#Personal Fitness Website Designing

[medicinemane]

Few things piss me off more than when I'm researching something, and I find someone asking the question I want answered, and the response is just "you shouldn't want that, just do this instead"

Today, it's me trying to look up a build for this witch farm concept that uses raid captains to manipulate the witches ai instead of using redstone

"Just use the shifting floors farms, they're just about as good" people respond... you stupid prick, that's not an answer to the question actually asked. I don't know about these guys, but me, I want it cause it's novel and there's no redstone, and I like putting bespoke prestige projects on my server... you might have noticed I tend to do form over function on a lot of my farms... so this is about form, the function is just a bonus

Second example, I wanted to see if there was any way to make Terra Invicta load faster, "just don't save scum"... you idiot, one that's just stupid advice, people can play games however they want, but two this once again doesn't answer the question

Like yeah, how dare people want to know if there's a way to make a game load saves faster when loading takes like 1 minute

If they at least phrased stuff like "sorry, I don't know how to do that, he's an alternative you might try", it's not helpful but it's at least polite

But man... I just get tired of people not answering the question being asked and instead answering the one they've decided was asked

(Actually, a legit real problem in the real world such as... with doctors who don't listen to their patient and decide they know what's really being asked. Don't do it, answer the asked question, or at least ask questions to confirm what's being asked before going off pig headed)

[coffee-and-geto]

“BE MY VOICE AND I CHOOSE YOU TO FILL THE VOID”

“Why a second chance when the first one didn’t work?” “Because we’re too stubborn, love.”

★ pairing: fashion designer! suguru geto x supermodel! reader

★ summary: after you broke up with suguru a few years ago, you swore you’d never have anything to do with him ever again… until new york fashion week arrived and you found yourself forced to take part in the event with suguru geto—aka your ex and one of the most famous personalities in the fashion world, as your fashion designer. but perhaps the latter will take advantage of the event to do his utmost to regain your heart.

★ warnings: +18 only, smut, modern au! (no curses), exes to lovers, geto is your ex-boyfriend, fluff, (light) angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety attack, bossy! reader, nobara is the reader’s assistant but also plays cupid, only one bed/second chance trope, jealous! geto, gojo makes an appearance because he’s a fashion designer too, switch! geto, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, handjob (m! receiving), body praises, fanart by @ / hiikeu.

★ wc: 15,257

“He wants you among his troupe.”

You nearly spit out the sip of your drink through the straw. “Excuse me?” you laugh out loud.

But even in front of the serious expression of one of the employees of the agency you work for, it’s hard to keep your own. A fit of giggles takes over your stomach, releasing uncontrollable laughter that echoes throughout your dressing room.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Nobara — your assistant — squeezes her planner against her chest — a nervous tic that has never been trivial to you. Silence finally returns to the room, and neither of the other two women utter a single word. The corners of your lips fall. “This is a joke, right?” you whisper breathlessly.

Nobara pulls her phone out of her pocket and scrolls for a few seconds before showing you an announcement from the official website of New York Fashion Week. She is followed by the employee who hands you a tablet screen displaying an email signed by someone you had erased from your life years ago:

Suguru Geto.

°°°°

“Next.” Suguru’s sharp tone cracks like a whip as another model steps onto the casting studio podium. His fist clenches nervously around the handle of the megaphone, resting its bell on the foldable wooden table.

In front of the silhouette of yet another candidate, Suguru’s gaze scrutinizes the model’s fine features that adorn her refined face with prominent cheekbones. A defined jawline. Hazel eyes and a slender body.

“Next,” Suguru repeats mechanically — perhaps because his eyes are desperately searching for your form? With each new woman, he hopes to meet your captivating gaze. And he almost systematically dismisses everyone when it’s not you?

“Mr. Geto, maybe we should—”

“Silence,” he cuts off without a glance at Manami, his assistant.

She sighs and offers an apologetic smile to the model who leaves the podium with a look of icy disappointment. Suguru’s right leg starts to twitch slightly in his chair—a sign of anxiety gradually eroding the calm he tries to maintain in his troubled mind.

“Night Skies: The Illuminated Darkness.” 

A relatively inspiring theme and quite easy to design. So why has no inspiration come to him since the announcement? Why do his thoughts constantly drift to outfits that only you deserve to wear, making him prefer to withdraw his participation rather than let someone else wear them?

Fuck.

After the next four hours, Suguru and Manami leave the casting studio for a break in the lounge. He leans against the counter, letting his obsidian eyes fix on a void, swept away by his overwhelming reflections. In the background, the coffee machine rumbles.

You had to join his troupe. Even though he already envisions a firm refusal from your agency. But he is ready to try anything for you — even risks that could endanger his career.

Manami clears her throat slightly and takes a hesitant step towards him. “Mr. Geto? Out of the three hundred top models proposed by partner agencies, we’ve only shortlisted four…” She fiddles with her nails painted in vermillion red, bites her lower lip, and adds, “And that’s under my insistence. At this point, I seriously doubt—”

“Write a letter to this agency,” Suguru cuts in once again without listening to a word of what she tried to explain. He hands her a business card from your agency and mentions your name. “You must know her. I want her among the models for my collection. Otherwise, I’ll cancel my participation,” he declares in an uncompromising tone.

Manami carefully takes the small card and studies it. She lets out a perplexed sigh and nods. “Alright.”

°°°°

“No, absolutely not! I refuse! Reply to him that it won’t be possible!”

“Miss, please—” Nobara tries to calm you and prevent you from committing murder against the top model manager of the agency.

“We’re talking about Suguru Geto! THE internationally renowned designer!” the manager yells with such vehemence that it surely carries well beyond your dressing room.

“I don’t give a fucking damn! There are thousands of models in the world! No one knows, so reply to this email with a fucking refusal!” you yell back just as fiercely. Your usually well-groomed hair is slightly disheveled by a few rebellious strands as agitated as your anger.

There is no way you’re participating in New York Fashion Week or any other event involving Suguru Geto. Not after everything that happened. 

Not after he abandoned you. 

No.

“But are you aware of what you’re saying—”

“Shut up! If you’re not happy, I’ll quit this damn agency right now! Do you think you’re the only one who wants me? I have hundreds who will be at my feet as soon as I’ll leave!” you spit after a bitter laugh.

Nobara’s soothing hands rest on your shoulders and force you to sit in a chair. Assured that you won’t attempt another assault on the manager, who has turned pale at your declaration, your ginger-haired assistant easily pushes the manager out, whispering to her not to set foot back in here until the refusal is sent to Geto.

She tries to argue one last time, her voice a bit more pleading and less aggressive, but Nobara slams the door in her face. She leans against it, sighs deeply, and closes her eyes for a moment. “Phew…”

As for your own state, ‘fury’ is the perfect adjective. Hair in disarray, cheeks flushed with anger, chest heaving with irregular, harsh breaths, and a vein throbbing along your neck; it’s as if you could turn your dressing room upside down at any moment.

Nobara heads to your automatic water dispenser and pours you a fresh glass. After ensuring you drink every drop, she notices you seem calmer.

Your bloodshot eyes meet her gaze, and she offers you a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll personally make sure everything is sent properly.”

You nod and run a hand over your face to wipe away your overflowing emotions.

It’s crazy how just the mention of that cursed name can set you off. But the final straw was when your manager was informed of Suguru Geto’s request for you to join his models for New York Fashion Week. She insisted relentlessly despite your patience for a no.

She said she didn’t understand. 

Of course, no one could understand when no one knew that one of the world’s greatest designers had been your boyfriend before your careers took radically different paths. But how could you explain when he was the one who pushed you to break up with him, leaving you alone, lost, and broken with only an unknown fate to face without anyone’s help?

It was without anyone’s help that you built yourself into who you are today. 

Even less your international career.

All the agencies are at your feet, but the only person you wanted to see there wasn’t. 

So there was no reason to pay attention. 

You will not participate in New York Fashion Week. As long as it involves Suguru Geto, anyway.

°°°°

Mouth agape in shock, Suguru thinks what he sees before him is a prank. 

But it’s indeed a clear refusal from the agency you work for. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

NO.

Suguru storms out of his design office and rushes upstairs to his luxurious bedroom to rummage through his personal belongings. An old photo album is hidden under the piles of clothes in his dresser. He scatters his things carelessly, paying no attention to the mess, and with trembling hands, he drops to his knees, flipping through the album.

On each page, a plastic film covers photos of you and him. One — the most painful — is the first one he took at the beginning of your relationship with him. Both of you standing next to an ice cream vendor, radiant smiles on your faces with sun rays illuminating both your faces, you had your arms around Suguru’s neck. Another one, as he turns the pages. You, lying in his bed one morning. He had taken it the night you had your first time with him. Your figure, which he worships, is covered with his sheets, and your mouth is slightly open as you sleep. A cute little drool escapes from your mouth.

All these photos hold real memories. Proving that nothing was imagined by him when, in his moments of madness, he wondered how he could have ended up here if it all was real. His heart twists in his chest when his eyes catch a photo of him with a bouquet of flowers in his hands and your lips pressed against his cheek. Those flowers were the first Suguru had ever received. He had never received flowers — not even from his own family. You were the very first to give him any.

Suguru pinches his lips, lost in reflections that lead him to check your Instagram page. On your profile, your posts are often collaborations with luxury brands, your body wrapped in fabrics showing your silhouette in its best light, some old videos of you as a child that you wished to share with the world, or random photos of you in pajamas in front of your mirror or with your daily makeup.

He couldn’t help but watch your stories, your posts, your interviews, and your shows in the shadows, never intervening as much in public as in private. 

Suguru is obsessed with you. 

And he has never stopped being, even after you broke up with him years ago. He never wanted to end things with you. 

He pushed you to do it so as not to hurt you more than you would be.

It was when you announced the breakup that he felt all the accumulated resentment he had caused in your heart, and he was nostalgically happy for you. 

You no longer had to endure the pain of canceled dates, missed calls, his constant absence.

He knew, at the time, that he was hurting you. He knew you hid your wounds behind forced smiles and excuses you found for his lack of involvement and neglect without him even having to make them when his career started to take off in the fashion world. He understood that he didn’t deserve you.

Yet today, Suguru burns for you. 

He is ready to risk his career to find you and seek your forgiveness. 

He is ready to lose all his dignity, let you use him like a mere pawn, humiliate him, and break him. 

All that, just for you.

Even if he doesn’t deserve you, Suguru wants your forgiveness at all costs. 

Even if he doesn’t deserve you, Suguru wants to redeem himself to you. 

Leaving your Instagram page, he opens Twitter and tries to find a way to force your hand to participate with him in New York Fashion Week, to meet him, to allow him to do everything to deserve you again and no longer have any regrets. 

He taps the ‘New Tweet’ icon and writes words that may place his reputation on an unsteady platter that could fall at any moment.

°°°°

The grip around your phone threatens to make it explode between your fingers. Your knuckles whiten, your hand trembles, and your eyes burn as you read the few words on a Twitter post where you’ve been tagged. It’s as if this time, you’ll actually turn your dressing room and even your agency’s headquarters upside down.

“@reader’sagency. @reader, would you do me the honor of participating with me as a model at the next New York Fashion Week? :)”

Your eye twitches, and you robotically lift your head toward your assistant. “Nobara, I beg you. Pinch me, hit me, slap me, but tell me this is just a nightmare.”

She looks up from your phone and sighs with a forced smile. “It’s... a nightmare?”

You grab a cushion from your red velvet sofa and bury your face in it to muffle a long scream from the depths of your soul. Nobara chuckles and places a hand on your shoulder. “You can just refuse. I’m sure everything will be fine. A public refusal should calm him down,” she whispers.

“Have you seen the comments, retweets, and reposts?” you murmur in a small voice, your brain numb.

Nobara frowns and shakes her head before taking out her own phone. But you stop her by handing her yours without lifting your face from the cushion. “No... Already? But... He posted it less than twenty-four hours ago!” Nobara breathes out in astonishment, covering her mouth with her hand.

Indeed, even though Geto’s tweet is less than a day old, it hasn’t stopped an overwhelming number of internet users and fans worldwide from reacting strongly to the news. You could very well refuse publicly yourself or through your agency — even humiliate him by posting a screenshot of the initial private request that was rejected, making him look desperate and creepy. But that’s not the issue.

By daring to renew his request publicly as if the previous one never existed, he’s putting your reputation and your fans’ hopes — whom you cherish so much — at risk.

If you refuse, you risk disappointing many and tarnishing your image as an arrogant and condescending supermodel for refusing to participate in such a globally anticipated event with one of the best-known designers in the world — despite the fact that no one knows about your past connection with Geto.

The reactions are so hyped, so excited and amazed at the possibility of you and Geto forming a partnership that would result in something beyond imagination.

Suguru Geto has just forced your hand, hovering a threat over both your career and reputation, as well as his own. But you need to make a decision.

You lift your head from the cushion and take a deep breath to brace yourself for what you’re about to do.

“Nobara?”

°°°°

With one foot in a pair of shiny white stiletto sandals and an outfit of the same color, one of your bodyguards helps you step out of the black sedan with your first step onto the ground. You stand up elegantly, wearing dark sunglasses. You are escorted in front of a huge building — one familiar to you from the pages of fashion magazines you usually read — and the immaculate sliding doors open for you.

You stand in the middle of the enormous hall, head held high and one eyebrow raised. “Weren’t the other models supposed to be here at the specified time?” you ask Nobara, who hurries to join you at your side.

“That’s what the email indicated…” she sighs, busy arranging the white fur draped over your arms, framing your long strapless dress in the same color as your heels — a tribute to Marilyn Monroe. Nobara lifts her head with a worried frown. “He couldn’t have stood us up or changed the address at the last minute—”

A confident and cheerful female voice calls your name. In a synchronized movement, you and your assistant turn toward an elevator entrance where a fairly tall woman with a slender and elegant figure, dressed in a long sleeveless Byzantine purple dress, stands. Your two bodyguards follow you and Nobara to join the woman, but she raises a firm hand.

“Your assistant will suffice.” She smiles professionally, and you nod, entering the elevator with the other two women. Like Nobara, she holds a clipboard against her chest and almost looks at you with admiration. “It’s an honor to meet you in person.”

You offer her a polite half-smile, and the elevator begins to climb its endless floors.

“My name is Manami Suda, Suguru Geto’s personal assistant and one of his executives,” she continues, glancing at Nobara. “And you are?”

“Nobara Kugisaki, her personal assistant,” Nobara replies with equal seriousness, and a hint of pride fills your chest. “But since you are Mr. Geto’s assistant, that answers our question. Why are we the only ones to arrive at the agency on time? Where are the other models?” she asks, tilting her head to the side, skeptically.

A small chime announces the arrival at the very top floor, and the doors open to let the three of you out.

Manami doesn’t lose her smile and leads the way down a corridor with an immaculate gray carpet. Her black heels make muffled sounds with each step until reaching a door where she knocks three times. “Everything will be explained by Mr. Geto himself,” she assures, opening the door after a ‘come in’ is heard from the other side.

