#captive center model

[zcoordinate]

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[meleeyz]

୭ 𝗜𝗡 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘 ˚. ᵎᵎ 

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled.

୨୧ I love that you love dad!Ekko as much as I do, I have like three or four drafts on this and I'm not going to stop now.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The Firelights hideout was never quiet, not truly. Even at night, the creak of wood, the faint buzz of firefly, and the occasional murmur of voices filtered through the air. Yet tonight, the sounds grated on you more than usual. You sat alone in the main room, slumped in a chair, your legs stretched out, and your head resting against the backrest. Your body was still, but your mind raced.

The meeting earlier had drained you. Every face in the crowd, every raised voice, every plea, every challenge—they were all into your memory. There were no easy answers when it came to survival. Staying in the hideout offered safety, but at what cost? Heading into battle was madness, and yet you had found yourself standing at the front of the room, advocating for just that.

Jayce Talis had begged.

The thought still lingered, making your stomach churn. The golden man of Piltover, the symbol of everything Zaun despised, had been desperate enough to cross the divide and plead for help. It was absurd. It was dangerous. And it was necessary.

You looked over at Wyeth’s crib, just a few feet away. He was still awake, his tiny fingers caressing the mobile Ekko had built for him. Little Firelight models swayed lazily above it, glowing faintly in the dimly lit room. His giggles broke the heavy silence from time to time, a sound that filled you with warmth.

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. You were exhausted, but sleep felt like a luxury you couldn’t afford. For your people. For your baby. For the memory of the man you loved.

Ekko.

The name still made your chest ache. Some nights, you let yourself believe he’d be back, that he’d walk through the door like nothing had happened, his grin as bright as ever. Other nights, you couldn’t even say his name. Not out loud. It hurt too much.

A sudden commotion outside jolted you upright. Voices—louder than usual—echoed through the hideout. The door slammed open, and Roux burst in, her curls wild and her chest heaving as if she’d run the whole way.

You shot her a sharp look, raising a hand to signal for quiet, but Wyeth didn’t so much as flinch. He was still captivated by the spinning fireflies above him, his tiny hand outstretched.

“Roux,” you said, your voice low and steady despite the tension knotting your muscles. “What’s going on?”

For a moment, she didn’t answer. She stood frozen, her dark eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and relief. And then, she smiled—a wide, genuine smile that lit up her whole face.

She didn’t say a word, just nodded at you, her expression speaking volumes.

Your heart lurched in your chest. No, it couldn’t be—

You shot to your feet, crossing the room in three strides to scoop Wyeth into your arms. He let out a surprised coo, his hands grabbing at the edge of your shirt. You didn’t have time to comfort him, your feet already moving toward the stairs.

The shelter was alive with movement. Firelights crowded the central area, their voices a buzzing cacophony. They were clustered together, their faces turned toward the center where a figure stood, just barely visible through the sea of bodies.

You pushed your way forward, your grip on Wyeth tightening with each step. Your breath came faster, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Please, let it be him.

The Firelights parted as you approached, one by one stepping aside as if they could sense the urgency in your movements. And then you saw him.

Ekko.

He stood there, his hair disheveled, his clothes dirty and torn, but his smile was as radiant as ever. His eyes locked onto yours, and in that instant, it was as if time itself had rewound.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying over the crowd.

Your heart tightened, a wave of relief and disbelief crashing over you. You barely registered the people around you as you stepped closer, Wyeth squirming in your arms, reaching out toward the man who looked just like him.

And then—

You woke with a start, your chest heaving, your heart pounding like a drum. The room was dark, the faint hum of the hideout returning to your ears.

For a moment, you sat there, frozen, the vivid memory of Ekko’s face lingering like a phantom. Then, reality set in. You were still in the main room, slouched in the same chair as before.

But something was wrong.

Wyeth.

The crib was empty.

Panic shot through you like lightning as you scrambled to your feet, your eyes darting around the room. The hanging firefly mobile swayed gently, untouched.

“Wyeth?” you called, your voice breaking.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The air was suffocating, panic pounding in your chest as your eyes darted around the dimly lit room. Where was Wyeth? Your fists clenched, your pulse racing as the dark corners seemed to stretch endlessly.

You stepped forward, instinctively grabbing the nearest object you could find—Ekko’s hammer. The weight of it was familiar, grounding you for just a moment. Your knuckles whitened around its handle as you heard the faintest sound behind you, the scrape of a boot against the floorboards.

Someone was there.

Without thinking, you spun around, raising the hammer high, ready to strike—but a hand caught your wrist mid-swing, strong and firm. The hammer slipped from your grip, clattering to the ground.

The dim light caught the edges of his face first—the familiar curve of his jawline, the wild twists of his hair—and then his eyes. Those unmistakable, tear-filled eyes.

“Ekko?”

He stood there, smiling softly, as if you hadn’t just tried to bash his skull in.

“Aren’t you going to say hello to me?” His voice cracked at the edges, but the warmth in it was unmistakable.

For a moment, you couldn’t move. Your mind raced to catch up with your heart, which was already soaring, even as doubt clung to the edges of your thoughts. Was this another dream? A cruel trick?

Your knees nearly buckled. You’d been sleeping, and somehow, while you were lost in restless dreams, he had come back.

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He didn’t wait for an answer. In an instant, his arms were around you, pulling you into him with all the strength he had. You collapsed against his chest, your hands clutching his shirt as the floodgates opened. Tears poured down your face, sobs wracking your body as weeks of fear, anger, and loneliness spilled out all at once.

His hand cradled the back of your head, his other arm locked tightly around your waist as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over, his words barely audible through his own tears. “I’m so sorry for being gone so long.”

You couldn’t respond, your voice lost to the ache in your chest. Instead, you buried your face in his shoulder, breathing him in, letting his presence ground you. He was here. He was real.

As you clung to him, your eyes drifted over his shoulder to the crib on the other side of the adjoining room. Wyeth was there, fast asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. Relief coursed through you like a tidal wave. He was safe.

Ekko’s voice pulled you back to him.

“I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you with all my heart. I love you in every universe.”

The last sentence made you pause. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your brows furrowing.

“What does that mean?”

