back on things like going out with your friends, meeting other girls, or just… I don’t know. Seeing those guys just made me think of that. I know that you might like me and—”

“Mm, hush.”

You blink blankly.

“Listen,” Wonwoo begins, hands together stiffly in semblance to this situation. “That’s on me too, right? I don’t think you’re leading me on, in fact, I think you’re establishing boundaries—like you are now. I went on a date with you, and it didn’t work. So be it. But—let’s make this clear, we are friends. I’m good with you coming over here whenever you want. And yea, I do like you. You gimme a lot of reasons to, but that don’t mean we can’t be friends. And if it makes you feel any better, I do hang with ‘em, they’re just bein’ dramatic because I spend my weekdays with you the most.”

“Oh,” you reply doltishly. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“Well, start,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Look, I know that you and Seokmin have these unspoken feelings and I’d rather you resolve them if you decide to take anything further. I’m cool with just chillin’ as friends, and we’re not doing anything wrong by it. I just may be a lil’ sweeter for you is all, only cause I got a crush. But my feelings aren’t hurt by it.”

This is… different.

Although you constantly say that Seokmin and Wonwoo are opposites (well, duh, they’re not the same person), it’s almost become repetitive and annoying how frequent you come to these “realizations.” Wonwoo has evidently seen a lot in his life, endured a lot, and due to that, he’s… emotionally mature. 

As for Seokmin—well, need you say more?

Somehow, the end of the evening isn’t awkward. He makes you laugh with a story about how a client came over, exclaiming on the top of their lungs how the backseat wouldn’t prop itself up, only for Wonwoo to find the seat belt covering the opening that holds it up. Although it was very tempting to smack a $300 invoice to his customer, he chose the better route of just telling them upfront what the issue was.

Although he’s understanding, prioritizing the friendship he’s created with you, he doesn’t make it hard to consider him as more than a friend.

“Well, you look giddy.”

“Hmm?” You respond dumbly, looking up from your phone full of texts. Wonwoo ended up feeling bad that his friends thought he’d been neglecting them, so he agreed to go to a bar tonight with them and maybe hit a club afterwards–but that doesn’t stop him from constantly messaging you. “Me? Or Sunny?”

P flicks your hand. “You, you idiot.”

“Oh.”

Sunny snorts in amusement, placing another strip of meat onto the grill. It sizzles from the impact of heat and the fat content of the beef, steam filling the air for a brief second before the ventilator sucks it up. “You didn’t tell us about that date with Wonwoo. You dodged all the texts in our group chat.”

You shrug, grabbing the spare tongs to help Sunny add more meat onto the grate. “Um, because it’s kind of weird.”

P raises a brow. “And how is it weird? Was he strange?”

Sunny’s attention is off of cooking now, diverting toward you. “OMG. Did we make you go on a date with a weirdo?”

You glance over at the two. “Wait-what?” Pretending to resume to the grill, you poke a couple of the raw pieces that lay across with another set of tongs. “No, no. He… He’s honestly great. I haven’t felt that connection with someone in a while–he taught me how to install a spare tire–”

P blinks blankly. “He taught you how to change your spare? What kind of date is that?”

And for a moment, a wash of judgment appears across Sunny’s face but it softens when she finally realizes. “... Because you told him that Seokmin promised to come and “save the day,” didn’t you? Then Wonwoo probably thought for a first date idea… teaching you how to change a spare…”

Then it clicks for P; her shoulders loosen and fall when she’s aware of the meaning behind the date. “He… didn’t want you to depend on Seokmin anymore.”

Sunny frowns, flipping over the meat on the grill. “If that’s the reason… Why’s that weird? Sounds sweet. If anything, I kinda give him props for that. Did he at least take you out to dinner?”

You chew on your bottom lip. “Well, he made a whole picnic basket.”

Both Sunny and P glare at you. “And what’s wrong with that?”

“He’s… not Seokmin.”

Gross. It sounds pathetic leaving from your mouth.

The looks that Sunny and P give you are full of pity. How could you be so weak for a guy that doesn’t even respect you enough to hide when he has flings? Someone who claims that they’re yours, but they spent most of their time pursuing anyone but you. It’s a constant recurring thought, and the reminders are always smacking you in the face and yet, you’re here, sitting in front of your two best friends after going on a date with someone who could potentially give you the world and more yet Seokmin still remains on your mind.