The voice, though muffled by the door, is easily recognizable. A bitter pang grips your heart, but you shake it off within seconds with a blink.

Manami steps aside and introduces you as you enter.

At the back of the office stands a black swivel chair facing away from you — masking the already known identity of the owner and adding palpable tension.

Manami discreetly leaves, closing the door silently, leaving you to face one of your worst nightmares. The chair turns to face you and Nobara, and the face of Japan’s most popular designer and couturier lays his dark eyes on you.

You remain secretly frozen a few meters away, back to the door, your eyes coldly staring at your ex.

Suguru Geto has always had a reputation for being a man of style, in his behavior, his language, and his way of dressing. While the basic suit he wears contrasts with the extravagant outfits that the wealthiest designers can afford — in this field, they are certainly experts, and some can wear clothes as expensive as the series of Picasso’s “Les Femmes d’Alger” paintings — his perfectly sculpted body and charm embellish the slightest thing he wears, even if it was straight from an old supermarket. But if there’s one prominent feature of his face that can match his advantageous physique (his body), it’s his hair. Being a chic, elegant, and refined man, Suguru is also known for his iconic long raven hair. With strands cascading down his back and bangs framing his temple, the half-bun at the back of his head has always earned him numerous compliments and collaborations with the most well-known brands for their haircare products.

Suguru’s piercing eyes narrow as his lips stretch into a smile. Your name rolling off his tongue gives you goosebumps. “Welcome. Please, have a seat.” With a broad gesture of his hand, he indicates two cocoa-colored leather chairs at the end of a ridiculously long glass table.

You take a seat without looking at Suguru at first, and Nobara seems to read your thoughts as she immediately asks, “Where are the other models?”

Suguru places his forearms on the table in a measured gesture, but as he responds, his gaze never leaves yours. “None are at this agency, it seems.” And it all feels as if asking such a question is stupid.

“That’s what was written in the email,” you reply in a dry voice.

“That’s what was written in the email,” Suguru confirms with a strange softness. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? If I hadn’t said that, you would have refused the meeting.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

Suguru’s smile widens even more as he continues, “Aren’t you happy to see me again?” And for a nanosecond, you thought you saw his irises darken.

Nobara alternates her gaze between you and Suguru, completely lost.

“Mr. Geto,” your tongue clicks against your palate, “I came here to discuss the initial progress of the collection you will present at New York Fashion Week. Nothing else.” You pause. “If it’s for any other subject, please address my manager, and I can leave right now.” Your frozen facial mask doesn’t falter at all.

“Awwww… You’re breaking my little heart, love—”

“Enough.”

Nobara looks dubious. “You… you already know each other?”

“We…” You pause, torn between the idea of confessing everything to Nobara or pretending nothing happened. “In the past. Before we became known,” you reluctantly admit. “But it doesn’t matter. I have nothing to do with anyone now.”

Suguru’s gaze darkens and never leaves yours. Yet, he doesn’t say a word, and an uncomfortable silence sets in.

Nobara decides to break it by clearing her throat and speaking again. “I— I see. I won’t say a word,” she murmurs.

You sigh and straighten slightly in your seat. “Fine. Let’s discuss the proposed theme.”

Suguru’s Adam’s apple moves as he swallows, and during the next half-hour, neither of you brings up your past relationship with Suguru again. The choice of the leading model was quickly settled on being you — because among all the proposals from partner agencies, no other model in Japan reaches your level of fame.

Suguru also doesn’t waste time revealing that he has selected very few models since the theme announcement. The delay will potentially impact the preparation and organization for New York Fashion Week, but he hasn’t bothered to explain why. He simply asked for your help with the rest of the selection.

You hesitated before accepting, finding it strange that someone like him is so behind. But how could you know that you are Suguru’s muse — his source of inspiration, the purpose of his existence? He is much more confident than a few weeks ago since he finally saw you again and ensured you decided to work by his side. It’s only a matter of time before you settle the score with the low blow he dealt you — something impossible to do with witnesses like Nobara around.

The agreements also included a trip from Tokyo to New York. The group will be accommodated in a secure, comfortable, and luxurious hotel until Fashion Week ends and preparations allow access to dressing rooms for each model.

This means being much closer to Suguru than expected...

°°°°

“What do you think?” 

“I’m not a stylist.” 

“That’s true; you’re more than that.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Come on… Don’t be so rude! I need your help!” Suguru grins, and you roll your eyes, noting the name of a model who just walked past. 

On the runway where hundreds and hundreds of models from all over the world are parading, you, along with Suguru — much to your dismay — are perched on a high platform giving a panoramic view of each model. Of course, he had to move his two-seater table just to spend time with you — a detail he didn’t hesitate to hide from you. What’s the point? he muses with amusement, glancing at you; from the side, he gets a view of your hair falling like a curtain along your cheeks, your nose bent over your clipboard as you jot down names of models that would be interesting to keep for Fashion Week. This poses no problem in itself, especially for an event like this.

If only your partner wasn’t Suguru Geto. 

Ugh.

“Help you? While I’m the only one noting names while you harass me with your pathetic attempts at conversation? Don’t pretend to ask my opinion when you’ve barely looked at more than ten models,” you retort irritably. The ballpoint pen rolls over the paper with obvious frenzy.

“‘Harass’ is a bit harsh,” Suguru comments, his lips pursed in a mockingly offended pout — just to hide his predatory smile. “I’d say I’m trying to have a conversation — something you, let’s be honest, avoid like the plague.” A smile curves his thin lips. “And then, why bother looking at what doesn’t interest me when I already have what I want. I’ve never bitten, you know,” he whispers, his eyes softened by a tenderness he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

“You don’t have me,” you respond immediately. You raise your eyebrows and, without looking at him, you continue, “Oh really? You do have quite a resemblance to dogs,” You wrinkle your nose to sneer mockingly as he takes offense. It’s strange because you haven’t laughed in front of Suguru for years. But as expected, the laugh is not joyful; on the contrary, it’s meant to hurt him because you still can’t stand his presence — even less when it’s forced.

“Hey! You’re insulting me!” he frowns and wipes away a laugh. Suguru shakes his head and sighs. “How cruel.”

Your lips turn downwards, and you roll your eyes yet again (you could have won an award for the record number of eye rolls in such a short time). Ignoring the feeling of vice and hatred gnawing at your heart, you refocus on the runway several meters below. The blinding spotlights brilliantly illuminate all these models eager to participate in the highly anticipated Fashion Week alongside Suguru Geto, the internationally renowned stylist, and you, a supermodel equally famous — while you both are plunged into the shadows of the upper floor that looks more like a hallway where stage technicians usually come to secure and manipulate high-up equipment, rather than anything else. Especially when the provided table is just foldable wood and almost fragile to abrupt movements.

Your eye catches a rather tall model with long ebony hair and golden, radiant skin. Her silhouette seems almost ethereal, and it’s at this moment that you don’t regret for a single second having taken your life into your own hands when you were alone just to admire the beauty of all these women of various beauties, shapes, and ages. The female body is beautiful.

No, magnificent.

“That one…” you murmur, noting the candidate’s name announced by Manami below. You bite your lower lip in a concentration tic. “She’s perfect. We’ll keep her for later.”

Suguru nods, but his gaze hasn’t once rested on the model whose name you just mentioned. His irises don’t leave your features, which he has missed so much, especially at this distance. “Hmm…” he hums simply. He gets lost in his contemplation.

You haven’t changed a bit.

Even if your hair is styled differently, your makeup meticulously done, and your chic and luxurious fashion sense, to Suguru, you left him in the same state you are now. He knows your body by heart — not thanks to the photos he kept of you — but because your existence has marked his so much that your simple face is forever etched in his retina.

When Suguru says he is obsessed with you, he goes to the end of his words.

Of course, he regrets his past actions and seeks the right moment to ask for your forgiveness, but he couldn’t hold back.

It was stronger than him.

°°°°

In the spacious studio typically reserved for smaller fashion shows (the irony noted), today it is being used to give Suguru a first taste of what his final troupe was proposing. With your help, Suguru has finally moved on to the next stage just before the outfit creations begin.

Manami, who is backstage, is managing the music and the secondary effects. She sends a message to Suguru to indicate that the line of models can begin their walk before returning from the runway.

The music starts with a rhythmic tempo suited to the steps the models are to take. You are the last to go, which annoys you immensely. Your supermodel status is far more valuable than that of a mere model. Every aspect of your profession is a relentless effort; so seeing these poor models advance with such banal and mediocre strides makes you want to vomit.

Did you accept this for that?

Already, you’ve had to endure disdainful looks from the other models in the group regarding your popularity. It’s quite audacious for them to act so confident when their steps resemble those of a penguin, you can’t help but ponder.

When it’s finally your turn, you waste no time.

The music resumes, and you begin your first steps with a feline grace, almost silently gliding down the runway. Your high heels strike the ground with a hypnotic regularity, syncing with the pulsing beat of the music and its rhythmic cadence: a perfect synchronization. Each step is a demonstration of confidence and control, shoulders straight, chin slightly lifted, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Each step brings a breeze that lightly lifts your hair from your face, like a halo enhancing your display worthy of a true model. At the end of the runway, you pause gracefully before turning on your heels with impeccable precision.

As you return, it’s even more captivating as you continue to walk with palpable assurance, your hips swaying slightly, capturing everyone’s attention.

Your turn finally ends, and the desired effect has certainly been achieved: everyone’s eyes have been glued to you from start to finish. You also didn’t miss Suguru’s gaze fixated on you, his lips parted in captivation. This, of course, earns you the disdainful looks of the other models in the troupe, but a triumphant smile adorns the curve of your lips.

This is what it means to be a model.

“Very well, very well! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your very pleasant and… captivating performances,” Suguru announces energetically, standing in front of his chair with his arms open towards his official troupe.

Unsurprisingly, his gaze does not leave you and remains fixed on your silhouette as you move towards the backstage, back to him.

°°°°

You knock on the door, and Suguru’s muffled voice invites you in.

For a stylist and designer as popular as he is, Suguru’s sewing workshop is… more unconventional than you would have thought.

Indeed, several spacious tables are littered with sketch sheets—some colorful—fabrics of all colors, lengths, and textures. Crafting materials are scattered here and there, cluttering the passage along with open boxes on the floor, making it nearly impossible to take a step without brushing against piles of stuff that threaten to collapse. But at least the workshop isn’t filthy and retains the same aesthetic touch you’d find in TV shows or fashion serials.

At the far end of the room, a single chair is occupied by Suguru, who is sitting with his back to you. Hearing your approach, he turns towards you, his eyes fixed on a bright yellow measuring tape and a metallic needle wedged between his teeth, with a fuchsia pink thread running through the tip.

“Come closer,” he murmurs, moving towards you with the help of the wheels on his chair.

Feeling self-conscious, you take another step closer, and when he lifts his eyes to you, it feels as if you are naked before him: less than a step away, you are wearing a delicate sport bra that barely covers your chest, dreading any shiver that might reveal hardened nipples, along with a pair of equally revealing bicycle shorts in the same color. You had insisted to Manami on a firm refusal to wear any underwear in front of Suguru, without providing a reason.

Even though he has seen far more intimate parts of your body before, the current situation with him challenges everything.

A faint blush colors your cheeks, and without a word, Suguru extends his arms, his long, slender, pale fingers wrapping the measuring tape around your waist first. You can’t gauge the meaning of his gaze. How is he reacting internally right now?

But his mischievous remark answers you the moment after, “You okay? Are you still breathing?” The sarcastic tone immediately irritates you.

“And you’re taking the opportunity to enjoy the view, aren’t you?” you retort venomously. You’re about to continue spewing your hatred towards him when his hands gently — but with some firmness — grasp your hips and make you turn around. You stifle a moan at his touch, which sends a shiver through your body and, as you feared, your nipples harden. You step away from him abruptly when his breath grazes your side. “What are you doing?” you ask sharply, your arms futilely trying to cover your chest.

Suguru sighs. “Are you done acting like a kid?” He grabs you by the elbows and forces you to turn your back to him. He wraps the measuring tape around you again. “So no, I’m not enjoying the view, I’m doing my job.” He kneels to measure your hips, and with a glance downward, you see his amused smile. “You should have refused to work with me if it bothers you so much to be measured.”

“Ah, as if I had a choice?” you retort abruptly.

“You did,” he whispers as he stands up, brushing your hair away from your back, and for a moment, his warm breath caresses your shoulders. All you want right now is for him to place a tender kiss on the side of your neck, but the resentment towards him always takes over.

“No, you know that’s not true.” Your tone is harsh as a whip. “By the way, have all the other models been through here? I saw assistants with all this gear. Why am I the only one alone with you?”

Suguru grins. “The others went through with my assistants,” he replies with a chuckle before taking your bust measurements. “You’re the first I’m measuring, and the only one.”

“What game are you playing?” you murmur after a pause.

“None.”

He continues with the rest of your measurements — bust, thighs, legs, and finally arms. During this part, he takes an unusually long time to scrutinize you, and his head tilted close to your skin makes your heart race uncontrollably.

The final straw is when his lips accidentally brush against your arm.

“Stop that,” you warn him all of a sudden, stepping back. Your furious gaze seems to want to kill Suguru on the spot, and he loses his smile.

“I—”

“Stop pretending to be clueless, Geto.”

He already knows it will be hard to win you back, especially with this reaction he had long feared. But it had to explode sooner or later.

“If you think I’ve forgotten the past, you’re deluding yourself. The jerk you were is still the same in my eyes,” you seethe.

Suguru takes a step towards you in an attempt to beg you not to avoid him as you continue to back away. He murmurs your name in a plea. “I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be, but I did all this for you. I knew you wouldn’t be able to refuse a second time with—”

“I don’t want you to try to make up for it, not after all these years. Is that really why you asked me to come back? Because I’ve reached your level of popularity? My money? My body?” Your throat tightens further, and you squint your eyes to hold back your tears. “I will never forgive you, Suguru. I’m no longer the naive girlfriend who waits like a fool for someone who didn’t give a damn about her!”

“I— It wasn’t— Please, let me explain… I still love you as much as I did before, and I know I’ve been unworthy of everything you’ve put up with for me, but—”

You bitterly laugh in his face. “Liar! You’re lying, and you always have, even when you said you loved me! Your babble about what you were and what you are now is just the typical crap an toxic ex says when they want to win someone back. Did I really have a choice to come back to you? Do you think it’s a good method?”

With those words, you turn around and walk away towards the workshop door.

Suguru’s heart screams at him to follow you and beg on his knees for you to listen, but he knows your stubborn temperament. The only words that come from his mouth after his first failure are enough for him to know you’ve heard them, even as you fling the door open and rush out.

He knows you heard him.

“You will always have a choice with me.”

°°°°

“What do you mean, ‘the camera isn’t working’?” Suguru thundered with severity.

The entire group waiting for the final shoot (including you) turns towards the back of the studio to face a visibly agitated Suguru. He is handling the camera in every direction and then turns towards you.

You’re ready, dressed in the latest collection from the luxury brand you’re working with for Suguru’s troupe’s Fashion Week. There’s no problem on your end.