His smile wavered, his hand brushing a tear from your cheek.

“I’ll explain everything,” he said softly. “But not tonight.”

You hesitated, but the exhaustion in his eyes—the weariness that mirrored your own—stilled your questions. Whatever it was, it could wait. For now, all that mattered was that he was here.

You melted back into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat steady against your own.

The night stretched on, the war outside the hideout forgotten for the time being.

Ekko hadn’t let go of you for hours, and you didn’t want him to. You sat together on the small bed in your shared room, Wyeth nestled between the two of you. He stirred occasionally.

Ekko watched him with an expression you couldn’t quite name—equal parts wonder and guilt.

“He’s gotten so big,” he murmured, his fingers gently tracing the soft curls on Wyeth’s head.

“You should have seen him a month ago,” you said, your voice light but tinged with lingering sadness. “He couldn’t stop rolling over. Drove me crazy.”

Ekko chuckled softly, his gaze flickering to yours.

“You’re incredible, you know that?”

You shook your head, brushing off the compliment, but he caught your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice firm. “You’ve held everything together while I was gone. Our son, the Firelights, the shelter—you did all of it.”

Tears pricked at your eyes again, but you bit them back.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

Ekko leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry I made you do it alone. I should’ve been here.”

“Then don’t leave again,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I won’t,” he said, the conviction in his tone wrapping around your heart like a promise. “Never again.”

For the first time in months, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. There were still so many questions, so many battles ahead, but for now, none of it mattered. Ekko was home.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The morning sun filtered through the hideout’s windows, despite the warmth of the new day, there was a heaviness in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the battle yet to come. People moved through the corridors in hushed tones, preparing for what was ahead, stealing fleeting moments of connection with those they held dear.

Ekko stood in the tiny kitchen, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of morning. The space was simple but functional—weathered counters, mismatched cabinets, and a small table barely big enough for two. Wyeth sat snug in his father’s arms, his tiny hands grasping at the bottle Ekko held steady.

Ekko had a way of moving that was both fluid and deliberate, like he carried the weight of the world with practiced ease. This morning, however, there was something different about him. His usually sharp eyes were softer, fixed on his son with a mix of love and wonder.

You stood just outside the doorway, your hand resting on the frame as you paused. You hadn’t intended to linger, but the sound of Ekko’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He wasn’t speaking to you—or anyone else for that matter. He was talking to Wyeth, his tone gentle, the words almost a lullaby.

“You know,” Ekko began, adjusting the bottle in Wyeth’s tiny hands, “where I was, everything was… different. Almost perfect, I guess.” He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if still trying to believe it himself. “Zaun wasn’t like this. No war. No infected trees. No fighting just to survive.”

Your brow furrowed as you leaned closer, trying to make sense of what he was saying. What did he mean by different?

Ekko continued, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen too much in too little time.

“It was wild, kiddo. My friends were alive. My family. Everyone I lost… they were all there. And Zaun?” He smiled wistfully. “Zaun was alive. Really alive. It was a city of light, not smoke. People thrived there, not just got by and your grandpa Benzo still had his shop, believe it or not,” he chuckled softly, though there was a sadness in it. “And I didn’t have to carry so much. No fight, no death.”

Your breath hitched as he spoke. Whatever he had experienced while he was gone, it had left its mark on him. You clenched your fists against the doorway, torn between wanting to step inside and wanting to hear more.

“But you know what I liked most about it?” Ekko asked, his smile softening as Wyeth gurgled in response. “Your mommy.”

Ekko’s gaze dropped to his son, his thumb brushing against the soft curls on Wyeth’s head.

“I loved her there, just like I love her here. Only difference is, in that world…” His voice trailed off for a moment, a faraway look in his eyes. “We were married.”

You froze, a sudden heat rising to your cheeks. Married?

“She was just as stubborn, though,” Ekko chuckled, shaking his head. “Still had that fire in her. Still drove me crazy, but in the best way.”

Married. You had never thought much about marriage—there hadn’t been time to. Survival always came first. But the way he spoke about it, the way he described you and him together in that other world…

Ekko shifted Wyeth in his arms, his expression growing fonder with every word.

“We had so much fun, you know? Playing with your other version. You were bigger there, running around and getting into all kinds of trouble. And you had a little sister.”

The revelation sent another jolt through you. A sister?

“Yep,” Ekko went on, his voice full of warmth. “Your mommy and I didn’t waste any time.” He let out a soft laugh, his grin mischievous. “And from the looks of it, we were about to get another little firefly. Your dad’s not the type to keep his hands off your mom, you know?”

Your face burned as you pressed yourself against the wall, your fingers gripping the edge of the doorframe. He couldn’t possibly mean… You shook your head as you tried to process his words.

Ekko’s voice turned playful, his tone carrying a knowing edge.

“It’s rude to spy, you know.”

Your breath caught, and you felt your stomach drop as he turned his head. His grin widened, as though he’d known you were there the whole time.

Caught red-handed, you straightened and pushed the door open fully, stepping into the room with your arms crossed.

“You’re lying,” you said, your voice laced with feigned annoyance.

Ekko turned, still cradling Wyeth in one arm. His eyes roamed over you, as though seeing you for the first time all over again. There was a softness in his expression, but also something deeper.

“You don’t believe me?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a faint smirk.

“Not a word.”

But there was something in his eyes, something intense and unyielding, that silenced the playful edge in your voice. He set the bottle down on the counter and held your gaze, his expression suddenly serious.

“You’re a lot like her, you know,” he said quietly. “But you’re not the same. You’re better.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you hesitated, feeling suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his gaze.

Then you straightened, fixing Ekko with a skeptical look.

“So, what? You just decided to leave this magical, perfect dimension where everything was great and come back here?”

Ekko’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yeah,” he said simply.

You blinked.

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t home,” he said, his voice steady, certain. “You and Wyeth—you’re my home.”

Ekko shifted Wyeth to one arm, freeing his other hand to reach out for you. You stepped closer, your heart racing as you looked at him—really looked at him. Despite the time apart, despite everything he had endured, he was still all yours.