“Listen,” P begins, placing down her chopsticks by the side of her plate. Sunny clears off the grill and lowers the fire, mimicking P’s actions with her tongs. “Sunny and I talked about this, and we realized that yes, although we really don’t support this unrequited love between you and Seokmin, it’s still your life and your choices to make. We want you to know that we’re by your side, and behind you through it all, even if you end up with Seokmin, but we’ll say this one last time.”

“We think you should move on, love.” 

Your phone lights up beside you, Wonwoo’s name on display with the preview of his text. He asks if you like mint chocolate, a debate that he and his friends have had since God knows when, and it may determine if he wants to keep chasing you. When you unlock the phone, Seokmin’s chat is pinned to the top with your message being the most recent and sent two days ago. He just… disregarded the picture you shared of the two of you in college, his arm over your shoulders with smiles stretched across your faces.

“It’s… It’s hard,” you admit, and this time, it feels like the weight on your chest releases. “I think… I’d already had this idea that he and I would end up together engraved in my brain that I can’t seem to let go.”

“Well, how about this? You at least keep giving Wonwoo a shot if he does make you happy or if you’re even remotely interested. He seems sweet, and he also seems to know where you stand with Seokmin, which makes it easier to not have to explain to him the situation.”

You roll your lips. “I–Okay.”

Just then, your screen lights up again. Speaking of the Devil.

Wonwoo [11:54PM]: You can hold off on that political question for later. Since you’re still awake… my other friends wanna meet you. Wanna come out and grab a bite w us?

Quickly, you show your phone to the girls.

“Fuck yeah, tell them to come here,” P nearly shouts, and you hush her. “Forreal, give Wonwoo the address. We’ll get more chairs–switch tables if we gotta. I’m tryna see him in person.”

Sunny starts touching up on her makeup in her compatible mirror. “Get them to come! It shouldn’t be too far from where they are, right?”

It wasn’t.

In fact, Wonwoo and his friends were a couple blocks down–when you sent him the text of where you and your friends are, he eagerly sent a screenshot of Google Maps to show how close he was. 

When they walk into the BBQ joint, it’s very hard to miss them. For one, you spot familiar faces—Mingyu, Minghao, Seungcheol and Vernon from the shop, followed by three other guys you never met personally before, but you remember them from Wonwoo’s pit before the tournament. It makes you wonder—did he just hire all his friends to be his pit crew members? And if he did, that’s… impressive. You don’t think you could name any of Seokmin’s friends that would spend their Saturday rushing to change his tires—not to mention that they probably aren’t even trained to do it.

Then, you spot Wonwoo. He pushes through the group, shuffling to see where you are, and when your eyes meet, his smile doesn’t fail to stretch across from ear to ear. 

“Hey,” he says breathily, probably from all the shoving. “It’s… Good to see you. Kinda thought you were avoiding me after the mint chocolate question. It can be a touchy subject for some people.”

You let out a laugh; it’s so genuine and warm when it releases from your chest that it causes both P and Sunny to raise a brow at you before glancing at each other.

You’re different around him.

It’s so clear to both your best friends why Wonwoo is the choice you should make, and you’re displaying it right now. The comfortable body language, the laugh, and how you introduce them to him without any nerves. He’s so sweet when he offers to cook (only for one of his other friends to snatch the tongs from him with a hiss to take over, it’s still the thought and attempt that counts).

Wonwoo takes the seat next to you. Of course he does, he likes you, but there’s something inside of you that has trouble with swallowing that information. And truthfully? It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy his company or want to reject his feelings—if anything, you’ve caught yourself imagining the what-ifs. 

Then, Seokmin’s face shows up in those fantasies.

It’s a reminder of why you need a remedy for your lovesick symptoms, mostly because if a guy like Wonwoo is here with his rowdy friends, unable to keep his eyes that are full of adoration for you, then why would you waste your time with someone else right here?

You could… You could see yourself falling for Wonwoo. It’ll take time, that’s for sure, but you don’t think it’s impossible.

“How do you like your steak?” He asks, tongs in hand as he turns his head away from the grill to look at you. “Medium? Fully cooked?”

“Medium rare,” you answer, and Wonwoo serves you first before kindly asking the same question to your friends. P and Sunny are impressed, rolling their lips to suppress their giggles and teasing, wiggling their brows in your direction. 