So why is he talking about a camera that isn’t working?

Especially when it’s your turn?

You take a hesitant step towards him, and Manami quickly avoids your questioning gaze, stepping away from her superior.

A few other models follow you, whispering incomprehensible things not far away to your ears, but all you care about is hoping you’ve misunderstood something.

“Find me another camera,” Suguru orders, violently throwing the one he had against a wall. The sound of metal shattering on the floor startles everyone.

Manami follows him out of the studio at a brisk pace. “Wait! Mr. Geto! Did you forget that this isn’t our studio? It’s the only camera we were able to borrow!”

“SO?” Suguru retorts acridly. “She’ll be the only one not photographed while she’s the star of MY troupe?” His tone rises significantly towards Manami. But he doesn’t spare a glance at you, even as everyone listens to their conversation intently. “Don’t forget that tonight the magazines will be prepared, and we won’t be here but at Gojo’s reception!”

All the other models turn to you in unison, watching you with astonishment.

“Too bad, I’m sorry but she won’t be in it!” Manami resigns with an even tone. “We need to leave in an hour, and the reception starts then!”

“Absolutely not! Find me a fucking camera so she’s in the magazine for tomorrow!” With those final words, Suguru opens the studio door and storms out, slamming it shut behind him with a loud bang.

Silence envelops the room, and you find yourself at a loss for words, your lips sealed and your voice stuck in your throat.

Manami sighs and finally turns to you, her face showing sincere regret. “I’m sorry… I know it’s really unfair, but I think you won’t be in the promotional magazine for the brand partnering with us…”

“I—” Your face falls completely, and you look in dismay at the broken camera on the floor from a few minutes ago.

“I’m truly sorry…” Manami murmurs, lowering her head in genuine remorse.

A few hours later, you’ve resigned yourself as well. The luxury brand partnering with Suguru’s agency had lent outfits from their latest collection for advertisement in fashion magazines. The models and the brand were to be highlighted, but this preview was unfortunately ruined by the delay caused by Suguru, who couldn’t complete the photo shoot in his own studio. On the same day — at a time too close to the reception hosted by his friend-rival Satoru Gojo, a stylist of equal renown—the weather and equipment decided to turn against you.

According to Manami, the camera borrowed from a nearby photo studio was sabotaged right after photographing all the other models. So, despite your star model status, you won’t appear in the magazine coming out. The lack of time also prevented photographers, as well as Manami and Suguru, from finding another camera in time, as everything was prepared at the last minute.

Your troupe isn’t the only one participating. Those of other stylists — like Gojo, for example — will also be featured in a fashion magazine with their partner brand and all their models. The shame will fall upon you as the one not included.

And it will be a scandal — you couldn't make it up.

But Nobara has been far more helpful than you would have thought. She learned the news that evening while helping you prepare in your dressing room for Gojo’s reception and was outraged by the situation. Most of all, she was scandalized to learn that someone had attempted to sabotage your photo shoot.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Your name rolls off Satoru Gojo’s tongue as he bows respectfully and takes your hand, brushing his pink, thin lips against it.

“Likewise.”

Your raise eyebrow and small, sly smile don’t escape him, and he responds with a laugh that makes your heart flutter. Through his signature round sunglasses — Gojo’s trademark — his cerulean eyes sparkle with mischief. He gives you a wink, then releases your hand and offers you his arm. You take it without hesitation, appreciating the touch of a man like him.

The reception hall is packed with models and stylists; some are Japanese, while others come from different corners of the world, ‘passing through’ before heading back to New York. Indeed, the trip is fast approaching, and this evening is one of the last things you’ll need to face before traveling to the other side of the world.

Chandeliers light up the marble floor with tiny reflections that resemble stars. Tables lined against the walls overflow with dishes and canapés — along with chocolate fountains and desserts. Small groups are gathered in every corner of the room, and the dance floor is filled with couples or partners dancing amidst the exceptionally chic ambiance.

“I’m meeting you in the flesh,” Gojo murmurs, casting a flirtatious glance at you. This man has always had the reputation of being exceedingly handsome and tall. Today, you confirm it.

In his immaculate tuxedo, Satoru Gojo walks with you through the room, maintaining a perfect conversation without awkward pauses or questionable vibes. He is exquisite, charming: everything a woman could dream of.

“Few people get to meet you up close,” you add with a light giggle. You adjust your hold on his arm and look up at him. “I heard you’re also participating in the New York Fashion Week.”

“Indeed.” He takes a glass of champagne and hands it to you. “It would have been a pleasure to work with you, though,” he murmurs with a wry smile.

“I would have loved that.” Your gaze sweeps across the room as you take a sip of champagne. “It’s a shame I went with Mr. Geto.”

“Oh yes, Suguru. My eternal rival. I was surprised by that Twitter post. A model like you… should be among the best, and unfortunately, Suguru is one of them.”

“Do you think so, Mr. Gojo?”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you a bit closer as he stops near a table with canapés, not far from a window. “Call me Satoru,” he says, looking at you over his sunglasses and taking a mini macaron.

You pick up one as well, and Suguru’s figure passes by you, too quickly for you to understand what’s happening but close enough to notice his gaze on you and Satoru.

“Would you be interested in working on a future collection with me after Fashion Week?” Satoru asks, his attention completely focused on you.

Your blood rushes in your ears as you feel his breath on your lips and you hold back the urge to lean in and kiss him.

“With pleasure, Satoru,” you respond with a smile as playful as his.

“Perfect.” His face lights up, and he is about to say something when he is interrupted by a trio of models approaching you.

“Excuse us, Mr. Gojo,” one of them coos with a sugary voice, batting her eyelashes.

“Can this wait?” He rolls his eyes without any shame. “I’m busy.” He pulls you closer to him with a firmer, more possessive embrace.

Without wasting any time, he takes you out of the reception hall, where a few people are lingering and chatting in a slightly more intimate setting. Thick crimson velvet curtains adorn the various entrances, and Satoru leads you further in.

Your cheeks flush in reaction to the pleasant situation you’re in. Your mind even begins to compare him to Suguru...

“Have I told you how beautiful you are, especially in that dress?” Satoru whispers near your ear, his voice low and warm.

“No,” you murmur, dazed by his hand resting on your lower back, his thumb making gentle circles.

Satoru leans in and his lips brush against yours. “May I?”

You nod, aware of what’s to come as his lips slowly capture yours in a soft, needy kiss. Your lips respond immediately, and Satoru’s two hands join behind your back to guide you into a room that looks like a luxurious bedroom.

Without breaking the kiss with its wet sounds, your back meets the soft surface of a mattress, and you’re already panting. You know that with him, you won’t regret doing anything.

Satoru’s heavy breathing moves away from your pink, swollen lips to approach your bare collarbone and kiss it with those same lips. With his hand gently caressing the back of your thigh, which you lift and drape around his waist, Satoru uses his nimble fingers to slide down the thin strap of your dress. Your chest rises and falls with the sensual tension descending upon you. Your fingers help him lower your dress, first revealing your bare breasts, and a flush colors your face.

“Beautiful, sweetheart,” he purrs in your ear, taking pleasure in depositing a line of soft, affectionate kisses along your neck and down to your chest. Satoru stretches his lips into a smile against your skin and lightly touches the swell of your breasts. He takes one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.

A moan escapes you, and you arch your hips to rub against him desperately. His bulge becomes more prominent and presses against your own underwear, adding friction that makes your core sensitive. “Satoru…” you pant softly, stroking his snow-white hair as he lavishes your breasts with wet kisses. “More…”

He grins and returns to your lips, whispering “Adorable…” while sliding your dress down further.

But the door to the room suddenly opens, revealing a frozen Suguru standing before the scene. You and Satoru immediately turn your heads toward the intruder and pull away from each other abruptly.

But it’s already too late, as neither of you have time to say a word before Suguru turns and leaves as quickly as he arrived, his face as pale as a sheet.

An unusual pang tightens in your chest, and you sit up from the bed, overwhelmed by a sense of guilt. But why? Why feel this way?

You sigh, and Satoru shakes his head. “He won’t say anything,” he reassures you, reaching out a hand to stroke your cheek.

You don’t push him away, but he understands that you wouldn’t want to go any further with him tonight.

°°°°

“Here… Lift your chin…” Suguru takes a photo with a sharp click. “Perfect…” he murmurs to himself, his tone filled with admiration.

Sitting on the floor of Suguru’s photography studio in yet another outfit from the luxury brand partner, you give him a profile shot, your chin lifted in a dreamlike expression of devotion. For another photo, you lie on your side, your eyes fixed directly on the lens.

Suguru, for his part, doesn’t hesitate to give his best effort to capture the most beautiful photos he’s ever taken in his career. He insisted on handling it personally — despite what happened less than two days ago at Satoru’s reception. He even came up with an idea to make up for the consequences of his delay with the magazine published for all the participating Fashion Week troupes in New York. The scandal over your absence, despite being one of the featured models, had shaken most social media, and indeed, enough for Suguru to come up with a plan that would do justice to you.

What better way than to discuss with the luxury brand partner to release an entire magazine featuring you as the sole model? You would showcase the clothes that weren’t worn due to the lack of time. The success and attention would be all focused on you — spotlights fixed on you.

Because you deserve it.

No matter how long it takes Suguru.

He vowed to do everything to make amends.

So that’s why you find yourself alone in the studio with him, posing in outfits that shake him so much that he’s suggested taking a break twice to calm his trembling hands.

Two days later, the magazine is finally out, with you as the star, once again shaking up social media and causing a wave of appreciation from fans. At your finest, every page shows only you.

You, the heart’s desire of Suguru Geto.

“Have you seen the reactions?” Suguru asks as he approaches you while you’re busy admiring the sky and the skyscrapers from one of the agency’s balconies. Suguru slides the glass door closed and joins you. “Am I bothering you?”

You sigh.

“Come on, at least thank me for doing such a good job. You look stunning in all the photos.” He has a smirk and nudges you in the ribs as he leans his forearms on the glass railing. “And you always have been.”

You give a subtle smile but don’t immediately respond. You leave a small silence between the two of you. For the first time in years, Suguru’s presence doesn’t bother you as much.

“Thanks, I suppose,” you murmur. Without looking at him, you continue, “It’s nice of you to do this.”

“I did it for you,” Suguru breathes, his heart tight.

You nod. Lately, it feels like you don’t quite know how to react. All these compliments, the fact that he hasn’t changed his behavior after catching you with Satoru (he’s even become even more gentle)... It’s a lot to take in.

You eventually clear your throat. “Well, I think—”

“Wait.” He turns his head toward you. “Please.”

The note of pleading is the only detail that brings your feet back to the railing.

He lets a light silence linger, not saying a word. A breeze brushes both your faces, like cool water on a tired face.

Perhaps it’s this that makes Suguru speak up, saying your name.

“You’ve become someone since then,” he whispers with a faint smile. “I’m proud of you.” And oh, how you wish you could erase the blush spreading across your cheeks! “I don’t want to pretend like nothing happened anymore.” He turns fully toward you, the wind whipping his long raven hair and his obsidian eyes scrutinizing you. “I haven’t forgotten you. I’ve never forgotten you, actually.”

His sudden declaration catches you off guard. Why is he saying this? You already knew it. And your behavior towards him gives an unspoken response. You simply turn your head towards him without moving your body, with a forced nonchalance. He mustn’t see what he still evokes in you after all these years.

“Not a single day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you. I know I hurt you, and coming back now is probably not the best way — especially after I pushed you away.” He takes a step towards you. “And I want to win you back.” You prepare to retort, eyes narrowing, but he cuts you off immediately. “I know. And it’s not because you’ve become a famous model. Far from it.”

He repeats your name once again.

But this time, his tone is different.

His voice returns to what it was so long ago. The voice he used to whisper in your ear in bed, when you were standing in a supermarket line, and on the phone.

The thorny brambles of your heart wrap painfully around you, reminding you of what he became later.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Your lips press together, and you start to pull away from the glass railing.

“Give me a second chance, I—”

“No. There’s no point.”

Your steps move closer to the glass door, but Suguru grabs your hand.

“Please, let me at least explain—”

And your hand tears away from his grasp with an insensitivity hidden beneath its opposite in your heart. “We were perfect, Geto. Incredibly perfect. But now, I really wonder if you ever truly loved me,” you admit without any warmth.

“I did, and I still—”

“No. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been increasingly distant, avoiding our dates as your career took up more and more of your life.” You take a trembling breath meant to chase away the tears from your eyes, but it’s in vain. Your voice quivers. “At least you didn’t give up on your dreams for someone. Even less for love. And for a love that only brought you pain after it left you…”

“Love,” Suguru pleads in a heart-wrenching whisper. He takes another step towards you, arms outstretched, but you shake your head.

“But at least, I can thank you for what I’ve become today. I’ve become the person that little me always dreamed of being. Thanks to your departure from my life.”

The words slap and scratch him violently.

You turn on your heels and open the glass door, casting one last glance back at him, tears streaming down your face, smearing your mascara.

“So don’t ruin it all.”

°°°°

As scheduled, the private jet successfully dropped Suguru’s entire troupe at a New York airport less than a week before Fashion Week, where a luxurious van awaited your arrival. As soon as you stepped inside, fuchsia purple LEDs assaulted your eyes, and a multitude of leather seats were lined against the vehicle’s walls. At the very back, there was a mini-bar stocked with alcoholic beverages and spaces near the seats featuring multifunctional drawers: a retractable coffee machine, a selection of accessories and makeup products, as well as blankets, sleep masks, and other handy items. Near the driver, who greeted the troupe with a nod, a tablet fixed to the wall allowed you to change the background music at will.

Without delay, everyone rushed to the seats and chatted merrily over drinks and snacks as the journey finally began. All the models’ assistants were allowed to join the trip, which meant you found yourself laughing with Nobara about the different shades of blush provided in one of the drawers.

She took out her phone and suggested doing an Instagram story, which you accepted without hesitation. You were soon joined by the others, and a group photo was taken by Suguru. To your great surprise, you participated with a small pose. It was also posted on Suguru’s agency’s Instagram, and Nobara quickly showed you the reactions. For the past three weeks, she has almost been gushing on your behalf over the wave of positive responses you received following your appearance in the latest leading fashion magazine in the United States — even despite the success that Satoru Gojo’s own troupe has also enjoyed.

But it has also been three weeks since you last spoke to Suguru following your conversation with him. Throughout the journey to the hotel — where you will stay with your troupe for the rest of Fashion Week until its end — you couldn’t help but have unintentional eye contact. Fortunately for you, he didn’t make any attempts, and somehow, you would have liked to have Suguru in your life once more — just one last time.

But your bitter past with him still haunts your dreams, so that’s out of the question.

A few hours later, the van drops the troupe off in front of the famous hotel, but to everyone’s great surprise, a crowd is packed around the entrance. Security is pushing back some people protesting that they’ve been queuing for hours, and Suguru steps outside to observe what’s happening.