“I’m here now,” he said, his voice steady. “And when we get through this, because I’m going to win the damn war if that means see this little guy growing again…” He paused, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’m going to marry you.”

The air left your lungs, the weight of his words crashing into you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, you reached out, brushing your fingers against the hand that held Wyeth, grounding yourself in the warmth of your family.

“Say something,” Ekko murmured, his lips curving into a small smile.

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill.

“You’re serious?”

“As serious as I’ve ever been.”

No matter how many worlds existed, no matter how different things might have been elsewhere, this was the one he chose.

This was his family.

And for Ekko, that was enough.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

tags: @serena6728 @theyluvkghanya @night-fall-moon @chaeisbroke

[seriallover]

Why certain people capture the spotlight?⭐️

1. The luminaries, the Sun and Moon naturally draw attention in a birth chart. People with strong Sun or Moon placements tend to light up any room they enter, effortlessly standing out.

Just like everyone loves capturing the beauty of a sunrise or the glow of a full moon, those with these placements have a magnetic energy that people can’t help but notice.

It’s almost like they’re always in the spotlight, which is why they often feel the need to look their best.☀️🌕

Beyoncé, Purva Phalguni Sun, Chitra Lagna and Venus.

Michael Jackson, Magha Sun and Shatabhisha Lagna.

Bella Hadid, Purva Phalguni Moon and Lagna.

There's not much to say about Beyoncé and Michael that isn't already well-known—they're icons in their own right, the biggest stars of our time. Bella Hadid has become the most photographed model off-duty and in 2022, she was named Model of the Year.

Gia Carangi, often hailed as the first true supermodel, paved the way for all the other supermodels that followed. She had a Shravana Sun and Lagnesh, with Hasta as her Lagna and a Shatabhisha Moon.

Britney Spears, Shravana Moon, was one of the most photographed stars for a while. The crazy amount of media attention even led to harassment and really affected her mental health.

Gisele Bündchen, Pushya Sun and Purva Phalguni Lagna, the only "Ubermodel"-that means being more than a supermodel.

Lauren Hutton, Pushya Moon and Lagna, holds the record for the most Vogue covers—26 in total.

I previously explored about how lunar-dominant people often achieve significant success on social media.

2. Chitra Nakshatra, known as the "Star of Opportunity," carries the Shakti of "accumulating merit." The word "Chitra" translates to "wonderful" and "pleasing to look at," as well as "illusion."

The deity of this nakshatra is Tvastar, the celestial architect who designed the universe. The symbol of Chitra is the "pearl" or "bright jewel," symbolizing beauty and uniqueness.💎💍

"Chitra" also means "picture," so individuals with this nakshatra are often naturally photogenic. 📸Tvastar, as the creator of Maya (illusion), grants those under Chitra the ability to craft captivating personas, making them talented models, photographers, actors, and successful on social media.

Kim Kardashian, Chitra Sun, built a career centered on her image. As one of the first influencers, she's become one of the most prominent and influential figures on social media. In 2015, she released “Selfish”, a book featuring a collection of her selfies.

Cindy Kimberly, Chitra Moon and Shravana Lagna, shot to fame because of her striking beauty. Her big break came when Justin Bieber posted about her on his Instagram. Now, she’s a major beauty influencer and a well-known model.

Anna Nicole Smith, Chitra Sun and Hasta Moon, made a name for herself as a model, completely based on her image. She was once one of the most photographed women in the world, and photographers loved working with her, often saying she was one of the easiest and most exciting people to capture on camera.

The thing with Chitra individuals is that, because of Tvastar, the celestial craftsman, their features often become iconic. For instance, Kim drew the attention to the BBL, Cindy’s nose has become a major inspiration for many women, and Anna Nicole brought attention back to curvy bodies at a time when the "heroin chic" look was in vogue, reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe's era.

3. Dhanishtha🌟 Shakti is "power to give abundance and fame," meaning "the most famous," "the most heard of." This nakshatra is recurring in the charts of people who usually marry famous individuals, making them well-known as well, often attracting more attention than their partner.

Princess Diana, Dhanishtha Moon and Magha Lagnesh, was the most photographed woman in the world, holding the record for the most sold-out paparazzi pictures, including one that sold for 6 million dollars.

Marilyn Monroe, Rohini Sun, Dhanishtha Moon, and Ashlesha Lagna, was also one of the most photographed women of her time.

4. Shatabhisha, meaning "hundred stars" and represented by a veiled star and an empty circle, is a nakshatra ruled by Rahu. ⭕️

This nakshatra is associated with illusion, the power to effect radical change, innovation, the foreign, esoteric influences, and trends. The empty circle can also symbolize the idea of a cult or community, like the Navy for Rihanna.

Rihanna, Shatabhisha Sun, stands out as one of the most influential artists and fashion icons. She has consistently set trends in the fashion world, with her style serving as an inspiration to many. Recently, her maternity looks have redefined how celebrities approach their appearance during pregnancy, bringing a stylish twist to the norm.

Demi Moore, Lagnesh in Shravana and Jupiter in Shatabhisha in the first house, set a trend for nude pregnancy photoshoots. At the time, this was quite controversial, but it has since become a common practice not just among celebrities, but also for non-celebrity women.

Elizabeth Taylor, Sun in Shatabhisha, was also a major target for paparazzi. George Hamilton once remarked:

"I remember when the word 'paparazzi' came along, and it just meant a bunch of guys who were all photographers looking for Elizabeth Taylor. Desperately looking for Elizabeth Taylor! And that was the beginning of paparazzi. They were not going for glamour anymore. They were going for the destruction of glamour."

[aventurineswife]

YOU NEED REQS??? I HAVE REQS

model aventurine X designer reader and like aventurine is basically reader’s muse and she legit starts to fall for him

A Beautiful Wager

Summary: As a celebrated designer, your work thrives on inspiration from the extraordinary, and Aventurine—model, IPC executive, and a walking enigma—proves to be the perfect muse. Beneath his charm and confident smirk lies a man of contradictions, and as your creative collaboration deepens, so does your bond. When the walls Aventurine hides behind begin to crack, you find yourself gambling on something more valuable than art: his heart.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn Romance, Designer x Model Dynamics, Mutual Pining, Flirty Banter, Emotional Vulnerability.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, Emotional manipulation, Themes of self-doubt and trust issues, Subtle exploration of power dynamics.