“So,” P begins, putting down her chopsticks. “We heard you’re a racecar driver.”

He chuckles, rubbing his nape awkwardly. “I–I wouldn’t necessarily say that. Was a temp thing.”

Seungcheol nudges Wonwoo. “Don’t act all humble. It’s aight to say it, you’re a racecar driver now. You got to compete with Kyeomie, I’d say you deserve the title.” He winks teasingly, but you know he says it to give Wonwoo the push he needs. Seungcheol naturally leads their group of friends; you’ve seen him gesture to Mingyu to grab the tongs and start cooking when he sees plates empty, tell Minghao to ask the server for more drinks when the liquid in the glasses get low, and even just now, when he encourages Wonwoo to be a little bolder. Wonwoo’s pit crew wasn’t just his “pit crew”... they’re his friends. You admire that.

The night runs smoothly. P and Sunny are so impressed and smitten with Wonwoo, constantly encouraging you to make moves on him. Quite frankly, you even… forgot about Seokmin for a moment.

That is, until your eye catches him entering the restaurant.

← last chapter | next chapter →

[stevebattle]

TPR-Robina Toyota Partner Robot (2007), Toyota, Japan. "Robina was developed to promote Toyota’s vision of the personal robots we might one day own. Launched in 2007 by Toyota's Partner Robot division, two were built. From 2007 to 2009, this Robina model was used as a museum tour guide. After 2009 it returned to the research laboratory for a few years before it was retired in 2012. Robina has a ‘twin’ that still shows visitors around Toyota’s Kaikan Museum. Robina can sign autographs for visitors, using its dexterous jointed fingers, recognise and read 20,000 Japanese words, hold simple conversations, and navigate independently to avoid collisions with obstacles and people – hidden under Robina’s ‘skirt’ are two wheels that drive it forwards or backwards and four that help it manoeuvre" – Robina Partner Robot created by Toyota Motor Co.

[dr-xanders-diary]

Our beginning.. I love you..

From the very first time I ever saw you at that whos-it party, I knew I loved you. At first I just didn't know how I loved you. That detail would come later, but from the very first time I saw you, I knew, you were meant to be mine. You were meant for me. A perfect match. God himself couldn't have made us more perfect for each other. At the time, you just didn't know this.

God himself couldn't have made you more perfect. From the way you held yourself, the way you walked, spoke, your voice, your hair, down to the very fiber of your being. You, in all your perfection, standing there amidst the noise of everyday life, like an angel to calm a storm. In the very first moments of seeing you I knew, you'd change me. I would change for the better, I'd grow confident, sociable, I'd gain all the things that I had previously lacked. And that, that is when I decided in that very moment, to change the very course of both your life and my own life.

I took the first steps, I walked up to you, smiled and mustered all the charm that I could. Every romance book I had read, every detail of a loving relationship I had studied, and watched in envy, all came crashing within me and prepared me for this very moment and every moment to come. I was going to make you fall in love with me, I was going to become your prince charming, I was going to be your knight in shining armor. You didn't know it yet, but you would fall in love with me, and you would be deeply in love with me.. soon. Very soon.

In the moment, things went so quickly. I smiled, gestured a small wave with my hand, and reached out and gently took yours and said, "Hello, I'm ********** (X), you must be-.. sorry I don't think I quite caught your name-, or your number. I have a terrible memory do you mind reminding me". In that moment I could see you, your eyes gleamed, I'd never seen someone so perfect this close before. That moment changed my life, it changed me. By the end of the night we exchanged numbers and had spent several hours talking, I got to walk you out of the party and to your vehicle.

An handed down tan 1996 Toyota corolla, that your dad gave to you so you could get to work and home easily without having to worry about taking the train and bus. Which I learned upon looking into you.

You are smart, charismatic, kind, and so fucking gorgeous. The way your mind works, I could spend several hours listening to you and what you thought. You are everything I never thought I'd find in a person. Perfection, at least to me. I spent the next day checking and looking into every single detail I could find, about you; your past, your family, your history of dating, the schools you've attended in the past, your friends. Learning, studying, watching every video of you I could find, digging through thousands of pages of information of you I could get my hands on.