“They were right. The hotel is packed.” Of course, all due to Fashion Week taking place just a few kilometers away. Celebrities, high society, and tourists alike, the gigantic hotel promises not to be easy for the model troupe and Suguru himself. He signals the driver, who contacts security agents and bodyguards via his walkie-talkie to approach the van so that the troupe can either queue or simply navigate through the crowd.

So, with further delays and heightened security, a decision was made regarding the group: it was divided into several smaller groups so everyone could pass without issues. Some models have already gone to the reception and are enjoying their rooms, while you find yourself paired with…

…Suguru.

And last in line.

Neither of you speaks a word, and you are engrossed in your phone, trying your best to ignore him. On the other side, your assistant with ginger hair, Nobara, has asked if it bothers you that she takes a trip to do some shopping in New York— a rare opportunity for the young woman. How could you refuse her? How could you say that you don’t want to be alone with Suguru, even if it’s for the sake of organization? Being stuck in a line with him is uncomfortable?

You finally sigh in relief when your turn comes after forty minutes of waiting while other customers check in.

Bodyguards step aside, both of your luggage in their arms, waiting for a word from you.

The receptionist clears her throat and squints at the screen of his computer. “I apologize, but... I think there’s a reservation issue with your rooms.”

“What do you mean?” Suguru and you ask in unison.

“Um... There’s only one room reserved for both of you.”

The response hits your ears like thunder. You blink, the embarrassment of the situation rising to your cheeks. You don’t even dare to glance at Suguru. “Then book me another room,” you request in a measured tone.

The receptionist discreetly elbows her colleague, who looks up at you. “I— Miss, you are the last guest with Mr. Geto for the coming weeks, and there are no more rooms available…”

For the next five minutes, you try every possible way to avoid being alone in a single room with Suguru. But it’s in vain, as you end up in the infamous room with the receptionists offering a myriad of apologies, blaming their oversight regarding the reservation.

In the room, you stand, boiling with anger as the bodyguards set down your luggage and leave. One of the women tries to divert your attention from your ready-to-explode gaze by pointing out an undisturbed sofa — of course — where one of you might sleep.

But a single glance is enough to see that even your own feet wouldn’t rest on it. The receptionists leave the room in their little heels, and you sit on the firm sofa. You grimace and massage your temples while Suguru has not said a word since entering the room.

He takes a few steps towards the bed and places a hand on the mattress, so soft and comfortable that his fingers almost sink into it. “You can take the bed if you want,” Suguru offers with a calm and kindness that makes you grit your teeth. “I can take the sofa.”

Your body is in such turmoil that if you stay one more second in the room with him, you might explode — literally. So, you don’t respond and rush to your luggage, driven by the need for space. You pull out some comfortable clothes and retreat to the bathroom.

A small sigh of exasperation from the main room still reaches your ears.

You lock yourself in and collapse on the floor, groaning with frustration.

Damn it.

Why does this only happen to you?

If a shower seems to have calmed your nerves a bit, you would have preferred not to have decided to shower right away because, barely dressed in a loose t-shirt and pajama shorts, hotel staff members are gathered around the sofa and start carrying it out of the room.

In shock at the realization of the situation, you call out to them. “Hey! We need that sofa!”

One of them turns his head towards you nonchalantly. “There’s been another reservation issue. We need this sofa for others in a much more urgent situation than yours, miss.” He adjusts his hat as a gesture of apology and leaves the room as if nothing happened, taking with him the only thing that provided a slim chance of escape — however slim — to avoid Suguru.

Suguru stands there, arms hanging, too stunned by what’s happening to react. He blinks several times without saying a word.

This is all just a nightmare.

°°°°

“I’m not going to break my back sleeping on the floor, and neither will you. Or is that what you want?” Suguru nearly barks as he slips under the covers.

“There’s no way I’m sharing a bed with you!” you retort in the same tone, arms crossed over your chest.

“Stop being so prissy for two minutes, will you? It’s not like we haven’t done this thousands of times before.” He rolls his eyes and finally lies down.

The comment hits your chest like a sharp arrow. The already horrifically awkward situation combined with Suguru’s reasonable demeanor, which only seems to make things worse, makes you look simply ridiculous for not cooperating out of pride.

So, you find yourself under the covers, forcing as much space as possible between you and Suguru, trying to stay as far away as you can. Both of you have turned your backs to each other, nerves too frayed to say anything without igniting yet another argument.

But Suguru closes his eyes with a smile on his lips that night, noting in the back of his mind to thank Nobara as soon as he has the chance for agreeing to his ridiculous plan of deliberately booking a single room for both of you.

°°°°

That night, your sleep is much more restless than usual. You have sleep troubles, but this night they seem to intensify despite your peaceful breathing, which Suguru uses as a lullaby to fall asleep. You toss and turn from time to time, with your leg carelessly hanging out of the bed or an arm too close to him. A dangerous position where you might easily slip off and fall.

When Suguru feels the sheets pulling away from him as he’s about to fall asleep, he turns around and catches you just before you fall. With a pounding heart, he pulls you a little closer to him and finally lets you go.

Unaware in your sleep, you roll towards him and your fingers cling almost desperately to his t-shirt. He freezes and doesn’t dare move, hoping you won’t wake up so he can extricate himself from the embrace you’ve claimed. Your arms drape around his shoulders and your legs seek to wrap around him like a koala.

“Sugu…” you murmur in your sleep. Your face contorts into a small frown.

His nickname is a purr to him. He’s tempted to push you away, but your slight frown, seeking comfort, makes him relent, and he holds you completely in his arms. Your nose nestles into the crook of his neck and you hum before letting out a small snore.

Maybe Suguru is dreaming — amidst the dim light of the room and your two blurred bodies. Nevertheless, he rocks you gently in his arms, holding the most precious thing to him close.

°°°°

Your dream continues where you’re alone, nestled in your bed — yes, it must be that. Finding yourself in the same bed as your ex is just a nightmare.

Or maybe a dream.

Warm, sweet whispers envelop you in a comforting embrace.

“Forgive me, love. I’m sorry… I love you so much.”

These distant words soothe you enough when your sleep is half-awake, with Suguru’s body and voice surrounding you. You should push him away, but everything around you feels so dreamlike. So why not give in for once when you can’t in real life? After all, it’s just a dream for one night.

Nothing can happen to you.

Especially at a moment when your heart wants to accept these pleading whispers of forgiveness that will probably never happen in real life.

°°°°

A warm ray of sunlight tickles your cheek, and you hum as you bury your head against something firm and comfortable that envelops you. Arms rub your back, and you smile, deciding to give in to the warm embrace. Something places a gentle kiss on your temple, encouraging you to stay in bed a little longer.

Before a knock at the door jolts you from your comfort.

Nobara’s voice is heard from the other side. “Are you awake?” she asks out loud. “Almost everyone is already ready!”

You open your eyes at the same time as Suguru, and your noses almost touch. It’s a close call not to scream and almost jump out of your spot. Dazed and still groggy from sleep, neither of you says a word, only muttering a few curses about the alarm not going off.

You rush to do your makeup and put on your outfit, as by 11 a.m., at the very place where the last preparations for the show will be made, hundreds of fans, journalists, and paparazzi will be lined up behind barriers or security ropes, shouting for autographs or even a smile. So there’s no time to waste; you need to cover your tomato-red complexion with foundation.

Downstairs in the hotel, the rest of the crew is waiting for both of you, and others arrive at the last minute — some even with their poodles. To your great relief, no one seems to suspect anything about Suguru, whom you carefully avoid even after arriving at the Fashion Week preparation area.

As you step out of the black sedan, piercing fan screams ring out, eagerly waiting for you to approach them: banners with names written in capital letters, notebooks, and hands outstretched almost desperately.

On the red carpet and under the bright morning sun, female fans call out your name, and you turn with a smile to approach them behind the security barrier. You spend about ten minutes taking selfies and signing autographs with the rest of the crew until one girl, after you’ve signed her autograph, speaks to you again. “It’s incredible that you’re working with Suguru Geto! I never thought I’d see this day, so I’ll be here to watch you walk the runway!” she exclaims with stars in her eyes.

Your smile freezes at the mention of Suguru, as you’re constantly reminded that no one but you and Suguru know what happened between you two. You swallow and regain your composure. “Oh, honey, you’re adorable. I’m glad you’re coming. I hope we’ll run into each other again.” You then give her a final wink and rejoin your group.

Nobara catches up with you a few minutes later in your dressing room with a smile and quietly closes the door. You collapse onto a couch and sigh, hiding your face in your hands.

°°°°

“You’ve measured me before.”

“I lost them.”

“Liar.”

Suguru lets out a small laugh and grabs his measuring tape before approaching you. “It’s just my job, love.”

“You’re playing around,” you accuse with a pout, and he kneels in front of you to measure your legs and waist.

His movements are precise, slow, meticulous, and attentive. Even his gaze doesn’t fall inappropriately on you, a look of respect filling his entire being, guiding him gently with that eternal mischievous smile that reminds you of Satoru’s.

“Don’t give me that pout, now,” Suguru whispers as he stands up with a sigh.

Today, he’s wearing a simple white shirt under a pair of black pants and a matching blazer — perfectly tailored, of course. An unfair perfection. Among all the exes you could have had in your life, it had to be Suguru Geto—the man with a beauty almost impossible to rival, and who clearly shows a refusal to let you go. And the worst is the still-fresh memory from the night before with the image of a half-asleep Suguru against you — you in his arms. If you loathe yourself for what happened, why does his embrace comfort you so much? If you truly hate Suguru, why do you show such weak resistance to both his gentlemanly behavior and his irresistible charm?

“And there we go,” Suguru announces softly with his notepad in hand. “Lovely as always,” he adds with his eternal smile. “Hey!” You punch him in the bicep, and he steps back, laughing.

“Don’t mess with me,” you grumble, still pouting.

When was the last time this kind of situation happened?

When you two were still together.

And is forgiving him a good idea after all?

“I wasn’t messing with you, love,” Suguru replies quietly. He locks his eyes with yours to capture all your attention. “You’ve always been beautiful. And that will never change, even if you turn into a slug.” He grins at your comical look of disgust.

"A slug? You’d still choose me even if I were a slug?" you repeat, not convinced at all by his promises.

Suguru scoffs and moves closer, facing you directly. “No matter what you are in any lifetime, it will always be you that I choose, again and again.” He slowly lifts his hand and places it on your cheek. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, and your guard weakens. His words, spoken with sincere tone, float like clouds in the dressing room-turned-sewing workshop.

You remain as vulnerable with Suguru Geto — despite years of building a fortress to avoid falling back into the state you were in years ago. Yet, you are in a massive denial, giving a semblance of change in your life. You haven’t erased all feelings for Suguru. You’ve simply buried them in a corner of your heart and forgotten where—neglecting the risk they might resurface someday.

You look up at him, your lower lip trembling. “Then why didn’t you in this one?”

The question seems to catch him off guard, as his lips part and an equally vulnerable look appears on his face. He’s about to respond when someone knocks on the door.

“Mr. Geto? Are you finished?” Manami’s voice calls from the other side, sounding slightly concerned.

You both immediately step away from each other, and the tension between you dissipates, replaced by the usual coldness.

Suguru clears his throat, runs a tired hand over his face, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Uh, yeah, yeah. You can come in, Manami.”

°°°°

Less than two hours before the main moment, you are practicing breathing exercises to calm the stress of a runway show. You’re wearing one of the luxurious outfits designed by Suguru himself, and if that alone isn’t overwhelming enough, an invisible vise is tightening around your chest, making your breathing heavy and your lungs congested.

You grimace at the sensation and groan as your heart beats more erratically than expected, and tremors run through your limbs. You can’t have a panic attack now.

No.

Not when Nobara isn’t by your side to help you relax.

Staying locked in a stuffy dressing room won’t help, but the very idea of stepping outside paralyzes you. You need to wait patiently for the makeup artists to finalize your look, and it only makes you more impatient and on edge.

Someone knocks at your door and asks to enter.

Suguru.

You open your mouth to utter even a sound, but anxiety wraps around your throat and chokes you. You gasp for air, your hands sweaty and cold, slipping from the back of the chair you’re clinging to, and you collapse to the floor.

The noise is enough for the door to burst open, and Suguru rushes in, dropping to one knee and taking you into his arms.

“Love, what’s happening?” Suguru murmurs as you cling to him as if your life depends on it.

The panic attack gradually overwhelms you, and you start crying in front of him. Thank God your face is only covered with skincare, but tears are streaming down your cheeks, mingling with your grimace and your difficulty breathing.

“I…” Then a hiccup takes over. You try to inhale, but as soon as your lungs fill, the air cuts off and doesn’t pass through. You keep trying, but all you manage is to cry without stopping.

Suguru frowns. “You… Wait.” He slides one arm under your knees and back to lift you easily and place you on a sofa. “It’s going to be okay, my love… Everything will be fine… Do the same thing I do.”

You sniffle and wipe your eyes to prevent the blurred vision from making it even harder to see Suguru helping you. He places his hand on his chest and does the same for you. “I’ll count to three and you breathe in very slowly, okay? Same for exhaling,” he murmurs with all tenderness and patience. His chest rises slowly in sync after he counts to three. The air flows more smoothly now. Encouraged by this, he smiles and holds his breath. He nods for you to do the same, intertwining your fingers with his and exhaling at the same slow pace. The icy air leaves your lungs at the same time as your racing heartbeats.

For the next five minutes, a silence punctuated by controlled, rhythmic breathing fills the dressing room. You eventually manage to regain a normal breath and quell your panic attack, leaving only a few residual hiccups.

Suguru leans toward you and kisses your sweaty forehead. With your still-trembling arms, you grip his to keep him close and draw him against you, the tip of his nose brushing against your neck. The unexpected action makes him freeze, and up close, you can see goosebumps spreading over his skin. With hesitant movements towards each other, you both hold each other gently in a comforting embrace.

“Suguru…” you whisper, your voice hoarse from the recent panic attack. You take the opportunity to bury your head in the crook of his neck.

He immediately welcomes your touch and affectionately kisses your cheek. “I love you, love. Do you feel better?”

His affirmation reaches your heart so strongly that, once again, tears well up and you force yourself to blink them away. Suguru notices and a worried crease forms between his eyebrows. For a moment, his chest against yours allows you to feel his racing heart. “You—”

“I’m better,” you interrupt weakly. “Thank you…”

He sighs in relief and gently caresses your hair absentmindedly. His fingers weave skillfully through your strands, bringing back a memory that hits you hard: him comforting you for various reasons when you were together, that same hand resting and caressing the same spot on your head. So for once in years, you let yourself indulge in this nostalgic feeling without pushing it away.

However, you can’t prevent a burning question from crossing your lips. “You love me?”

Suguru reacts immediately. He carefully pulls away from you and helps you sit up on the sofa, wiping the dried tears from your beautiful cheeks. He smiles at your flushed face and bloodshot eyes. “Of course I love you. I’ve told you. I’m sorry, and even if you don’t accept it, I’ll do everything to make you forgive me.” He kneels in front of you. “I didn’t want to break up with you because it would have broken my heart, so when I saw that my career was starting to affect our relationship and I couldn’t take care of you as you deserved, I thought it would hurt less if I let you detach from me.” His shoulders shake with a sigh. “Forgive me, my love. I want to make amends and—”

“But why a second chance when the first one didn’t work?”