The golden glow of Penacony’s fading sunlight streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of your studio, painting the room with a surreal warmth. Rolls of luxurious fabric spilled across the tables, and half-finished designs cluttered the walls, each sketch a testament to your restless creativity. At the center of it all stood him—Aventurine.

He leaned casually against the fitting stand, his long overcoat draped over one shoulder, golden jewelry catching the light. His eyes sparkled with a mischief that seemed to challenge the very laws of fate. “So,” he purred, voice smooth and tinged with amusement, “am I the perfect muse, or is my reputation doing all the work?”

You laughed, though his question wasn’t entirely untrue. Aventurine had become both a fascination and an enigma for you. As a designer, you sought inspiration in the rare and extraordinary, and he was all of that—and more. His flamboyant charm, the intricate details of his appearance, even the way he adjusted his glasses with a knowing smirk—it all captivated you.

“I wouldn’t call you perfect,” you teased, stepping closer with a measuring tape. “But you’re close enough.”

Aventurine grinned, tilting his head to let the light catch the peacock feather earring that dangled from his ear. “Close enough? My, my, darling, that stings. I’ll have you know, the IPC considers me the definition of perfection.”

“Perfection isn’t always inspiring,” you replied, your voice laced with a quiet sincerity that caught him off guard. “Flaws, contradictions—those are what make people fascinating. Like you.”

For a brief moment, Aventurine’s mask slipped. His ever-present smile softened, and something unspoken flickered in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual devil-may-care bravado. “I’m flattered. Truly. Tell me, do I inspire chaos or brilliance?”

“Both,” you admitted, stepping back to admire your work. You’d chosen a deep emerald-green fabric for his ensemble, tailored to emphasize his sleek frame and finished with intricate golden embroidery that echoed the roulette wheel motif he favored. As you adjusted the final piece, your fingers brushed against his wrist.

It was subtle, but you felt him tense under your touch.

“Do you always gamble this much on your work?” he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Only when the stakes are high,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

“And what’s at stake here?” Aventurine leaned in slightly, the playful edge in his tone giving way to something deeper.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity of his question. His eyes searched yours, no longer masked by his usual flamboyance. For the first time, you glimpsed the man behind the facade—the vulnerability, the pain, the weight of secrets he carried.

“You...” you said softly.

The word hung between you, delicate yet unyielding. Aventurine’s expression shifted, the cracks in his armor widening as he considered your answer. He could dismiss it, turn it into another joke, another game—but he didn’t.

Instead, he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in a gesture that felt both tentative and deliberate. “Careful, darling,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with warning. “You might win more than you bargained for.”

You smiled, refusing to let him retreat behind his walls. “Good. I don’t design for safe bets.”

Aventurine chuckled, the sound soft and genuine, and for the first time, his smile felt real. “Well then,” he said, his voice a mix of challenge and admiration, “let’s see if you can outplay me.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as the two of you stood there, a designer and their muse caught in a moment that felt like the beginning of something neither of you could fully understand—yet neither of you could walk away from.

[corruptedcaps]

Model Behaviour

Liam paced his tiny workshop, his fingers twitching nervously as he glanced at the nearly completed bodysuit hanging in front of him. The latex and silicone masterpiece shimmered under the harsh overhead light, an uncanny recreation of the fictional supermodel girlfriend he’d spent the past year bragging about.

Maddy sat on a stool, arms crossed, her expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief.

“This is insane, Liam, I can’t believe I’m even considering this.” She said.

Liam stopped pacing and turned to her, pleading. “Maddy, you’re my best friend. You know I didn’t mean for this to happen. It just… got out of hand.”

“You could’ve just told the truth at any point,” Maddy shot back. “Instead, you built that.” She gestured at the suit.

“I panicked, okay? And now, if I don’t show up with ‘Sophie,’ my career is over. They’ll never take me seriously again.” He said, his face distraught at the thought.

Maddy sighed, shaking her head. “Ok fine let’s do it.” Liam lit up with excitement.

“The suit’s fully functional. It even has built-in voice modulation. You’ll look, sound, and… act just like her.”

“Wait, act?” Maddy raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

Liam hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “I may have added a… personality enhancer. You know, to make you more convincing. A touch of… um… supermodel flair.”

Maddy’s eyes narrowed. “Define ‘supermodel flair.’”

“There’s no time, just know it’s just a little conditioning to help you out is all.” He said hoping his house of cards won’t topple.

Maddy glared at him but stood up. “This better not mess with my head, Liam. If I end up on a therapist’s couch because of this, you’re paying the bill.”

“Noted,” Liam said, handing her the suit. “Now, let’s get you suited up.”

Minutes later, Maddy stood in front of the mirror, transformed. The suit hugged her frame perfectly, the flawless blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Her lips were pouty, her posture effortlessly poised. She turned slowly, her reflection almost unrecognizable.

She placed a hand on her chest, running her fingers over her impressive boobs. “That’s… me?” Her voice, now sultry and smooth, startled her.

“Pretty convincing, huh?” Liam said nervously from behind her. “You look incredible.”

Maddy tilted her head, studying herself. A sly smile crept onto her lips. “Of course I am. Incredible doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Liam frowned. “Maddy? You okay?”

Maddy adjusted the shimmering blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her heart pounding as she stared at her transformed reflection. This was her chance, the closest she’d ever get to being Liam’s girlfriend, even if it was just pretend. It was the main reason she had agreed to do it in the first place.

And yet as she gazed at her new and improved body a voice in the back of her head was telling her that Liam didn’t deserve her now that she could have any man she wanted now. The voice made her hunger.

“Of course I do, darling.” She purred, her modulated voice smooth and sultry. She struck a playful pose, a mix of teasing and allure. It felt incredibly natural. “Now can we get going, I NEED to be seen.”

A few hours later Liam stood near the drinks table, awkwardly nursing a glass of sparkling water as his coworkers mingled around him. His eyes kept darting to Maddy, who was currently surrounded by a captivated crowd, her laugh ringing through the air like music.