One thing I've learned, is you're very open about what you like; what you do, where you go, where you've been. I've learned your favorite to-go orders from your favorite restaurants' you have visited in the past. Places you've traveled and for how long, your therapists name, your doctors and the things you struggle with. You know.. you really should put your social media profiles on private. Someone dangerous could come across them and get the wrong idea of you. I need you to be smarter, safer than how you have been. The last thing we need, is someone coming along and finding out who you are, how special you are and taking you, away from me. With the amount of information about you, that you've shared online, I've learned what things you would like, and what things you wont. The algorithm I created for you, tediously curated to suit your tastes, will come in handy in order for me, to keep you happy.

As time went on, as we went on dates, on outings, I got to learn in depth, of the things you enjoy, we spent hours in libraries, museums, gardens, walking and hiking, going to new restaurants'; ones I recommended. I didn't think you'd be so into physical activities, but of course you are, you're perfect. I had a bit of catch up to do, to get into shape and gain the same stamina as you at first. But now I can outlast you tenfold, I can lift more than you much more easily, I can out run you, I can last longer than you running. I knew it, I knew you would make me a better person. I am better, because of you. I learned where you lived in the past, where you live now, plenty before you ever dare invite me over. I just had to know where you stayed, what you did when you were home, what you wore.. how you, pleasured yourself. So I could be the best person for you, so I can be the only person for you.

Of course the first time I ever went over, I didn't get to step inside on the account that I was only picking you up for a date. But later. While you worked, I took the liberty to go visit your ever so humble abode. I have to admit, you've quite the green thumb, darling. And your taste for interior design isn't bad at all, your apartment is-.. so very you. And you left me a present, leaving your recently worn night clothes out, half-hazardly hanging on the corner of your bed. What.. are you tempting me? Of course you are, and I just so happen to not be able to help myself; you'll probably blame your shirt missing on the dog. I took your night shirt in my left hand and brought it up to my nose. Inhaling your scent, still fresh. You smell so good. So fucking good, I can almost feel you here with me. I almost couldn't contain myself. 'Fuck. No. I can't disgrace your space like this' So, I stuffed most of that shirt in my pants pocket, the other part hanging out. Just for now, you'll never know it's missing and if you do.. well.

You know.. the inside of someone's home, or apartment is so telling, every detail you think doesn't matter. Well it says a lot about someone, and you, you're a clean person, a neat person, sophisticated. Like me. We are the same. Almost. But a good thing I learned, is that your dog is very friendly, he couldn't hurt a fly even if he wanted to. He's very sweet and loving, he's honest, and will think of me as a new friend by the time we 'officially' met.

I didn't mind playing the slow game, especially with what you've been through with your shit exes. I made sure to do things right, for you. For us, and finally it paid off. But you know, by the time you invited me over and showed me your favorite books, I already knew, I read them prior, for you.

You thought that I was smart, charismatic, and charming. So much so that, that night you invited me into not only your home, but your bed. Every touch against your skin, every kiss, every slow bite. Methodical, every rhythmic movement, careful and oh-. Your gasping, panting and moaning with every touch, every movement, just the way you like it. I knew that everything would come in handy, because I'd never seen you so pleasured. Especially when my lips wrapped around your- oh, and I trailed my tongue up along every crease and crevasse, teasing and swirled around your- oh. While I occupied my left hand to slowly apply pressure just above your pelvis, and glide my fingers in and out of your- ah mmn. And did you just-? How fast. But I know you're not done, I know that you can go again, that this is just the beginning of a well spent night.

We spent hours groaning, moaning, slow grinding and thrusting over and over, touching, grabbing and gripping onto each other until finally you couldn't go anymore. I made sure to wear you out well, to drain you of every orgasm in you. And I, well I had a great time making love to you in a way I hoped you could never forget. After, you had such shaky legs you could barely stand. I made sure you laid until you could walk, caring for you, making sure you went to the bathroom to pee, and drank water and had a snack. Before we laid and cuddled. You fell asleep in my arms as I spoke to you as calmly, comforting and loving as I could.

"That's okay, just feel the beat of my heart, the weight of my chest rising and falling against your own. Breathe in slow with me, inhaling and exhaling. You were wonderful. You made quite the mess~." "Ah yes, I did. I'm glad I was." "Yes. You did very good, amazing actually. You're such a good-" "You're really gorgeous, and your eyes shine like no other. They hold galaxies."

