Ok, well, I lost my previous account due to stupidity on my part. Before that, I got a prompt from an anon: Taito. Yamato’s blondness I’m not sure whether the ‘blondness’ should be taken as stupidity, but I took another approach xD I hope you enjoy! Sorry if it’s crappy, but I’m short on time and it’s already late...
Since I lost all my followers and, thus, the anon might not be able to find this, can I ask @taiyamalover to spread this post for me, please? And to the anon that prompted (sorry it’s so late!) can you please drop me a message if you see this? :3 I’m sorry for all the trouble!!!
Taichi stared at his boyfriend, sitting on the other end of the sofa they were sharing. He was contemplating something, but had yet to gather the courage to voice his thoughts. It was ironic, really, that the bearer of courage was afraid of his boyfriend. Then again, the blond could be as vicious as he was pretty—and he was plenty pretty in Taichi’s opinion.
Yamato glanced away from the notebook he was pouring over and at his boyfriend. He knew something was bothering the brunet, but it didn’t seem like anything big enough to badger him about just yet. However, if Taichi’s anxiety went on for even half an hour longer, then Yamato would be forced to take action.
Ten minutes passed, in which Yamato continued to study his notes, whilst Taichi stared off into space, thinking about the magazine he had glanced through that morning.
Taking a large, silent breath, Taichi turned himself, so that he was sitting sideways on the sofa, facing Yamato.
“Are you a natural blond?”
“Yes.” Yamato replied without looking up.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove it?”
This elicited a reaction: Yamato picked up his gaze, blue eyes staring straight ahead at the blank TV. Slowly, he turned his head to Taichi, cocking it at the last minute.
“What?”
“Can you prove to me that you’re a natural blond?”
Yamato gave him a weird look, glancing back at his notes. “Have you ever seen root growth of any other colour?”
“No, but that just means that you’re very good at hiding it. Maybe you spend a few minutes every morning re-dying it, just to cover it up.”
“Taichi,” Yamato closed his notebook with a snap. “Why are you even asking me this?”
For the first time since the start of the conversation, Taichi shifted his gaze away from Yamato and to out the window that was behind said blond. “Well… My mother had one of her female-magazines lying on the kitchen table and I had a flick through it whilst eating breakfast.”
After a minute it became apparent that Taichi would not be continuing without a prompt.
“And…?”
“And it had a little thing about blondes…”
“And…?”
“It was actually in a comic that the magazine has.”
Yamato had an inkling to where this conversation was going.
“And…?”
A short silence followed, where Yamato observed Taichi observing his hands on his lap.
Suddenly, Taichi’s head snapped up. His eyes held a hint of discomfort. “There was some mention of carpets and drapes… I didn’t get the joke.”
After a slight pause, Yamato shrugged a shoulder and made to open his notebook again. “So what? It’s not that good of a joke anyway.”
Taichi’s head dropped to one side. “But I think I should get it, since I have a blond boyfriend.”
Yamato flicked through a few pages, before settling on one, simultaneously settling the conversation: “It honestly doesn’t matter, Taichi.”
“But it does to me!”
Without even looking, Yamato knew that Taichi had a pout on his face.
“It really doesn’t.”
“Does too!”
“Does not!”
“I want to know how you would prove to someone that you’re a real blond!”
To Taichi’s surprise, Yamato blushed.
“What?” Taichi leaned forward, hands supporting his upper body on the sofa. “How would you prove it?”
Yamato tried to avoid looking into the sparkling chocolate eyes; he would not cave and tell Taichi where the joke lay.
Taichi, however, could not be deterred. He crawled into Yamato’s lap, a feral grin on his face. The notebook was dropped onto the floor.
“Come on, Yama. You can tell me. There’s no one else around to hear it.”
“It’s nothing, really…” Yamato mumbled, still trying to avoid those eyes.
Taichi grabbed the pale chin, placing a light kiss on rose-coloured lips.
“It can’t be that bad.” The brunet mumbled against his boyfriend’s lips.
Yamato had closed his eyes for the kiss, but opened them now, staring into Taichi’s.
“Fine.” He gritted out. “It’s to do with hair.”
Taichi sat back on the sofa, blinking owlishly.