She was wearing the dress that she demanded he buy her on the way to the party. A shorter than short red dress that she insisted was festive but also showed off her long legs and ample chest. She was the center of attention, and Liam could hardly believe how flawlessly Maddy had pulled this off, or rather, how flawlessly the suit had.

As he watched her endless charm his colleagues, his boss, David, sauntered over to Maddy with a confident grin. David was tall, broad-shouldered, and had a reputation for his charm. Liam’s stomach sank as he watched David lean in, clearly flirting.

“Liam, she’s stunning!” Claire from accounting exclaimed, sidling up beside him, blocking his view of Maddy. “You were underselling her. No wonder you were so smitten.”

“Uh, yeah, she’s, uh… one of a kind.” Liam muttered, forcing a smile.

“So, Sophie, Liam’s been keeping you a secret from us for too long. What do you do?” David asked, his voice smooth.

Maddy tilted her head, a playful smile curving her lips. She was drinking in David. A man like him would never have took a second look at a girl like her before. A girl like Maddy.

“Oh but you’re not Maddy anymore remember?” The voice said in her mind, now louder than before. “You’re Sophie a beauty queen, who knows a king when she sees them.”

The words weee accompanied by a dumping of endorphins that made her eyes flutter a little and a soft moan pass through her lips.

“Are you alright?” David asks with actual concern.

Maddy felt a flush of lust come over here as concern etched David’s face. “Mmm I’m sorry, it’s just I was taken by your good looks for a moment. It’s made me light headed.” She said biting her bottom lip at him. He looked a little taken aback by it himself but was still intrigued.

Placing his hand on her lower back he started to guide her way from the noise of the party. “Why don’t you sit down? I know the perfect place.” He said to her with a knowing smirk which she returned.

Meanwhile Liam was still trying to break away from his conversation with Claire. “I know why don’t I introduce you.” He finally said after ten minutes of her gushing about how amazing ‘Sophie’ looks.

However as he glanced back toward where Maddy had been he found her to be gone. His eyes scanned the room frantically until he spotted her. He left Claire to go deeper into the office, far from where the office party noise was. However as that sound died, a new one took its place. The sound of a woman moaning and panting.

Liam turned the corner and saw Maddy sitting on David’s lap, jumping up and down as she moaned like a wanton whore.

Liam froze, his stomach flipping. “No. No, no, no…”

He pushed through the cubicles, his mind racing. By the time he burst through the door, Maddy was running her fingers through her hair as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, climaxing and completely lost in the moment.

“Sophie!” Liam blurted.

She pulled back, her expression still utter bliss as her orgasm settled. However as the afterglow of it faded so too did her euphoria, as it shifted into something cool and indifferent. But also something else in her eyes that Liam couldn’t place. “Oh, Liam. There you are.”

David looked between them, smirking. “Sorry, buddy. Didn’t realize she was off-limits.”

“She’s… she’s my girlfriend!” Liam stammered, his voice trembling.

Maddy raised a perfectly arched brow. “Girlfriend? Liam, don’t be so possessive. It’s unbecoming.”

Liam blinked, stunned. “What?”

David chuckled as he did up his pants. He clapped Liam on the shoulder, as he said “Relax, Liam. She’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly?!” Liam’s voice rose. “You were fucking!”

Maddy sighed dramatically, turning back to David. “He’s always so sensitive. Isn’t it adorable?”

David laughed, clearly amused.

“Meet me back at the party hot stuff.” She said, kissing David on the lips in front of an irate Liam. David smacked her on the ass as he sauntered out back to the party.

Liam’s face burned with embarrassment and frustration. “Maddy, what the hell are you doing?”

“Maddy? Who the hell is Maddy? Have you had one too many cosmos?” She said sharply, her voice dripping with condescension.

“This isn’t you!” Liam hissed, lowering his voice. “It’s the suit messing with your head.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. “What suit? What the hell are you talking about?”

Liam froze, the words catching in his throat. “The suit, you’re wearing a suit! I built it, remember? You’re not really… this. You’re Maddy!”

She laughed, a harsh, hollow sound that made his stomach churn. “You’ve lost it, Liam. Is this ‘Maddy’ one of your friends you have a crush on or something?”

“No, no, no!” He stammered, his voice cracking. “You’re Maddy! You’re my best friend! We put this plan together, remember? You’re wearing a suit that I—”

“Stop it!” She snapped, her eyes blazing. “Do you hear how insane you sound? A suit? Ugh… at least you losing the plot will make this a lot easier.”

Liam looked at her confused. “Make what easier?”

Maddy let a smirk curl up on her lips, clearly revelling in what she was about to do. “We’re done. Honestly I don’t know why we were even together in the first place.”

Liam shook his head, his pulse pounding in his ears. “Maddy, listen to me. You’re not thinking clearly. The suit, it’s altering your mind. You have to fight it.”

She took a step closer, towering over him in her heels, her presence somehow larger than life. “You’re pathetic.” She said, her voice low and cutting. “You can’t handle the fact that I’ve outgrown you. That I don’t need you. You’re the one who’s confused, Liam. Not me.”

His heart sank as she turned on her heel and strutted back toward the party, her laughter floating over the sound of the music.

Liam stood there, frozen, his mind racing. She didn’t remember the suit. She didn’t remember who she really was. She was Sophie, his perfect girlfriend who wanted nothing to do with him.

[simphornies]

Glitchy [ Vox x F!Reader ] pt. 2 (NSFW)

A/N: Was not expecting the attention the last one got. I already had a part 2 in my head as soon as I posted it. Sorry if the writing is off! I'm a bit rusty. Enjoy!

MINORS DNI

Warnings: smut, teasing, light bondage(?), oral, creampie

Velvette's fashion show was ongoing. She somehow set you up to model one of her latest pieces as the grand finale. You liked to dress up but being in front of crowds that didn't involve killing made you nervous. "C'mon bitch! Are you ready?" She switches up your hair into a fitting updo, showing off your TV wire inspired earrings. "Oh Vox is going to love this one." To be honest, you did want to tease Vox a little bit to get back at him for spying on you. Valentino sneaked you into his office while he was asleep at his desk and you saw that most of the cameras were paused on you. "Did you really put on a whole show to fuck with him?" You asked, straightening out the skirt she had you put on, "And does this outfit have to be this short. You know I don't like showing off too much skin. Gives too much to look at." Your statement made Velvette and Valentino laugh, "Babe, with a body like that you should be showing off. It's almost a crime to keep them hidden." Val slaps your ass and pushed you towards the curtain, "You're almost up, knock Vox dead. Do that move I showed you too."