By morning we were officially dating, calling each other love, darling, honey. You were finally saying you were, mine. And that I was yours.

The long game does pay off.

This was just our beginning.. I love you.

And now you love me too, just like I said you would..

[gwendolynlerman]

Things that surprised me as a European tourist in the United States

This is based on my experience as a Spaniard traveling to the United States (specifically New York City and Washington, D. C.).

Like many people around the world, I have grown up in contact with U.S. culture through literature, film, and music, so I didn't experience much cultural shock, but some things still surprised me.

All vehicles (cars, trucks, school buses...) are huge! Most cars are pickup trucks or SUVs. The most common brands came from the United States, but I also saw many Japanese cars, especially Nissan and Toyota (mostly Prius, USAmericans seem to love this model 😂).

Customer service is great, not only in restaurants or places where one is expected to leave a tip but also in museums and subway stations.

I heard many different languages spoken by locals, including Mandarin, Russian, and Spanish, as well as European languages spoken by tourists, such as French, German, and Portuguese. (I think that this is mostly the case in big cities, and especially NYC.)

People wear face masks more often, although I guess that this is transient due to flu season. Still, way fewer people wear them in Spain.

Taxes are not included in the price. (I was aware of this but used to forget about it at first.)

Toilets are not as deep as in Europe (the water is really close to your butt 😖), and many flush automatically. Public restrooms always have seat covers but normally do not have a toilet lid.

Doors are really heavy! No wonder many people (mostly men) held them open for me. I once had to throw myself against the door to open it. What is the deal with doors in the U.S.? (Is it a NYC thing only?)

People were quite loud (and this is coming from someone who grew up in a country that is renowned for how loud we talk) and played music/videos without headphones in the subway 😑

Cops are surprisingly chill despite the reputation that they have. A guy was insulting a couple of them from across the subway platform, and they just smiled and waved at him. In Spain, it is a crime to insult a police officer, so I was surprised that they were so calm about the whole situation.

On that note, there were a lot of cops around the city at all times (even at 5 a.m.). I counted nine of them in Penn Station!

Drivers honk all the time because of every minor inconvenience. On Thanksgiving Day, there were a lot of traffic jams, and people were honking as if that would magically clear the streets... And, of course, if one person honked, the rest honked as well, so walking on the street on the main avenues was really deafening 😐

Traffic lights are quite far away from where cars have to stop.

Fire truck sirens are really loud and sound like emergency alarm systems. (It reminded me of those TikTok videos ranking them.)

People say "Excuse me" in the subway when going in or out, which was a nice change from the shoving and pushing I'm used to in Madrid.

I saw a lot of people carrying around huge reusable water bottles. (Here's an explanation for why USAmericans drink so much.)

People called me "Ma'am" instead of "Miss". I know it's the polite way to address people, but it was very weird 😂

New Yorkers love to use cardinal directions (north, south, east, west) when giving directions. Someone once told me, "Go west on Broadway" and I was like "I have trouble orienting myself when I use Google Maps, do you think I know which direction I'm going in at all times??".

There are lots of caution signs about worker safety on construction sites, both in English and Spanish, which leads me to think that there are many work accidents 🤔

As a solo female traveler, I was a bit concerned about my security in a city that I have heard is dangerous and in a country where mass shootings are a relatively normal occurrence, but I felt mostly safe. I was surprised to see many posters that read, "If you see something, say something".

Related to the above, I was shocked to see "This is a gun free zone" posters in public places and "No guns allowed" posters on supermarket doors.

I was really surprised to see ads with phone numbers with words in them, like the one below. After doing some research, I discovered they are called vanity numbers and are easier for people to remember. (If, like me, you're wondering how to dial these numbers, apparently you just press the number that corresponds to the letter on the keypad.)

I smelled marijuana everywhere! Although illegal in Spain, you can also smell it sometimes, but it seemed ubiquitous in NYC. (I personally hate the smell, which is why I noticed.)

[pure-ablution]

Do you have any advice for creating an online dating profile?

I’ve never used apps myself . . .

... but I do know how to put together a good profile! I’ve helped out several girlfriends with their profiles, and this is the very scientific formula that seems to get best results.