“Because we’re too stubborn, love.”

His words, spoken with such sincerity, reach your heart directly.

You take his face in your hands and press your lips against his. Suguru gasps slightly in surprise but quickly follows your lead, his hesitant hands sliding to your waist to deepen the contact.

Fuck.

How he missed you…

With every kiss, you reclaim Suguru’s lips as if one moment without them would take away your life. They are so soft and warm, as alluring as they are addictive, making it almost impossible for your body to pull away from him. It’s only when you feel that time seems to be passing a bit too quickly that you finally pull away from him.

“I…” A semi-horrified expression pulls at your face as you’ve just initiated a kiss with your ex—the one you’ve been avoiding for months. You shake your head and back away, stammering, “Sorry… That was a mistake, I—”

Suguru utters your name in a pleading tone. “Please… I’m begging you. Give me another chance. I only need one word. One word, and I’ll stay. One word, and I’ll leave and never come back to your life.”

“You…” If you’ve never been short of sharp retorts for Suguru, today is a new experience.

One word from you, and Suguru will accept your choice. For any other ex you might have had, you wouldn’t have even attempted to participate or do anything that involved them. But with Suguru…

“S-Stay…” you murmur in a broken voice, almost throwing yourself into his arms. He wraps you in his embrace and rocks you, his breath quick. “Stay, Suguru…” You break down, tears returning with a vengeance, flooding your face.

“I love you, sweetheart. Forgive me…” And he continues to repeat these words until someone else knocks on the door.

He prepares to pull away, but you hold him back, not wanting him to leave you once more. With a swift move, he crouches and rests his forehead against yours. “I have to go. You’re going to do great. I have no doubt, and you have no reason not to, understood?” His breath, as warm as his hands around your head, brushes your nose, and you sniffle one last time, nodding. “You’ll be perfect. I’ll watch and wait for you at the show. You’re going to shine.”

°°°°

The lights in the hall dim, plunging the audience into darkness. A bright spotlight illuminates the runway as the music begins to resonate throughout the fashion studio, amplified by the speakers.

“Here we go… In three… two… one…” Manami makes a frantic arm gesture to signal the lineup of models to step onto the runway.

The first model makes her entrance, wearing a spectacular outfit that instantly captivates the audience, with audible “oooohs!” reaching even backstage where you await your turn with a suffocating pressure. You are among the last to walk, but the distinct sound of heels clicking in rhythm with your heartbeat still reaches your ears.

But there is no room for panic now that you no longer carry the weight of your past relationship with Suguru.

He will be there to admire and reassure you from afar.

Manami gives a final signal and your lineup thins, giving you the space needed to step onto the stage.

The outfits parade down the runway, each one more impressive than the last. The theme of the collection is clear: dark silhouettes adorned with sequins and stars, reminiscent of a starry night sky. Your own outfit, the centerpiece of the collection, is bound to captivate the awed spectators. The black, sparkling dress catches the light with every step, creating an illusion of a moving firmament. Murmurs of admiration fill the room first, followed by camera clicks and cheers as you appear at the first quarter of the runway.

Taking a deep breath, your heels glide as elegantly as ever down the runway. One foot in front of the other, the sole firmly planted but almost silently advancing on the runway, chin up, and a neutral expression on your face; if anyone had never heard of your modeling career, your impression answers immediately.

Your hips sway slightly from side to side in the same entrancing rhythm as the powerful beat of the music, giving an unmatched grace to your walk. Reaching the end of the runway, your gaze falls on the front row where recognizable men have their eyes fixed on you, feeling the palpable energy of the room.

The scene lasts only a second, but it feels like an eternity.

Satoru Gojo, with a smirk, hands in the pockets of his dark stylist suit, stands with his legs spread in a posture highly unflattering for a personality like his. But then again, he exudes a carefree attitude, so who would be shocked? You manage to keep your mouth from stretching into a smile thanks to Suguru Geto, whose eyes are glued to you. His obsidian irises shine with admiration, professionalism, and also pride. He gives you a knowing wink that sends a warm, pleasant wave through every corner of your abdomen.

You snap out of your trance and pause, striking an elegant pose under the camera flashes before gracefully turning around. The shimmering fabric of your dress captures the lights with every movement, creating a shower of stars around you.

As you return backstage, the music shifts, signaling the grand finale. The crowd is buzzing, applauding enthusiastically as the spotlights sweep across the stage to accentuate the dramatic effect of the starry collection. The show comes to an end several minutes later, and you notice the applause intensifying. Suguru seems to have taken the stage and begun speaking — his voice reaching every ear — and you listen intently near your pairs.

“Thank you all for coming tonight. This collection has been a true labor of love, and I am honored to share it with you. Thank you also to all the wonderful people who made this possible, especially our incredible models,” Suguru declares, a wave of shared pride resonating through his speech.

The applause erupts once more, louder than ever.

°°°°

“Really?” you murmur softly, the tone as warm as Suguru’s hand on your hip. “If I did so well in the show, don’t I deserve a reward?”

He kneels in front of you, sliding his large hands along your thighs. “So beautiful, so magnificent…” Suguru continues to whisper as if in a prayer. “I love you… Ruin me… Use me and hurt me, love…” he pleads before placing a long, sweet kiss on your inner thigh.

The effect sends waves of goosebumps across your body, and desire burns in your eyes as you lower them to your desperate lover.

What better place to want to fuck your ex than during a festive reception hosted by Satoru Gojo, in one of the luxurious corridors of his many mansions? The same heavy, thick, velvet burgundy curtains brush against your back as he nuzzles between your legs like a little boy.

The gesture might seem funny and cute, but not when he slides his head under your evening dress and presses his nose against your panties. You gasp in surprise and place your hands on his head. “Sugu… Not here…” you whisper, alarmed.

He grumbles like a displeased child, the vibration of his voice against your core increasing your sensitivity. “You— Ah…” you moan as he plants a kiss on your already swollen clit.

“I love you, sweetheart… I love you so much…” Suguru keeps repeating these words that make you melt. He shifts your underwear with his index finger, finally gaining access to your core. He starts with a chaste kiss on your damp folds and hums in contentment, as he catches the first drop of your juices. “Tastes s’good, baby…”

Your moans intensify under his agile tongue as it licks and laps at your swollen, wet folds. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, forcing you to gasp. “Suguru…” You groan as he focuses on your throbbing bundle of nerves this time. He gently sucks on it, coaxing more juices from you, and this has the effect of drawing whimpers from your lips. If you were already struggling like mad to keep quiet, Suguru always loves to tease you and he gently inserts a finger into you. Your walls clench around it as if afraid he might pull it out. Unfortunately, pleasure comes far too quickly. With only a few long, slow thrusts inside you, your fingers find their way into his dark strands. “I’m going to—”

“Cum for me, my love,” he murmurs between flicks of his tongue.

You pray that no one can see or hear you, letting the knot in your stomach that was holding back your orgasm finally release. It bursts onto Suguru’s mouth, who doesn’t waste a single second in collecting your juices until the last drop, all while you moan in pleasure.

He finally pulls his hands and head from under your dress, panting in the same ragged rhythm as you, a satisfied smile on his lips. “I love you,” he murmurs for the umpteenth time.

A slightly exhausted smile from the intense sensation lights up your face, and before you can even respond, Suguru scoops you into his arms and nearly runs to one of the luxurious bedrooms in the Gojo mansion.

He locks the door and gently lays you on the mattress. Within seconds, you take charge, removing Suguru’s pants and teasing his bulge with the tips of your fingers. You smile mischievously and giggle.

Suguru shivers at your touch and props himself up on his elbows, weak as he is for you. “Sweetheart—” But you catch him off guard by pulling down his boxer, exposing his twitching erection. “Oh God…” He almost rolls his eyes as your hand administers a few gentle strokes. “I love you… I love you… I love you… I love you…” he repeats in a plea in the dim light of the room.

Your fingers wrap around his base as you lower your head just to kiss his sensitive, reddened tip. “What, baby? Is it too much for you? You’re already so hard f’me…” And he doesn’t have time to protest as you go slowly, for he might not last. He smiles slyly as you lick the bead of pre-cum that escapes his length.

“Damn, princess… I’m not gonna last…” he hisses, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. He lets out a sigh, his muscles tensing under your hands. You run a thick band with the flat of your tongue along his dick, and he grits his teeth. “Tease…”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? Let’s see about that…” Your lips part around him, taking him fully into your mouth. As soon as his tip hits the back of your throat, he lets out a groan. “Sorry…”

Your hands slip to graze his balls and caress his thighs. With a motion of your head, you suck him, your tongue swirling around his tip and veins. “Love, I—” And with a twitch of his cock, he signals that he’s about to cum. He shudders and groans, moaning your name. His cheeks flush, and you take the opportunity to tease him. He gives in and lets his release paint your mouth white. Without wasting any time, you swallow the warm substance and pull his cock from your mouth, a string of saliva mixed with his cum linking your lips to him.. The sight of your lover in a messy, submissive state sends a shiver down your own spine.

He regains his breath, rising onto his knees, unuttons his white shirt, and tosses it into a corner at the foot of the bed. Suguru’s hands settle on your hips, pulling at the fabric to undress you completely. Your panties are just as damp as when he ate you out. Your bra quickly joins his discarded clothing, and he seals his lips with yours as if it’s the last thing he needs to do in his life. He gently flips you onto your back on the bed.

Your hands move sensually across his chest to settle on his shoulders, maintaining a grip, while Suguru’s hands grasp the back of your thighs and slowly detach his lips to press them against the side of your neck where your pulse races. He marks a hickey in that exact spot and revels in the moan you produce.

“Suguru, please… I need you…” you plead into his ear, you aching clit grazing his hard cock, and he clenches his jaw to avoid holding you too tightly in his arms. Hasn’t he dreamed for years of having you like this, in his arms, begging him to please you?

“Anthing for my princess,” he coos, his lips curling. Gently, he wraps your legs around his waist and maintains eye contact with you. One of his hands grabs his dick and teases your needy cunt with the tip to collect droplets of your wetness. “Still so wet?” Then your blush is enough to make him burst into laughter. You pout, and he purrs. “Awww… I’m going to give you what you want…”

With utmost care, his tip parts your folds and slowly pushes into you, finding its way deep inside your hot, dripping pussy. Breathing between his teeth, Suguru closes his eyes for a moment and hisses. “Damn, you’re so fucking tight…” He pants for a few seconds before resuming his movements as you moan for him to go further. “Fuck, princess… taking me so well… Like you were made for me since start…”

“Suguru…” You moan, your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders. The pressure his cock exerts makes it hard for your pussy not to react and tighten with each of his slow thrusts as you adjust. “That’s IT, my love… You’re doing so well…” He whispers in your ear. His hands grip your hips, helping you find the right space for both of you as he sinks into you, your pretty walls clenching around him deliciously. He lets out a whimper of your name and hits that sweet spot deep inside, making you twitch beneath him.

"Again… Please… Sugu—” But another sound of pleasure escapes you as he slowly increases his pace inside you. His length twitches between your gummy, tight walls. “So deep… So good…” you murmur with a pleasure-filled wince. “I love you… I love you…”

Words hit Suguru like a punch to the stomach, and he almost has tears in his eyes. He doesn’t stop bucking his hips into you and nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck. “Baby…” you whisper, your fingers tangled in his hair, pleasure all for you now. He nods, and his hand snakes to your clit, rubbing it in circles. “Suguru… I’m close…” you squeal as he continues to pound into you until you see stars and your cunt contracts around his length, your toes curling.

His seed paints your walls white, a warm, gentle sensation spreading through your lower abdomen, Suguru groaning into your neck, his teeth biting into the flesh of your trapezius. He slightly lifts his head, panting heavily, and presses his lips to your ear. “I don’t want to see you on anyone else’s arm, okay? Not even Satoru.”

You nod and giggle, trying to catch your breath, your eyelids closed and exhausted from the aftermath of intense pleasure. “Jealous, hmm?”

“Yes. And very possessive, love,” he affirms in a strained voice. “Will you forgive me?” he adds with a glimmer of doubt in his eyes. He withdraws from you and lies down beside you, attentive to any signs of discomfort.

“For a long time, Suguru,” you affirm, yawning.

“Oh.” He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Can I ask since when?”

“Since the hotel.”

Suguru buries his head between your bare breasts and closes his eyes with a sigh. “I see. I owe that to Nobara. What do you think would make her happy?” he asks in a casual tone.

Suddenly, it’s like gears are turning in your brain, and your fingers, which were caressing his hair moments ago, freeze.

“WHAT?”

And Suguru’s laughter echoes throughout the room.

★ a/n: finally! i'm relieved that i've finished this fic (promised from far months now...) well, i hope you'll enjoy it! <3

★ tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @alwaysfreakingout @mutsu422 @lymsfm

[3liza]

I feel very defensive about the "goth is bougie" shit because it is historically incorrect, yes, but also and more personally, because it just erases the generations of goth kids who grew up in trailer parks and project housing or just straight up homeless, helping each other out.

it's specifically such a supportive subculture for poor and neglected kids and I really fucking hate that this has been revised and erased. juggalos and goths are very culturally close and many subcultural people are both, and juggalos have the same (and, I would argue, even better defined) culture of collective support. the Skids in Letterkenny are not made up for the show, that's just a real type of rural subcultural person. this has also been forgotten in the interim but in the 90s and 00s we didn't even really refer to OURSELVES as "goths" very much except in a joking way. goths had regional endonyms (like "skids" or "trenchies") even if they could all go to a convention or a club in a city and in that context be all called "goths" together, once they went back home they would go back to being whatever the locals called them or whatever they called themselves. this is a whole linguistics and sociology subtopic that's out of scope for a Tumblr post but is sort of related.

my point is that people who wore actual rags, and sharpie instead of nail polish, and wet n wild eyeliner instead of black lipstick, and dyed their hair with markers or food coloring or kool-aid, were and are the core of the goth scene. the majority of the pictures the mallgoth blogs are posting are from catalogs, fashion shows, costume events, yearly balls and fetes like Wave Gothik Treffen, and other places where people save up literally all year, or many years in a row, to put together ONE outfit. and there's nothing wrong with that, personally I'm proud and pleased that our hard work is being recognized and preserved. but just like formal studio photographs from the Victorian era, it is not representative of the daily or even weekly (for clubs) reality of people in the scene, some of whom were completely out of goth clothing during the day or week just to fit in at work or sometimes just to get along without being bothered at home by family members who thought the Cure was Satanic.

the people who RUN the scenes, the promoters and DJs and gogo dancers and independent designers and people who run the mailing lists and websites, the people who organize the room parties at conventions, and yes even most of the original Burning Man camps like Thunderdome, they mostly live in poverty. especially if they're young. when people organize club nights and shows, they're lucky if they break even. I wasn't aware of any of this until I started working at DNA Lounge in San Francisco, which hosts one of the oldest goth nights in the country, Death Guild. I got to know the owner of DNA well enough to find out about the financial reality of the entire scene, even the people who own the means of production and the actual property in this case, and it's not lucrative. I mean, it sometimes is, if you're running a bar for normal people and have investment captain etc, but the majority of legit subculture economics is just barely breaking even. every single event is 90% volunteer labor.

the issue of labor is maybe the confusing thing for the zoomers who are confused. goth outfits take actual physical work. maybe the Aspirational Spectacle of Labor that makes up most of TikTok has made it appear unreal to the audience rather than something you can just sit down and do?

it takes forty seconds to make the fishnet tights into a shirt. you don't need instructions, you really can just look at it and figure it out. then you think, hm, if I can make fishnets into a shirt I wonder what other things I can turn into something else. your brain will amaze you. my mom would save her tights from her formal work outfits for me when they got holes or whatever and I would just go crazy with scissors and safety pins. lots of young designers are getting attention for this layered, tights-n-pins look at the moment and it really is a fantastic aesthetic but I wonder if people think there's something special about the people who make these clothes? there isn't. you can just do it at home while you watch trashy youtubes.

one time, around 2008 or so, @gothiccharmschool and I were at the photoshoot for tabletop RPG Unhallowed Metropolis. we were there with a bunch of local goths to all make the pictures for this book together. we had all brought tons of our costumes from home to cobble together outfits for the book illustrations, and there was a moment when I just handed Jilli a pile of black skirts and some pins and said hey Jilli, could you please make me up a bustle skirt for this model real quick while I shoot these other models? and of course she did, and they were beautiful, because she knows exactly what she's doing, and because that's all a bustle is: it's a way of bunching up a skirt with another skirt. you can do it at home. you don't need instructions or to hire a seamstress or watch a video. you can just look at something and say hm does it look like a bustle? let's drape it and play with it and pin whatever works. and then you wear it for the photoshoot, or to the club!!! and then next week you pin it a different way and it's a cape instead and you wear it again!!!!!!!