You rolled your eyes at them and walked away. Val looks down at Velvette, "$100 bucks if he short-circuits." She grinned, "$100 if he gets up and they fuck later." The two shook on their deal and walked around to get to their seats.

Vox didn't typically sit for Velvette's shows but you had asked him to show up because of a piece you said you wanted him to see. The two other Vees sit next to him, "You look like you're having the time of your life, Vox." Val teased. "Fuck off, if Y/N didn't ask me to be here, I wouldn't be. Where is she anyways? I would expect her to be here considering she wants me to see this piece so bad." Velvette gasps, "Wow. So you wouldn't even show up to my show if I told you to come? I'm so hurt." Her words filled with sarcasm. "Shut up. It's almost time for her part."

Vox blinked, "What? What do you mean he-" Her finger covered his mouth and Val moved his head to look at the stage, blowing out some smoke for "effect" as you make your way down the catwalk.

You donned a gorgeous off shoulder top that showed too much, or too little as Val would say, of your cleavage. A skin tight skirt that rode up a little bit as you walked the catwalk hugged your hips. Above your skirt, the strings of your thong (that Velvette insisted you wore) peeked over adding a little extra flair. And the best part? You were of course in Vox's signature colors. You did a spin showing off the outfit and scanned the crowd. Your eyes locked with Vox's and you smirked as you thought about what Val taught you hours before. You bent over in his direction, one hand on your knee and one hand on your hip. You spun on your red bottom heels and posed one last time for the cameras, looking at Vox before leaving him with a wink. You looked away as soon as you see his screen glitch, red liquid oozing from the side of his mouth.

After the show, you put on a mesh coat. Velvette came running at you with a hug, "You did wonderful! I knew you could nail that. Have you seen the ratings?" She whipped out her phone with an article raving about the latest show with you front and center of the pictures, "The people love you! And the sales are coming in." You smiled, happy that you impressed the fashion critic herself. "Glad I could make you proud, Velv." Claps came from behind you and you turn to see Valentino and Vox, walking side by side. "Amazing work, sweetie. You nailed the tit show." He smiled, giving you a hug as well. "Thanks Val. I would never have done that move if you didn't teach me the art of captivating an audience with my tits. You're the master." You elbowed the tall sex demon. "So, did you like the show Vox?" You looked up at him, trying to make the eye contact that he wasn't reciprocating. "Come on~ Did my tits glitch you out." You teased. He cleared his throat, finally making eye contact with you with his signature smile. "I already knew you were hot, baby. I love the color combo." He gives you a hug, whispering into your ear, "Did you do that on purpose to fuck with me?" "Pfff. Me? Why would I ever do such a thing?" You spin around and pulled Velvette close to you, arm over her shoulder, "Besides, I'm not the fashion genius here. She is." Velvette gave him a teasing look and laughed, "Oh I would never! You're reading too much into it. Now shoo, Y/N and I have an afterparty to go to!"

You weren't a fan of parties but Velvette insisted you come. Well, she bribed you with some drinks. You grab a glass of wine and walked out of the club to get a breath of fresh air. As you scrolled through your phone, you see from the corner of your eye a familiar red figure walking towards you. It was the radio demon himself, Alastor. "Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite the pleasure!" He grabs your hand to shake it, "I've seen your influence around town from the latest fashion show put on by the overlord Velvette and might I say you're quite the stunning lady." He plants a kiss on the back of your hand. You had your guards up, this was Alastor. The demon that brought down overlords as soon as he manifested into hell. What the fuck could he want from you? "Thank you for the praise." You say as you pull your hand away from him, "What can I do for you, Alastor sir?" You back up slightly, taking steps back towards the entrance of the club hoping Velvette could see the predicament you're in. "Nothing too much. I just have a couple of...questions for you, my dear!" He grins menacingly, "You seem to be in close quarters with Vox, would you like to make a deal?" You scoff, "A deal? I'm not stupid. I'm not making a deal with you. What do you want?" "Would you like to go on a little outing with me?" "A what." "An outing! A gorgeous doll such as yourself must be exhausted having to deal with that annoyingly loud picture show." He was talking about Vox, "I could show you a better time. I can give you aid taking down all those who you wish if you permit me." Before you could answer, a glowing blue circle appears at your feet plunging you down to hell knows where. You land in Vox's lap, his face glitching with rage. "That fucker--Thank the seven rings I was watching around the club you were at." "Vox I-" "That little prick! I'll show him he shouldn't mess around with the Vees! That motherfucker-" "Vox." "-is lucky I wasn't there!" He chuckles, his one eye going crazy at the thought of Alastor hurting you. "Vox!" You yell, finally getting his attention. He seemed to have forgotten you were still in his lap in his fit of rage. He looks down at you, blushing a bit as you were still in the clothes from the fashion show. "Can you let me down please. Your little desk is cramped and I can't get myself off without getting tangled in your cords." Vox, in a panic, backs his chair up, a cord getting caught in one of the wheels and throwing you both back. He catches your head with his hand as to not hurt it. "Fuck. My bad. I was ju-" He cuts himself off noticing the position you're both in and the state of your clothes. He was on top of you and your top got yanked down a bit which meant your tits are now in full view. Not to mention the fact that you somehow got wrapped up in his cables. Him glitching at the sight of you made you smirk, "You like what you see? Or are you too angry at the radio demon talking to me to notice anything?" You cockily said before laughing, pulling your top up to put your tits away, "Now can you help me out of your cables, please?" Vox didn't move. He was frozen. You thought that maybe he short circuited. "Hello? Vox?" You place your hand on his screen, trying to knock him out of his daze, "Vox are you in the-" Before you could say another word he pins your wrist down above your head as he crashes his lips on yours. You melt against his, returning his affection. You taste a faint hint of mint on his tongue as he wraps it around yours, almost battling for a spot in your mouth.