The Bio

You want to keep things short, sweet, and to the point. Your bio can’t be too long; it needs to be playful, but still make your intentions clear. If you’re using Hinge, then you’ll have multiple questions to choose from, and I recommend doing a bit of research around this and reading a few other Hinge-specific guides before you start. If you have the option for a voice prompt, use it, and make sure that you use it wisely—your voice matters just as much as what you say, and it should fit in with and enhance the overall vibe of your profile. Don’t overthink the bio, the photos are the most important part, but you do want to make sure that everything is cohesive.

The Photos

The photos are the most important part of your profile. Men are visual creatures and, honestly? I don’t think many people download dating apps because they appreciate the literary masterpiece that is the bio. You want to max out your photo count—I’m going to give advice for 6 photos, but adjust to the limits of whichever app you’re using.

The main photo

This is the first photo on your profile, and you want it to be your best one. My friends have used these photos as models for their own, and it always works a treat. There’s something about a backless or low-backed dress, looking over your shoulder, and sitting out in nature that just works wonders, and I’d definitely recommend using these photos as inspiration for your own shot. You want to be smiling softly, looking invitingly back at the camera, maybe brushing your hair behind your ear—the main focus of the photo should be on how contented and glowing you look.

The conversation starter

This is a photo that you want to have a crazy story behind it, and it needs to look fun and approachable. Most men will choose this photo as the one to start your conversation, so make sure you have something to say about it. It can be that time you travelled out to Mongolia in a banged-up Toyota, or that time you helped a cow give birth, but it needs to be fun and funny. You can really put anything here, and a lot of my girlfriends use old travel pictures or photos from our uni antics, but I’d suggest keeping it PG and avoiding anything that looks distinctly illegal or promiscuous—it needs to be a kind of wholesome fun.

A photo with the girls

A photo with the girls is a must, and I strongly suggest that you all agree to meet up and take the ‘the girls’ photo at some point and each use it on your own profile. It shows that you have friends, a social life beyond dating, and perhaps most importantly, your friends might be open to dating his friends. I’d recommend a group photo of around 4–6, all girls, and a reasonably natural, if not candid, shot at a cute event like brunch or a craft morning. It helps if you’re all roughly the same ‘level’ of beauty but different ‘types’, if that makes sense, so that nobody is outshining the others and none of you can be mixed up with someone else.

The other conversation starter

This is where you put in the slightly more cultured photo. It can be at a museum or a gallery, or a shot of you partaking in one of your hobbies, but it needs to be interesting and show you at your most passionate. Your eyes need to invite him to ask more—and, just to warn you, he will ask. We take photos at the museum near us, in front of our favourite paintings or statues, and quite literally have a short prepared analysis ready, in case he asks. You can’t be a phony on this one, you need to genuinely know what you’re talking about, so pick what you love and prep just in case.

A fancy event

I’ve put photos of Audrey Hepburn here because I can’t find anything on Pinterest that gives me what I want. This could be just a ‘my uni’ thing, but where I am, you need a black tie (or preferably white tie) photo. Just the one, and it doesn’t have to be over-the-top, but he needs to be able to visualise you in that environment and know that you’d slot right in. I like the photo on the left especially, and we’ve staged quite a few copies with the girls, because it shows you at your most sparkling, social self, and leaves him wondering who your conversation partner might be.

The spoilt princess

This is totally the Slavic girl in me coming out, but I firmly believe that you need a bouquet shot in your profile. It’s not tacky (usually—avoid those huge bouquets of 100 red roses!) and it can be as simple or as fancy as you like, but it shows you off and tells him instantly your expectations as a potential date, without being entitled about it. I love the bouquet shot and I think it can be done so well, it’s miles better than any equivalent with a fancy cocktail or whatever, and it can be played off totally innocently if need be.

[bonguri]

20240113 Ensyu area 8 by Bong Grit Via Flickr: 移動して豊田佐吉記念館。復元された生家の床の間には秋葉神社の掛け軸。 @Sakichi Toyoda Memorial Museum, Kosai city, Shizuoka pref.（静岡県湖西市 豊田佐吉記念館）

[ryo-hirakawa]

Three people to be trapped in a museum/supermarket and indoor playground for 24h. (U can change people for each occasion and no other people will be there)

after seeing the séb and brendon dynamic in wec full access qatar 2024 episode i kind of need to see what they'd do in a night at the musuem scenario. i considered making it a full toyota 8 team but odds are ryo would just not engage while kaz is kind of their boss now so. i nominate ROBIN! i have faith the leo in him will reveal itself plus he's fe teammates with séb anyway and im dying to see what their dynamic could offer.