[wilwheaton]

This is from Star Trek Wholesome Posting on Facebook.

And because it's a FAQ, here's the story of The Infamous Clown Sweater, as I told someone who asked there:

"I did this fundraiser for EFF in San Francisco in ... 2001? 2002? Something like that. It was at DNA Lounge, and after we were done, this person came up to me with this horrific sweater (jumper, for you non-Americans). They told me it was part of The Infamous Clown Sweater Project. What's that, I asked. They told me they are getting as many people as possible to wear it and pose for a photo, which they would then upload to their webpage -- not website, webpage, because it was 2001 or so -- for all to see.

"Of *course* I was down for it, and that face I'm making in the first photo is my very real reaction to the _awful_ stank that was just infused in the acrylic fibers.

"The second picture is from a con about ... 2014? Something like that, based on how I look. Someone actually made their own version of that horrible sweater for me. One arm is too long, on purpose, the neck is all stretched out, on purpose, and it fits poorly, on purpose. It's so damn funny to me, and it came along at a moment when we were doing this "then and now" thing on Twitter (before the fascists took over).

"I still have the second sweater. I have no idea what happened to the original. Last time I checked, the website that hosted all those pictures -- so old it was manually coded in html, predating even Flickr -- was lost to the sands of time.

"But it never fails to make me smile when this picture comes back around. It reminds me of a specific time, when there was just so much hope for the online future we were all building."

And for those of you who are too young to know what Riker giving Wesley his "fondest wish" is, well ...

Wesley wanted to grow up to be a blue-eyed blond who I'm pretty sure the costume designer wanted to fuck?

GEORDI! You're not helping!

Look. I love you, Commander Riker, but ... you're gonna want to try again. Wesley's fondest wish rhymes with "marathon betazoid orgy on risa".

[killertoons]

I've got ideas and a theory for the recent welcome home updates (10/18/2024)

Walk with me-

So that short story alone already showed pulling ideas from Edgar Allen Poe with the tell-tale heart and the cast of amontillado

(I wouldnt be shocked if they reference other Edgar Allen poes works like the raven soon but that's me cheating to peek at clowns kofi and I won't speak further on that-)

Basically Sally is doing a rendition of the tell-tale heart and poppy got cast....only she doesn't want to be involved. It's a scary tale, and for those who didn't take advanced English

The story of the tell-tale hearts about a man so absolutely freaked out by this old man's eyes to quote

'I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture- a pale blue eye, with a film over it.'

So the man sets out to kill him, does so by lurking in the dark for 7 straight nights till finally the 8th night he finally does so, dismembered him and hide the pieces under the floorboards!

But when police came to investigate...he could hear both but a beating heart under the floors and from his guilt he admitted to the murder and ended the tale with

'"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed!- tear up the planks!-here, here!- it is the beating of his hideous heart!"

So already Sally doing a rendition of this tale is wild already as I imagine it's been changed to be more family friendly for the neighborhood, but poppy isn't up for it.

And Sally's sad about it! And of course the neighbors all know why poppy actually didn't wanna do it. And Sally trying to be a good friend realized the play scares her so they gotta do something to let poppy have her cozy state of mind away from anxiety

So they form their plan-

To cask of amontillado her into her house, brick by brick.

Another famous story by Edgar Allen Poe, that one is about a guy luring someone he had a dispute over into a cellar and bricking him up down there to rot.

It's a revenge story, one we have no details other than a man was wronged (we never learn the reason) his anger and vengeance taking center stage.

Through the entire story time, the neighbors are supposed to be following a book along as a read aloud story but they keep breaking into separate lil conversations or making quips to each other... Till the end where audio is lost on the rest of the story after poppy was bricked away.

However...

Because we have the secret website we can check there and what's found was....worse

Poppy in the dark of her barn and something is lurking with her in the dark.

By the end someone gets her out but the sounds of the people aren't named... although they sound familiar to us

I could say what we were all thinking and state the obvious "oh those must be the puppeteers! That was poppy's puppeteer having a freak out moment-"

Which I personally agree but there's more to it.

Do y'all know how big birds puppet works?

It's one person in there, with a screen to tell you where to go and a script taped inside while they maneuver around like this!

I imagine poppy is the same way since she's based design wise off big bird

Now with this in mind, add how hard it is to move or see or perceive where you are in general in that suit. How clasterphobic your gonna be if you can't get out!

I get clasterphobic trying to get out of a dress that fits too tight at the store, I can't imagine how scary this would be especially if your on your own in the dark room as well!

with only your lantern to read your lines and something to occupy yourself- maybe knitting as it's a hobby you picked up-

When you hear breathing that's not yours. From within the suit. A suit that's JUST big enough for you, mind you.

So it be impossible for anyone else to be breathing...only you forgot someone.

The puppet suit itself...is breathing.

And there's scratching at the door, something else is lurking in the dark with you but you can't see it. You can't get out, the suit can't leave but your mind is stuck the doors open but in another world it's closed and sealed-

But I'm getting ahead of myself

What is said is...what if that IS poppy reacting in the dark to something...but also it's the puppeteers reaction to poppy as well. They share a mind and A space for a moment in the dark where their fear matches them and it doesn't break till the door opens and the puppeteers talk..

I think the horror is going higher as both sides are gonna start interacting more and more with each other..

[onlyangel4]

forget about the party. ln4. smau.

lando norris x reader

request: Hi for the song request can i request “forget about the party” by majid jordan with either lando or charles (whoever you see fit) maybe a scared of love reader + driver that doesnt have the best relationship history but him and reader are like perfect for each other, THANK YOU!!!

in which reader has only ever been hurt by men and lando has an awful heartbreaking track record but they just work.

faceclaim: maisie peters

y/ninsta

liked by taylorswift, landonorris, gracieabrams and 1,231,001

y/ninsta: i can't believe i am writing this rn but i am on this month's cover of rolling stone magazine. as a little girl this was my biggest dream. guess now i have to dream bigger

view all 34,581 comments

landonorris: so proud of you my love

y/ninsta: couldn't have done it without your support

user1: leave mother alone she does not need you to break her heart

taylorswift: so proud of you angel

y/ninsta: thank you tay !!

user2: the preview on the rolling stone website says that she will be talking about her relationship history. i hope she finally addresses the hate she gets for her relationship with lando because honestly i love them

landonorris posted a story

written: my girl is on the cover of rolling stone and i could not be prouder ! she had the courage to speak out about the hate that we have been getting surrounding our relationship and i couldn't have worded it better myself. get the issue now.

y/nlandofan

liked by y/ninsta, landonorris, user5 and 56,991 others

tagged y/ninsta and landonorris

y/nlandofan: to celebrate THAT interview let's look back at my fav y/nlando moments.

1- the video that y/n hardlaunched their relationship with. y/n and lando dancing in y/n's kitchen to blank space by taylor swift. really giving their all.

2- the peace + quiet hat that lando got made for y/n for before her shows so that people know to give her peace and quiet so she can get in the zone.

3- y/n's birthday gift from last month. winnie norris y/ln their first child

4- that time lando and y/n facetimed right before the australian gp when she was about to perform in singapore

5- the podcast they filmed which is just too yappers yapping

6- my personal favourite, the merch that lando designed for y/n's most recent tour

view all 329 comments

y/ninsta: i actually started crying seeing all our moments posted all together i love you thank you for supporting our silly little relationship

y/nlandofan: oh my god ! i can't believe you have seen this i love you so so so much!

user5: how could anyone ever hate them

user6: i'm so glad she put the haters in their place

[ziseviolet]

Qipao/Cheongsam Taobao Shop Recs

A while ago I received a direct message asking for recs on where to buy qipao/cheongsam, and I figured I’d make a post for others who’d also be interested. 

First of all - I think qipao should be tried on and bought in-person if at all possible, since having the right fit is important - especially if it’s for a formal occasion like a wedding. However, since that’s often not possible, I’ve compiled a list of online shop recs, mainly for more casual occasions.

Since English-language online qipao shops are plentiful and easy to find, I’ll be focusing this list on Taobao shops only. Please note that these are my personal recs, based on my own aesthetic preferences. Thus most of the recs are for shops focused on retro-inspired, minguo-style qipao made using the traditional 平裁/pingcai (flat tailoring) method. Also, I have not actually purchased qipao from any of these shops (all my qipao were bought in person) - this is based mainly on how appealing I find the designs.

1. 嬉姷/Xi You - Elegant qipao modelled closely on historical designs, mainly from the Republican era/minguo. Careful attention paid to historical details. My favorite qipao shop to browse for fun:

2. 海上芳时/Shanghai Fancy - Specializes in chic minguo-style designs of the 1920s-1940s. Recently came out with a neat art deco-inspired collection:

3. 唐之语/Tang Zhi Yu - Retro-style qipao in a variety of bold prints, with a focus on the form-fitting designs of the 1950s-1960s, including those from the film “In the Mood for Love”:

4. 繁莳/Fancy Dream - Dreamy, delicate retro-inspired qipao and modified qipao. Also has a nice selection of winter majia (vests):

5. Top Ulara - A large selection of classic, retro-style qipao with a hint of glamour. Offers lots of long/thick/layered qipao suitable for colder weather:

6. 梦回故里/Menghui Guli - Nostalgic, conservative retro-style qipao for all seasons. Old-fashioned in a good way:

7. 晴山制衣/Qingshan Zhiyi - Retro-style qipao in fresh, vivid colors and an interesting variety of designs and patterns:

8. 限时赏味/Xianshi Shangwei - Streamlined, retro-style qipao in subtle colors and prints that exemplify understated elegance: 

9. 茉茉/Momo - Tons of options for simple, cute, and casual retro-style qipao suitable for daily wear. Designs tend towards monochromes and all-over prints. Another review/rec here:

10. 如及/Yu Gallery - Simple yet elegant retro-style and contemporary qipao. I love the shop’s use of sheer fabrics & layering in its designs:

11. 向南飞FLY - Offers a selection of casually stylish retro-style qipao and modified qipao for daily chic:

12. 川黛/Chuan Dai - Soft, feminine, pastel-infused qipao & modified qipao in retro-inspired and contemporary styles:

13. 四斤自制/Sijin Studio - Creative, avant-garde takes on (modified) qipao & qipao-inspired outfits:

14. 密扇/Mukzin - Colorful, playful, and irreverent modified qipao and qipao-inspired outfits. There’s also an English website here:

If you like the above qipao but still want an English website, there are several Taobao resellers that carry similar designs - for example, Beth and Brian Qipao. The hanfu shop Nuwa Hanfu also offers a carefully curated array of qipao, including plus-size qipao.

Finally, when it comes to in-person shops, I want to highlight Xiangjiang Silk Co., a relatively new boutique in New York City specializing in actual vintage 1950s-1960s qipao. There’s an article here on the boutique and its founder Heather Guo (who was featured in Vogue). Store visits are appointment-only, so you’ll have to reach out to Heather via her social media if you want to drop by.

If anyone has reviews of the above shops and/or more qipao shop recs, please share! ^^

Bonus: I also have online shop recs for hanfu (1, 2), modified hanfu/hanyuansu (1, 2), hanfu accessories, weimao, and hair accessories. 

[doumadono]

Inked by desire - Akaza x Reader

Warnings: smut w/o plot, modern au, tattoo artist!akaza, dirty talk, vaginal sex Synopsis: despite his professional demeanor, Akaza finds himself unable to resist the temptation and ends up taking you to the back room of his tattoo shop where he passionately claims you as his own

MASTERLIST

As you scroll through the numerous tattoo shops online, you come across one with glowing reviews and a stunning portfolio of intricate designs. The name of the tattoo artist is Akaza, and you're immediately drawn to the intricate and beautiful artwork he has created. You decide to book an appointment with him, hoping that he can create something unique and special for you.

Days later, you find yourself standing outside the tattoo shop, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The sign outside reads "Rampage Ink," and the interior is just as impressive as the website promised. The walls are adorned with examples of Akaza's work, ranging from delicate floral designs to bold, geometric patterns.

As you approach the front desk, a rather tall and imposing man emerges from the back room. He introduces himself as Akaza, his voice deep and smooth.

You feel a shiver run down your spine as he appraises you with a piercing gaze.

Akaza, the artist, is a towering figure, bulky and muscular, with broad shoulders and thick arms that are covered in intricate tattoos that seem to tell a story. His hair is short and black, with the ends dyed a vibrant pink. He wears a tight-fitting black plain t-shirt that hugs his chest and biceps, showing off his impressive physique. His black jeans have a stylish distressed look, with a hole on one knee that adds to his a little edgy appearance. Despite his imposing size, Akaza moves with a surprising grace, his every movement fluid and precise. He carries himself with a confident swagger, a man who knows his own worth and isn't afraid to show it. His piercing gaze seems to penetrate to the very core of a person, and when he speaks, his voice carries a low, rumbling power that commands attention. "Ah, you must be my next appointment," he says, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips. As he approaches you, he can see that you're already nervous. He can't help but notice how exposed you are, with your boobs almost falling out of your tight shirt with a plunging neckline and your legs barely covered by a miniskirt. He can see that you're confident, but he can also see the small details that betray your nervousness. Akaza is used to clients who are nervous or even scared of getting a tattoo, but he can sense that you're particularly on edge. The moment Akaza laid his eyes on you, he felt a surge of possessiveness and desire that he couldn't quite explain. He knew that he wanted you, and that he would have you. "Come with me, and we'll get started on your tattoo."