When he pulls away, you were out of breath. You watch his eyes scan your body and take in the sight. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself to you. You just look...so hot right now." He says, taking his hand off of your wrists and trying to back up to free you. Your eyes wander and notice the bulge in his pants. A dirty thought crossing your mind. "If I look so hot, why don't you do something about it." You smirk up at him, gently guiding your knee over his bulge, sending shivers down his spine. "I'm stuck Vox, helpless under you. You really going to throw this golden opportunity away for both of us?" You teased. Vox composes himself and lets out a low chuckle, the antenna on his head letting out some sparks. "You've been driving me insane all day, babe." He speaks in a low tone, his voice turning you on. You feel around above you and grab the nearest cables and tangle your wrists in it, "Show me what you can do, Vox."

He didn't hesitate to undo his bowtie. He took off your top, tossing them to the side before lifting up your skirt. He was taken aback at the thongs you were wearing, they matched his shirt. "Did Velvette put this one on you too?" He asks as he caresses your inner thigh. You purr at his touch, "Mmm...No. Those ones are mine. I got them after your confession~" "You know how to drive me crazy." He slides your thongs off and lightly drags his finger over your slit, making you shiver in excitement. "Now it's my turn to drive you crazy." His blue tongue sticks out of his screen and goes straight into eating you out, relishing your taste. You suppress your moans as to not let anybody else hear. "Be loud, this room is soundproof."

His tongue enters you and swirls around, driving you as crazy as you've been driving him. You squirm in pleasure as the overlord feasts upon you, licking up all the juices. You feel a knot forming in your stomach, your face flushing in delight, "Ah. V-Vox." You moan out, "I-I'm gonna-" He doesn't stop one bit, if anything it seems like he sped up. The knot grew tighter and tighter until you came all over his face. He pulls away, grinning as he looks at your shaking body.

"Let's go somewhere, more comfortable for you." He untangles you with ease, besides your wrists, and teleports the two of you into his already locked bedroom. He plops you down on the bed before taking his pants off, his cock leaking pre-cum. You drool at the sight of his length, "Come here." You say, still a bit out of breath, as you get on your knees for him. "Giving me orders now?" He chuckles as he got closer to your face, his cock resting on your cheek, "Is this what you want, babe?" You look up at him with lust filled eyes before you take him into your mouth, tongue wrapping around his length as you your head up and down. He grabs your hair, making sure it stays out of your face as he looks down at you sucking him, "What a good girl," He purrs, caressing your cheek. You pick up your speed, eager to taste him. Vox grunts in pleasure, thrusting his hips as he pushed himself deeper into you, "Make sure you take every last drop." He grabs your head and starts fucking your face deeper as he gets closer. His cock twitched before letting a load down your throat. He pulls himself out of you, your lips making a pop as he did. You open your mouth to show him what was left, closing it to swallow and opening it back up again to show him that you didn't leave a single drop. He puts his hand under your chin, "Now ass up, sweetheart." You wasted no second getting into position for him. You've been dying to take his cock ever since he confessed to you. Ever since you found out he watched you on his screens. Ever since you laid eyes on him actually. "You're drenched, babe." He grins as he rubs his tip at your entrance, "Beg." You whine and wiggle your hips, trying to see if you can slide him in yourself. He grabbed your hips firmly, slapping your ass, "I said, BEG." he demanded. "Please Vox." "Please what?" He teased his tip, pushing just a little bit in, "What do you want? Speak up." "Please fuck me senseless, Vox. Please." You pleaded in desperation. He grabs your hair, pulling your head up closer so he can whisper in your ear, "Good girl." God the way his voice changes sent shockwaves through out your body.

He enters you slowly, "I'm going to make your entire body glitch the way you made me glitch." He was relentless. Torturing you almost. He picked up his speed and started pounding into you. You moaned in delight, enjoying how rough he was with you. "Faster, please Vox." Your request filled with pleasure, "Vox. Pl-please!" He slaps your ass in response, letting go of your hair and holding your head down on the bed, "Since you asked so nicely." He kept himself at a quick pace, taking in the sight of you drooling on his sheets. He pulls out of you to flip you over, you were about to whine but him suddenly filling you back up again stopped that quick.

Your walls tightened around him, "You're so tight. Are you gonna cum for me like a good girl?" Your brain was turning into mush, rendering you unable to form a real response. The only sounds coming from your mouth were ineligible slurred words and moans. "I'm going to fill you up as deep as I can. I'm making you mine." He growls, pinning your tied wrists above your head. He plants on your chest before licking your exposed chest. He leaves hickies all over your chest, marking this night on your body for only him to see. You feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach again and you're positive he can feel it too. He grunts as he thrusted into you with reckless abandon, pounding you senseless into his mattress.

"V-Vox. Pl-please." He kisses you with as much passion as he could give as you cum around his cock, tightening your walls so much you squeeze him dry as he released his fluids deep into you. The electricity crackled as soon as he came before everything powered down around you. He pulls away from you, resting his head on your neck as he tried to catch his breath. You can see the light emitting from his face flickering different colors.

He pulls out of you, his cum flowing out. He grabs a towel to clean you off as well as he was able to before cleaning himself off. He unties your wrist before plopping down next to you. You nuzzle up next to him. The city lights turn back on and the light seeped into his room. He seems to have kept the lights off in the room. You feel his arm wrap around you. You look up at him, hand resting on his chest.

"Was the teasing worth it or what?" You asked, giggling a little bit. "Hell yeah it did. I'm so glad I sat through the whole show just for you." He sighs contently, pulling you closer to him. "Will you run this entire hell with me, dear?"

"Gladly, Vox."

Valentino groans as he sends over $100 to Velvette. "You of all people should know he wasn't going to be able to pussy out this time." She grins.

[problematic-faves-appreciation]

The definition of a romance novel: a story centered around the non-platonic relationship between two (or many) characters — with a guaranteed happy or hopeful ending for the main couple.

Those are the chief requirements needed for a story to be considered a romance!