“That’s a bit obvious, isn’t it? I mean, the point is to prove that you’re blond, so of course it would mean that your hair is blond. That doesn’t even prove it.”
Yamato sent him an annoyed look, picking up his notebook, for lack of anything better to do.
“No, no, not like that. I meant all hair.” Taichi looked confused, and Yamato could see the gears turning, so he hastened to add: “I mean like my eyebrows and the hair on my arms and legs. It’s blond or light brown at darkest.” He ended his explanation with a shrug.
“Oh.”
Taichi dropped his gaze to the space between the two males, contemplating this.
“So there.” Yamato said, hoping the conversation was now over.
The blond studied in silence for a minute before:
“I never noticed before…”
Yamato glanced at the other from the corner of his eye. “It’s not like it will change anything; it doesn’t matter.”
“But I should have noticed something like that about you.”
“Well it’s not like it’s a big deal. I don’t think about your body hair all the time, you know.”
Taichi gave a short laugh. “Yeah, I gue—” He froze, staring wide-eyed at his now-blushing boyfriend. The blond knew Taichi had caught onto the joke.
Sure enough, the feral grin returned to the brunet’s face.
“When you say ‘all hair,’ does that by any chance include more private hair? Perhaps located somewhere I haven’t seen yet…?”
The darkening of Yamato’s blush was enough to answer Taichi’s question. The brunet threw his head back with a bark of laughter—only to get a notebook in his face.
“Shut up, Taichi!”
Wiping wetness from the corners of his eyes, Taichi grinned at his beet-red boyfriend.
“Can you show me?”
“No!”
“Please?”
“No!”
Yamato stood up from the sofa, only managing to take a few steps before Taichi grabbed his wrist. With a yelp, Yamato was pulled back onto the sofa, with a still-grinning Taichi pinning him there.
“Just a peek?” Taichi asked, fingering the waistband of the other’s jeans.
“Taichi, no!” In his panic, Yamato’s voice came a few octaves higher than usual.
Taichi sat back chuckling.
“Sorry, Yama. I honestly won’t. It was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.” He leaned down to kiss the other.
Yamato didn’t kiss back at first, in defiance of the teasing, but eventually relented. That led to a short make-out session. It was broken by Taichi pulling away and brushing a few stray blond hairs from Yamato’s eye.
“I will be keeping this information in mind, by the way, for when we’re ready for that step.”
“Taichi!”
The exclamation was followed by the thud of Taichi falling off the sofa, and his laughter on the floor.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
My Burt Lancaster film of last night was Gunfight at the OK Corral (John Sturges, 1957), a landmark hit of the fifties, with one of those ballads sung throughout (by Frankie Laine), that help pace and narrate and that Cat Ballou (Elliot Silverstein, 1965) would parody to great effect a decade later. What struck me most was not just the whiteness of Sturges’ West– there isn’t a black person, Indian or Mexican in the whole movie — but its blondness. Everyone seems fair haired or blu-eyed or both: not just Kirk and Burt and Joan Van Fleet, but the supporting cast as well: Earl Holliman, John Ireland, Martin Milner, DeForest Kelly, Lee Van Cleef. Rhonda Fleming’s red hair is about the only bit of diversity. Dennis Hopper as the youngest Scanton brother, fresh from his appearance in Rebel Without A Cause (Nicholas Ray, 1955), lit very beautiful to underline the tragedy of his death to come, still to shed his baby fat, and half the size of Burt, is what led to this thought.
The film pays subtle hommage to John Ford’s My Darling Clementine (1946):
It’s worth comparing what this film might signify in contrast to Burt and Kirk’s first pairing as two Depression gangsters caught up in a postwar world of passion, crime and shadows a decade earlier in I Walk Alone (Byron Haskin, 1947).
It’s also worth contrasting to the presence of native peoples, Mexicans and blacks –the latter often in tiny or non-speaking roles but as soldiers or figures of authority — in the Robert Aldrich/ Burt Lancaster westerns such as Apache and Vera Cruz, both released in 1954.
An observation on the blondness of Sturges’ West in Gunfight at the OK Corral My Burt Lancaster film of last night was Gunfight at the OK Corral (John Sturges, 1957), a landmark hit of the fifties, with one of those ballads sung throughout (by Frankie Laine), that help pace and narrate and that…