You follow him to the back room, taking in the dim lighting and the low hum of music in the background.

Akaza gestures to the tattooing bed and asks you to take a seat, his eyes never leaving your face. "Tell me, what kind of design were you thinking of?" he asks, his fingers already starting to trace the lines of your skin.

You can feel the heat of his touch and the way it sends shivers down your spine. You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "It's actually my first tattoo, and I was thinking of something floral. But I want it in a place that not everyone can see."

As you describe your vision for the tattoo, Akaza nods along, his face taking on a look of intense concentration. He begins to sketch out the design on a sheet of paper, his movements fluid and precise. "I think the best possible location for this tattoo would be your abdomen," he says, pointing to the area just above your pubic mound. "It's a spot that's easy to hide if you need to, and it's not as sensitive as some other areas, so it shouldn't be too painful," he informs you. As you lay back on the tattooing bed, Akaza orders, "Alright, now lift your shirt and tug your skirt down a little. I need to make sure I can see the pace properly." As he prepares his tattoo gun and positions himself, you stop him abruptly. "Wait, sir," you say, your voice laced with anxiety. "I don't think I can do this…"

Akaza doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a moment to study your face. He sees the fear in your eyes, the way your body tenses up. Akaza sets down the tattoo gun and gestures for you to sit up. "Hey," he whispers, his voice gentle. "It's okay. We can stop if you will want. But if you're up for it, I have an idea that might help." He watches as you bite your lip, waiting patiently for him to share his idea with you, and he can feel his desire grow. He can see that your nipples are hardened, even through the fabric of the shirt you're wearing. It's hot in the studio, but he knows that there is only one reason for that. "I can help you ease some stress," he says with a grin, his eyes lingering on your body. As his fingers deliberately graze your knee, it's evident that the touch is anything but accidental.

You blush at his words, but you can feel your own desire growing. You can see the hunger in his eyes, and it sends shivers down your spine. "I can see the way you're looking at me. It's kind of intense, sir." From the moment your eyes first beheld the figure of Akaza, you knew with utter certainty that he would be the bane of your existence. He exuded an aura of dangerous sensuality that was utterly irresistible, drawing you inexorably toward him with a magnetic force that left you powerless to resist. His piercing gaze seemed to strip away all pretense and lay bare the very essence of your being, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as he leans in closer to you. You can smell his strong cologne, and it's driving you wild. You can feel the heat building between you, and you know that you want him just as much as he wants you.

"I just want you to relax before we start," he utters, his lips brushing against your ear.

You moan softly, unable to resist him any longer. Twirling a strand of hair around your finger with a mischievous glint in your eye, you inquire, "So, Akaza, how do you plan on helping me cope with all this stress?"

Akaza takes your hand.

You hop off the bed and follow him.

The man leads you to the door of another room in the tattoo shop. As he pushes it open, the smell of antiseptic and ink fills your nostrils. The room is bright and spacious, with a large tattooing bed in the center and shelves filled with ink bottles and tattoo equipment lining the walls.

So there you are, kneeling in front of a man whom you hardly know, engulfing his entire length inside your mouth, flicking and circling your tongue around it, utterly intoxicated by the sensation, looking up at him. Akaza's well-endowed member causes discomfort in your mouth, as his size is quite overwhelming. You have one hand resting between your thighs, legs slightly spread. Your fingers are teasing your already slick clit, having pushed your panties aside.

He is fully aware of his impressive size, taking pleasure in the sight of you struggling to handle it. His confidence only grows as he slips his hands into your hair, tugging at it occasionally, while emitting satisfied grunts. Suddenly, he firmly grasps your hair and begins thrusting vigorously, his sole aim being to release his load deep in your throat. The grip of your throat around his manhood is heavenly, so tight that it causes him to let out a throaty moan.

Tears stream down your face as he holds your head in place, your eyes rolling back as he empties himself deep down your throat. Mascara smudges down your cheeks, evidence of your surrender to his desires.

Akaza smirks wryly while looking down at you, his voice filled with a sense of satisfaction as he says, "Swallowed it all like a good slut, huh? You fucking cockslut." His eyes are fixed on you, watching your reaction as his calloused hand caresses your cheek.

Akaza takes hold of your elbow and pulls you up to your feet with a firm grip. Without a chance to catch your breath, he slams you against the mirror and fucks you relentlessly. The glass fogs from his heavy breathing while you moan uncontrollably, gripping his shirt and sobbing in pure ecstasy.

This is the thickest and best cock you've ever had, and it's driving you wild.

He lifts one of your legs, wrapping it around his hip, thrusting harder and faster, filling the room with wet, nasty sounds from your abused pussy. "You're so fucking tight, cunt. You came to me almost uncovered," he muses, his voice low and teasing. "Either you wanted to flaunt yourself or you were seeking to get fucked," Akaza remarks bluntly, his thrusts become sloppier with time.

Your body trembles as you climax and cream on his cock, taking all of his cum inside of you.

As it all comes to an end, he grabs your face with his hand and gives you the sloppiest kiss you've ever experienced. A string of saliva connects your lips when he pulls away. "You really took it all like a good, little whore," Akaza says, smirking at you.

After the intense intercourse with Akaza, you feel a sense of relaxation and contentment wash over you.

Akaza notices this and leads you back to the tattooing bed with a confident stride, ready to continue his artistry. The atmosphere in the room has changed; it is now charged with a quiet intensity and focus. As he prepares his tools, Akaza explains the steps in the tattooing process, his voice low and soothing, as if no passionate events had occurred between the two of you.

As he begins to work on your tattoo, you can feel his hands on your skin. They're strong and skilled. Akaza gives you a warm smile, sensing that you're feeling more at ease now.

You can feel the gentle pressure of the needle on your skin, a sensation that is simultaneously painful and pleasurable. The pain is bearable, and you find yourself relaxing into the rhythm of Akaza's movements. The man's using his expert touch to create the design you've chosen. As he works, he keeps up a steady stream of conversation, asking about your interests and sharing stories from his own life, ever so casually.

It's a distraction that helps take your mind off the pain, and you find yourself relaxing more and more as time goes on. After what had just happened, the slight stings caused by the tattoo gun's needles feels insignificant to you.

It is an easy job for Akaza to finish the tattoo since your mind is still reeling from the pleasure he had given you. Akaza finishes the intricate design with ease, his skilled hands moving fluidly with the tattoo gun.

You feel a slight stings as the needle punctures your skin, but your mind is elsewhere. You can still feel his firm grasp on you, his cock buried deep inside you as you both moaned in ecstasy.

When he's finished, he steps back to admire his work, but he's not just admiring the tattoo - Akaza is admiring you. "You look even more beautiful with the tattoo," he praises, his voice low and seductive. He offers you a discount on the tattoo, still grinning from the intense pleasure you both shared.

You eagerly ask if you can come back in maybe two weeks for another tattoo, and he nods his head, knowing that he has you under his spell. As you leave the shop, you can still feel the aftershocks of pleasure pulsing through your body. You know that you will be back for more, unable to resist the allure of the tattoo artist named Akaza and his skilled hands.

[shapeshiftersvt]

10 Years of Shapeshifting

On Trans Day of Visibility in 2014, an announcement on Tumblr launched a new chest binder company focused on full customizability, fitting all bodies, and introducing bright color and joyous print to a bland market. Ten years later, Shapeshifters has grown into a true small business with five employees, a professional sewing studio, its own website, and an undeniable influence on the chest binder market as a whole. With over 8,000 customers in over forty countries all over the world, co-owners and founders Eli and Krista Coughlin-Galbraith are grateful to share this huge milestone with the people who’ve made it possible for a small, queer-owned, community-driven business to make it this far.

To mark the occasion, we’re excited to announce the very first exclusive Shapeshifters fashion line: The Cryptid Collection!

Taking inspiration from the weird, the mysterious, and the uncategorizable, The Cryptid Collection is a collaborative design project from Eli and Krista that will feature six of the internet’s favorite cryptids in a variety of new products and projects.

The full announcement, details, and the first round of cryptids will drop on our official 10th anniversary, Trans Day of Visibility, Sunday, March 31, 2024. And keep your eyes peeled for new products and announcements throughout the rest of the year, including opportunities to spy some of these cryptids in person.

[drowsie341]

@gontagokuhara-week Day 6 - pregame / postgame

Major spoilers for V3 under the cut!

Sooo the idea is that this would be in-universe promo material for the upcoming Danganronpa V3 series, designed by the lackeys over in Team Danganronpa's advertising department.

Given how Danganronpa was massive in-universe, with presumably a shitton of advertising and publicity... I wonder how pregame Gonta would have fit into that. Why would he want to join the killing game? How would he feel about all the publicity - would he be into that like pregame Kaito, or is whatever motive he had to join the game strong enough to get past any uncomfortable feelings?

Some of these questions could be answered if pregame Gonta had any lines of dialogue :( But him never speaking could itself be a character trait. I think he could be someone who rarely talks because others find him intimidating and they don't engage with him... and his silence then makes him look more intimidating, which makes him keep more of his thoughts to himself, and so on. But that interpretation of him then sends me back to 'why would he put himself through a TV show?'.

Would he be aware of the "muscular person goes down in Chapter 4" trope, and if so, would he want to buck that trend, or is he relying on it? It's all interesting to think about.

Also, change of topic but I kind of have a plotline for the promo material in-universe

Each student would have their own variant, with their own memetic/self-referential taglines

Tsumugi suggested the taglines for each variant - she's the only one in the department who understands what they mean, the rest of the team just nods along as she's the mastermind and they think she has some authority because of that (she doesn't)

The higher-ups at Team Danganronpa swiftly come down on this and ban the taglines for being "tacky" and "only marketable to obsessed old-school Danganronpa fans", replacing all of them with the generic "thrills, chills, kills!"

but not before merch with the original taglines is created and sent off to stores. Said merch is put on second-hand websites for several times the original price. Tsumugi ends up being called to the CEO's office for an awkward conversation

[welcomehomeincorrectquotes]

We all know that something is going on with Wally and Home, but who else could be active behind scenes?

Frank Frankly:

Frank has been here since the Beta, so it's likely Clown Coffin has something planned for him.

Frank is obviously designed by Clown Coffin to be incredibly at odds with the rest of the neighbourhood; with his more reserved personality, less saturated colour scheme and lack of an "-ie" sound at the end of his first name.

He is the bug expert in Welcome Home, and there are literal bugs all over the website that happen to be linked to the Wally POV videos.

As the "smartest neighbour," it seems he would be one of the first to notice something wrong with the neighbourhood.

Eddie Dear:

Has the most mysterious backstory out of the neighbours.

His memory problems seem to go beyond being "forgetful" and into "plot relevent."

The envelopes the Restoration Project recieved match the ones Eddie is seen carrying and possibly made himself.

Sally Starlet:

Like Wally, she has devil allusions as the "brightest star" who "fell from heaven."

She is an actress, making it fitting for her to become aware of being in a tv show, and she would likely be very invested in bringing it back.

She has openly conversed with the Narrator.

If any of the neighbours had to be villains, I think Sally Starlet has the potential be the coolest!

Howdy Pillar:

Howdy played a role in the Wally Plush advert.

If Capitalism played a role in the show's downfall, shopkeeper Howdy would be good character to explore how making money often comes in the way of creativity!

Julie Joyful:

She has been here since the Beta and had that ominous image centred around her.

If Frank were to figure something out, it's almost certain that Julie would be there right beside him!

Barnaby B Beagle:

Barnaby has been here since the Beta.

There is a LOT of ominous imagery surrounding Barnaby that makes me genuinely concerned for the guy.

Despite his careless act throughout the videos, he was the first to acknowledge Wally's off behaviour.

Barnaby was physically present during the live interview alongside Wally.

Poppy Partridge:

Like Julie, Barnaby, and Frank; Poppy has been here since the Beta.

Poppy is a hermit who is scared to go outside. Maybe this isn't just a cute character quirk that the creators programmed into her, but because she knows something about the neighbourhood.

[stickkitty]

I got color names for the AvAvM characters

I used four websites which I will bullet in order for each one:

- color-name.com

- colornamer.robertcooper.me

- chir.ag/projects/name-that-color

- colors.artyclick.com

I will also sometimes be pretending their names become their literal personality/design because its fun for this post

EDIT: I forgot to say but the reason I am doing this is cuz I found out Alan Revealed official hex codes for a lot of the characters (idk when this was, I usually look at the AvA wiki and I suddenly saw it there and was like ooh this is useful) I did not do TDL or TDL cuz they are straight up just pure black and red (usually gives no other names for such pure colors although I technically never checked). The mercs did not get hex code reveals sadly (but they are multicolor so I wouldn’t do them anyway). I am not sure who else got hex reveals that I did not do other than hangman and Vic’s gray workers, but hangman is also pure black and I didn’t feel like doing anyone else. (Edited this again)

THE SECOND COMING

- Orange (wow basic)

- Safety Orange (honestly fits their personality)

- Blaze Orange (last two websites had this result. ArtyClick said it was a 100% match!)

- ArtyClick always says 4 similar color names. One was Mango Tango and surprisingly King didn’t have that from any website or the similar names list.

RED

- Boston University Red (That’s his future university now)

- Communist (Red’s a Communist?! :0)

- Guardsman Red

- Rosso Corsa

YELLOW

(Sigh no yellow text color on Tumblr I swear they used to have yellow)

- Tangerine Yellow (their new fave fruit)

- USC Gold (Yellow’s future University)

- The last two sites said Supernova which is a very cute name

GREEN

- Alien Armpit (BAHAHAHA THAT NAME- rip Green's ego)

- Blinking Terminal

- Limeade (that’s better)

- Alien Green (never mind he’s an Alien again) (Green is an Alien and he is kinda spacey)

BLUE

- Spiro Disco Ball (fits their personality since they are very good at dancing)

- Shovel Knight (Kinda fits cuz Blue likes gardening) (Shovel Knight and Guardsman Red should be in the same kingdom)

- Dodger Blue (her favorite sports team)

- Bright Sky Blue

PURPLE

- Heliotrope Magenta

- Magentle (A gentle Magenta?)

- Violet Eggplant

- Barney Purple (LOL Barney the dinosaur)

PURPLE’S MOM

I call her Sakura but she has other names so I just put Purples Mom

- “Shocking Pink (Crayola)” (Crayola? How shocking…)

- This and the next website both said Pink Flamingo

- Fuchsia Pink

PURPLE’S DAD

- Blue (wow basic #2)

- C64 Blue (...interesting name)

- Blue Ribbon (cuz he won so many fights I guess)

- ArtyClick Ocean Blue (The website name is in his name?)