it would be funny to let kids loose in a supermarket i think. question is which 3 kids. considering that we can turn this into a content creation opportunity i will not nominate any prema kids because they do enough of that. instead i propose campos revive their dead youtube channel (they really just dropped the aussies q&a vid and disappeared) and put isack, pepe and chris in a waitrose or whatever they have at milton keynes and let them do whatever they want. tbf there's a good chance they just spend the whole time yapping and if that's the case we'll just turn it into the pepechris podcast ep 1 ft isack

im gonna put neel and ale in an indoor playground for the bonus porsche vs ferrari round we all need. the third person must be a neutral party, i think we should get jonny bc i trust he'd give us live updates via the r/wec discord server plus that kid stays winning the idgaf war

[beechersnope]

short preview of a thing that's in itself a small part of a longer thing

***

They'd decided to do fully matching costumes this year instead of contrasting costumes with a similar theme. Lando had splurged on them, hiring someone on Etsy to handmake shimmering metallic bodysuits with glow-in-the-dark circuitry and fully functional LED buttons that littered the colored panels of both the front and back of the suit, along the breastplate and hips, down each arm, and along the length of the spine. The only difference between the two is the color: Lando’s bodysuit is a pearlescent fuchsia while Oscar’s is a shimmering teal.

The silvery face paint and white iris contact lenses pushes it over the top—in Oscar’s opinion, Lando has gone so far that even with the skintight bodysuits, they are firmly in the realm of scary versus sexy.

“I don’t think you’re going to get laid this year,” Oscar tells Lando honestly, turning to find a matching cyborg face staring back at her.

“There’s a zipper in the crotch,” Lando counters, the implication going miles over her head. “Easy access. I planned ahead.”

Oscar just turns back to Lando’s vanity and lets out a soft sigh.

The party is in full swing by the time they arrive at Daniel’s mountainside—well, Oscar still doesn’t like calling it a mansion, but calling it a McMansion seems worse, even if that’s exactly what it is. Regardless, they have to park halfway down the narrow street at the very end of a line of cars that spills out of Daniel’s already outrageously expansive driveway.

Oscar eyes Lando’s beat-up Toyota with a dubious frown, slightly worried that the parking brake won’t hold its own against a seven-percent incline.

Lando doesn’t seem similarly concerned, locking the doors with a carefree whistle and then tossing her keys as well as both their cellphones into her purse. Their bodysuits might have crotch access, but they sure as hell don’t have pockets.

By the time they ascend the foothill Daniel’s house sits atop, where it overlooks the tiny city in the valley below, Oscar is somehow sweating from exertion and yet freezing all at the same time.

The front door is wide open, and inside, the soft orange overhead lights that Oscar remembers from her previous visits have all been switched out with black light bulbs instead. The décor is different, too. It looks like Daniel plundered an entire warehouse full of Halloween kitsch to achieve the effect he’s gone for, which seems to be turning his entire house into a walk-through haunted house experience.

Oscar follows Lando closely as they move from the foyer—which has ghoulish portraits that shift between scenes, reminiscent of the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland—into the living room—which is now a museum of cryptid taxidermy, around which partygoers converse with glowing concoctions in their hands, though Oscar spies more than one couple with their hands down each other’s pants as she and Lando traverse the room.

They finally find Daniel in the kitchen: presently, a mad scientist’s laboratory, complete with bubbling potions and blinking machinery lining the walls. And of course, Daniel, as the host and de facto bartender, is dressed as none other than the mad scientist himself.

He looks elated when he glances up to find Lando and Oscar standing in front of him at the island in the middle of the room after waiting for the half-dozen people in front of them to be served first.

“Can I get you ladies something to drink?” he asks with a broad grin. “I don’t mean to brag, but I make a mean mojito.”

Oscar’s heart jumps a beat. It’s impossible to tell from Daniel’s expression or tone whether he meant to use the phrase they agreed upon previously, but just in case he had— “Yes,” Oscar says emphatically as she scoots a bit closer to the bar. “I’d love something to drink.” She’s aware of Lando giving her a strange look, but Oscar ignores it, focused entirely on the brief flash of recognition that crosses Daniel’s face. Even if he hadn’t intended to ask her permission, he now knows he has it.