- Similar name ArtyClick gave me is “Blue Orchid” which is cool since many people hc Pink to be called Orchid. Blue Orchid and Pink Orchid!

Bonus for Blue Ribbon and Blue Orchid:

Bonus for the first ribbon drawing except the ribbon says something else:

King Orange

- Metallic Orange

- “Apple II Chocolate”

- The last two sites said Bamboo (aren’t bamboos green?)

Gold

- Chinese Gold (so he’s Chinese?)

- Leopard (cute ^ ^)

- Buddha Gold (and he's Buddhist?)

- Yellow Ochre

Victim

- Dark Liver

- Fiftieth Shade of Gray

- Emperor (Guardsman Red and Shovel Knight serves xem)

- Vampire (Vampire Vic :0)

Corn Dog Guy

- Smoky Topaz

- Cranberry Zing

- The last two sites said Copper Rust

[astroismypassion]

✨PART OF FORTUNE IN SIGNS AND HOUSES SERIES: 10TH HOUSE✨

Credit: Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

ARIES PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Aries and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via marketing or work in dynamic and fast-paced industries, via coaching, sports management, fitness entrepreneurship, coaching and mentoring services in connection with career development, leadership skills, personal empowerment, via work in innovation management, technology development, product development, especially emerging industries. You find abundance when you are bold, take risks, focus on ambitious goals, cultivate independence, build a strong public image and when you embrace leadership qualities.

TAURUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Taurus and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via work in finance, banking, investment, wealth management. Or via working as a realtor, property manager, real estate developer, via curating, selling or managing art collections, working as a chef, restaurateur or food critic. You find abundance in work in hospitality (managing hotels, resorts, spas), via work in landscape architecture or gardening, interior design, or as a performer, producer or manager, through farming, agricultural management or sustainable food production or creating an eco-friendly business. You feel abundant when you are focused on stability, value quality, when you are patient and persistent.

GEMINI PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Gemini and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via work as a journalist, writer, editor, public relations, marketing, working as PR specialist, brand manager, social media strategist, work as a teacher, lecturer, educational content creator, via writing content for blogs, websites or online platforms connected with technology, lifestyle, business. You find abundance when you write books (fiction or non-fiction), via work in technology sector, via technical writing, UX writing or product management, via event planning and work as a sales representative, account manager or business strategist. You feel abundant when you network actively, when you keep learning and embrace versatility.

CANCER PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Cancer and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via work in healthcare as a nurse, doctor or therapist, work in interior design or home décor, helping others create comfortable and nurturing spaces, work as a chef, baker or food critic, via handmade furniture, textiles or pottery, engaging in childcare, daycare management or family support services, via work in real estate, helping families find their ideal home. You feel abundant when you use emotional intelligence, emphasize nurturing and care.

LEO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Leo and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via pursuing a career in acting on stage, in film or on television, working as a musician, singer or performer, via directing or producing theatrical productions, films or TV shows, work in television, radio or digital broadcasting, you could work as a host, anchor or presenter, designer, stylist, model, painter, sculptor or graphic designer.

VIRGO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Virgo and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via offering personalized health and wellness service. You can offer remote fitness coaching, such as offering personalized fitness plans and virtual training sessions. You could work in mental health professions, like counselling or psychology, work as a nutritionist, dietitian, work as a proofreader or editor, work with biology, chemistry, environmental science, mathematics or with language or having an IT role (system analysis, IT support or cybersecurity). You feel abundant when you develop organizational skills, use analytical skills and when you seek structured environments.

LIBRA PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Libra and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via offering dance classes, via work in art curation, gallery management or the fines arts, helping to showcase and promote artists and their work, via a career in human resources, focusing on employee relations, conflict resolution, via talent management, recruitment or career coaching. You feel abundant when you work in fashion design, graphic design, visual arts, brand management and marketing. You feel abundant when you aim for balance and harmony, emphasize fairness and justice.

SCORPIO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Scorpio and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via forensic accounting, crisis counselling or support services, via a career in scientific research, forensic science, medical research, psychology, surgery, oncology, energy healing, finance, technology or wellness, via art therapy and filmmaking. You feel abundant when you embrace transformation, healing, use psychological insight, when you pursue authority and expertise.

SAGITTARIUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Sagittarius and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via travel blogging, vlogging or becoming a travel consultant. You find abundance via academic research, publishing, by becoming a travel consultant, tour guide, work in the tourism industry, work connected with educational, human rights and cultural exchange, via career as a spiritual teacher, counsellor, life coach, via theological or philosophical work, writing or teaching. You feel abundant when you cultivate optimism or enthusiasm, seek global or cultural perspectives, pursue knowledge or education and embrace exploration and travel.

CAPRICORN PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Capricorn Sun people in your life. You find abundance via work as a financial advisor or analyst, accounting, as a property developer, manager or investor, via work in property management, overseeing rental properties, commercial spaces or large residential complexes, via civil engineering, work in educational administration (school or college management). You feel abundant when you focus on long-term goals and value pragmatism and responsibility.

AQUARIUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Aquarius and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via buying and selling collectibles (stamps, coins, vintage items), creating eco-friendly products or services (zero-waste goods, sustainable fashion). You may also find abundance in esports coaching by offering coaching services for aspiring professional gamers. You feel abundant via work in scientific research, in fields like physics, astronomy, biotechnology and environmental science, work in roles focused on research and development, via digital marketing. You feel abundant when you are pursuing unconventional paths, via networking with like-minded individuals and align with social causes.

PISCES PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 10TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Pisces and Capricorn Sun people in your life. You can earn money via work in music as a composer, musician or performer, via a career in painting, illustration, sculpture or other visual arts, via hospice work, via work in non-profit sector, focusing on causes related to humanitarian aid, environmental conservation or social justice, work in hospitality, such as hotel management or event planning, via cultural exchange, guided tours or spiritual retreats. You feel abundant when you embrace your creative talents, cultivate compassion and empathy, when you explore spiritual and esoteric interests and when you focus on meaningful impact.

Credit: Tumblr blog @astroismypassion

[watercolor-hearts]

Formula 1 drivers and stethoscopes (2024 grid)

I have too much free time (I should work on things) and a bit too big interest in stethoscopes, so I thought why not to make a post where I pair all the drivers of this year's grid with a stethoscope color/design I think fits them the best. | Formula E version by @fredwardart.

I don't want to speak too much, so let's dive in:

Max - Purrfect (MDF Instruments)

What else could be more perfect for the cat dad of the grid than this cute cat tube design? I don't think there's a stethsocope more fitting for Max.

Checo - Royal Blue (MDF Instruments)

I think Checo would go for a simple one. No need for anything fancy if a simple one does the job, too.

Lando - Graffiti (MDF Instruments)

This Graffiti design is pretty similar to Lando's sticker helmet and I think it's fun and fits his personality. (But he'd probably try and make one that has his own design on it.)

Oscar - Orange (Littmann)

I think this simple orange stethoscope is a good fit for Oscar because the color can symbolise McLaren, the team he'll achieve a lot with.

Carlos - Burgundy with smoke finish (Littmann)

I chose this Littmann for Carlos because of his helmet (and CS55 racing suit) colors/design. Red is a good fit because of Spain and the spanish flag, and a bit of black makes it perfect like it does with his helmet, too.

Charles - Burgundy with champagne finish (Littmann)

This is a bit similar to what I chose for Carlos, but there's an important difference: the champagne finish chest piece, which has a gold-ish tone on more natural/non-studio photos. Red for Ferrari, a shiny, golden-like chest piece for being Ferrari's golden boy, it's a (close to) perfect match. (But it would be even better if the ear tubes were champagne finish, too, but sadly that's not an option.)

George - Caribbean Blue (Littmann)

Caribbean blue for George, it wasn't even a question after @landoisokay asked me if George would have this or a simple black and silver one. I think he'd choose this because it's not as simple as a black and silver one but it's still not too much (in contrast with the same color with a rainbow finish chest piece and golden ear tubes), it has a bit of color and I think it's the perfect color for George.

Lewis - Black and Gold (Littmann)

For Lewis, I didn't have to think too much, it was obvious that he'd get Littmann's masterpiece, the black and gold Master Cardiology, the highest quality non-digital stethoscope from Littmann. This color combination is 100% Lewis for me.

Fernando - Green/Cyprium (MDF Instruments)

When I saw this color combination, I immediately thought of Fernando. I don't think it requires much explanation.

Lance - Green (MDF Instruments)

A simple but still really nice green and silver one for Lance.

Daniel - Every Rose (MDF Instruments)

@fredwardart sent me this one, saying it could be perfect for Daniel, and I immediately fell in love with it because it indeed is perfect for him. (And I couldn't see it because I was looking at the international/non-UK version of MDF's website and it didn't have this one. So thank you for it, Freddie. ❤)

Yuki - White/Black (MDF Instruments)

When I was looking at pics on Yuki's instagram and then on Pinterest to see which colors he likes or which ones look good on him, I realized he looks really good in white, and this white tube with black chest pieces and ear tubes is the best one I could pair him with. (At first I wanted one that has food on ir or something food-related, but I couldn't find any.)

Kevin - Titan (MDF Instruments)

When I saw this in the Carbon Fiber collection of MDF, my first thought was Kevin. Perfect match.

Nico - Pinkore and Cher (MDF Instruments)

I sent this one to @fredwardart as a joke once when we were talking about stethoscopes because it reminded me of the Barbie movie, and he said it could be perfect for Nico as he's the Ken.

Esteban - Black with red stem (Littmann)

As I noticed, Esteban really likes to use red and black in his helmet designs, so I think a full black (smoke finish) Littmann with a touch of red on the stem is perfect for him.

Pierre - Starry Night (MDF Instruments)

This is a pretty fun design from MDF, when I first thought about what stethoscope Pierre would have, for some reason I imagined something like this. A blue one with a fun design people can compliment. I feel like he'd choose one that's not too much but also not the most basic blue one.

Logan - Navy Blue (Littmann)

Choosing one for Logan was easy because in one of my stories/universes two other drivers gift him one and I imagine it like this. (And it has "It beats for you" engraved on the chest piece.)

Alex - Paws/Capridium (MDF Instruments)

Most, if not all of us know that Alex/Alex's family has a lot of animals, and because of it, I think this paw print design is the best fit for him. It comes with different chest piece and ear tube colors but I think this blue one is the best, it makes the stethoscope really unique together with the tube design.

Guanyu - Black with mirror finish (Littmann)

Guanyu is the man of elegance, the perfect match for him is a black Littmann with a mirror finish chest piece. The color black is elegant, it fits everything and the shine of the mirror finish on the chest piece gives the little extra, the luxury that makes me feel like it's the one for Guanyu.

Valtteri - Poseidon (MDF Instruments)

When I saw this in the Carbon Fiber collection of MDF, I instantly knew this was Valtteri, just like I knew the other one was Kevin. Sometimes it's just a feeling without any explanation.

-

Thank you for reading this post, I hope you enjoyed it and I could show you some good matches and fun stethoscope designs. 😊 If you have any thoughts or questions, feel free to leave a comment or send an ask. ❤

[prentissluvr]

yay i'm so excited!! i think your writing is so warm and beautiful! right now ive been thinking about sam trying to figure out what nickname you like best. like you'll be researching a case and suddenly he'll look at you with a smile and say "what about honey? suits u" and you'd just melt right there looking into his soft eyes!! AAH he's so cute I literally need him 😭

-💐

ahhh thank you so so much darling!!

aHHH BESTIE OMGGG STOP I'M SO SOFT that is so so sweet and cute i'm crying :,)

i am a firm believer that sam calls you honey allll the time it's soooo so cute imo and so him <33 i think he sticks with pretty classic nicknames like honey and baby the most, and loves whatever else you ask him to call you. like if you have a nickname in a different language that you speak that you like, he tries so hard to match your pronunciation as perfectly as he can. if not he'll settle for you using the nickname on him instead hehe. ughhh but back to honey i'm just :,) crying that's such a cute little scenario. like he's not actually focused on his research, the sweet loverboy oh my god. like he's just mulling over pet names that might fit you that you'll like. because he actually adores calling you by your name. i don't think he's the kind of person where calling each other by your names is like oh no what's wrong they're not using my designated nickname. i think he has so much reverence and adoration for your name because that's you, that's his baby!! plus he loves to hear his name in your voice.

but he also finds simple pet names soooo sweet and lovely and loves to use them for you. it's just that you've only started dating recently! and he's actually had these pet names swimming around in his brian for ages, but he doesn't want to use them too soon or make you uncomfortable. so he's staring at some lore website thinking about how muchhhh he's been aching to call you honey all day (and week and month and maybe even year), but he wants to suggest it to you first to make sure you like it/you're okay with it. first, he starts with saying casually, "i'm coming up with nicknames to call you," to gauge how you feel about the idea. when you seem to like it (you're begging to find out what he's thinking), he decides he'll bring it up today

so when his gentle voice interrupts the sounds of clacking keyboards and motel ac, asking "how about honey? i think it suits you" you think your heart is ready to burst out of your chest!!! he sounds so sweet and hopeful as he asks, and when you look at him, you just about melt into a puddle on the floor when you see those pretty puppy dog eyes of his, silently begging for you to give a sign that you like it.

"it's perfect, sammy," you smile. his faces morphs into a full grin and his dimples pop out in all of their sweet, sweet glory, and there's nothing in the world that could have stopped you from standing right then and there and walking right up to him to plant a kiss to his pretty, pretty lips.

[sniffanimal]

I'll give a proper review when they actually get here but I ordered my 2nd pair of Billy shoes and I was so impressed with my first pair!!! I only even had to order a 2nd pair bc I wore out the soles wearing them every single day for 2 years (the new pair I bought has boot-like rubber soles that should be able to handle me)

but in case you've never heard of them, Billy is a company that makes adaptive and accessible shoes! they have everything from sandals to sneakers to running shoes to snow boots!

this is the pair I just ordered! notice the zipper goes all the way around the toe box: these shoes are incredibly easy to put on. they come with a little tassel on the zipper that is pretty easy to grab onto and pull, or easy to hook something like a carabiner to to pull on. These shoes also come in 2 different widths, Medium and Wide, and the wide ones particularly are designed to fit over AFOs and other foot braces! my previous pair fit over my foot braces just fine! the top of the shoe opens up completely so there's no stuffing your foot into the shoe, just unzip, place your foot, and zip back up

I just wanted to shout out this company because accessibility is for everyone! I normally don't need accomodations for putting on my shoes (I prefer slip-ons so I don't have to bend but it's not a big deal), and I usually wear my braces at night when I sleep, so I don't Need shoes that fit them. BUT accessibility is for everyone! I like having shoes that are easy to wear and can fit my braces if I need them! and the adaptions in these shoes don't take away from my ability to wear them at all! Plus since I'm a Men's 7/women's 9, I just barely fit into their kids shoes line hehehehe

Also, for anyone it might be relevant for, you can buy single shoes on their website, if you need one shoe or need two different sizes! they also offer guides on which shoes fit AFOs the best!

I know for sure Target sells them in their stores if you want to go try a pair on in person! they might only carry kids sizes though, not sure.