Romances are not equivalent to...

• "endorsement".

• a "good guy" hero. No. In a romance, the term "hero" simply refers to the male love interest/main male protagonist of that story.

• "boyfriend material".

• female characters who "should be" role models for the readers, especially young women.

• an ideal (healthy) relationship.

• "relationship goals IRL!"

• didactic.

• an instruction manual.

• a substitute for sex education.

• wholesomeness all around.

• cozy fiction.

• dark-themes-free.

• "being especially dangerous to women" because this genre glamorizes subject matter that isn't okay nor legal IRL. Like, people play video games which glamorize crime and violence, but they don't get nowhere near the same amount of shit that romance novel and fanfiction readers do for doing the SAME EXACT THING as them: enjoying the fictional depiction of whatever, not its real-life counterpart.

As such, dark romance is still a romance, no matter how much certain people clutch their pearls about the messed up couples, and dark themes and tropes (cruel heroes, stalking, kidnapping, captivity, abuse, non-consent, trauma bonding) this genre has to offer. If a dark romance novel contains the central love story and happily ever after elements mentioned above, then sorry not sorry. That's a romance.

[st4vk1nmybra1n]

Muse.

Pairing: Model!Gojo x sculpturist!reader

Wc: 7k!

Cont: fluff, (sort of) slowburn, friends to lovers, part two of my previous model!gojo x reader, can be read as a standalone fic! Ending alludes to a separate fic with geto x reader bcs i can't resist it..

author's note: Contains in-depth information about how I perceive both gojo and geto’s (and even reader's) way of expressing art. In depth talks about their upbringings and backgrounds, amateur’s take on art so please feel free to provide feedback!! Comments are very much appreciated! Overall just very long and detailed fic. Please enjoy <33

Geto Suguru wasn't a man who put himself out there for the world. Unlike his friend, Satoru, Suguru was more to himself. He wasn't reserved, per se. He just had a greater preference to keep his theatrics and jokes to his friend group. Don’t get him wrong, he loves annoying his friends as much as his best friend, but he preferred to keep that side of him as something mainly for his friends. Unless it slipped out in the moment, Suguru wasn't going to tease or get overly cheeky. That’s just how he was. Not that it mattered much, though. He wasn’t the famous one, that was Satoru! And really, he was happier this way. He was content with his life so far, and he didn’t have the desire to change that aspect.

Being Gojo Satoru’s bestest friend ever (Satoru’s words, not his) came with a little bit of attention, regardless of whether it was something you wanted. And when you’re as alluring as Suguru, it’s inevitable! He’d had multiple offers in commercials and photoshoots, as nobody seemed to be immune to his charm. Maybe Satoru was getting to his head, but Suguru likes to think he has his own good looks that people seek out. He was almost the opposite visual of his friend, funnily enough. While Satoru had short, snowy white hair, Suguru had long, black tresses. While Satoru had frosty lashes, and big, bright blue eyes, Suguru had slanted, smaller and darker eyes. Though when the sun hits, they seem to have a purple gleam to them. While Satoru had milky, pale and untouched skin, Suguru had tan skin, rough at the hands, piercings in his ears and on his lips, along with a few scattered, intricate tattoos over the skin on his arms and back, his entire frame littered all over with freckles and moles. While satoru’s build was tall, lanky yet still well muscled, suguru’s build was an inch or two shorter, but more muscled. Even despite such differences, the two paired well together, contrasting the other beautifully.

It was clear there weren't many similarities in their looks besides the fact that the media thirsted over the fact that the both of them were hot. Another common interest was teasing and annoying their friends together, though Suguru tended to tire out of the activity 10 minutes in, only to sabotage Satoru and start bullying him. Another thing the two could silently agree on was their appreciation of art. Art, a form of expression that captures the beauty and essence of the object of one’s affection or fascination. While the two had different preferences for the type of art they enjoyed, they could appreciate the other’s outlook, even sometimes gaining an interest in it.

Satoru admired the art of a physical muse, the art of presenting a face or a body in a manner that captivates the viewer. The idea of filmography, photography, drawing, painting, and sculpting statues being centered around a physical being was something that made him feel alive. The ways of capturing a creature in so many colors, so many emotions. It all appealed to him. The sensuality of a sculpture or a photograph shot at just the right angle that made it a phenomenal art piece is something that always stood out to him. Sensuality and sexuality was something that Satoru considered natural, it didn’t phase him or arouse him in most circumstances, it only ignited a sense of admiration and appreciation for art. Satoru was confident in his sexuality, he held the form of expression to high regards, often channeling the feeling whenever he modeled.

Suguru on the other hand, had an appreciation for art that presented in the form of something non-human, yet so humane. Capturing the beauty of scenic views in a painting, or in a photograph or drawing was what stood out most to him. To see the ways one could imagine the same exact thing. While colors were great, he preferred neutrality, minimal color. Even with the lack of bursting and animated pops of color, grasping an object in the palm of your hand and honing it in the way you envision is more satisfying than he’d like to admit. That was the main reason he owned a tattoo and piercing parlor, to be able to engrave his art in the form of ink onto someone else for them to share that sense of admiration. It brought him joy, more than anything. Aside from doing tattoos and piercings, he did photography on the side with Satoru as his main muse. Satoru had a look to him that was just enough to stand out perfectly in front of plain colors, making suguru’s photography easy on the eyes and minimal. Perfect enough to satisfy both their preferences.

It was an arrangement the two had since they were 16, starting soon after the two had become friends. Suguru seldom captured shots of his other friends too, but Satoru had an annoying tendency to actually boost Suguru’s inspiration to create art. The two would constantly inspire the other to work, continuously driving one another to be at their fullest potential. They were stubborn as hell too, always wanting their own way instead of what the other wanted. Though as always, they would come to a sort of compromise, creating a mesh between their two styles and medium. Though, Satoru preferred to be the object of someone's desire, wanting art to live on vicariously through his body, using it as a vessel to perform and present himself as someone's muse, a piece styled and perfected so tediously to how one envisioned him to be fitting, while Suguru had a knack for capturing said art.

Suguru came from quite a liberalized background, his parents being way more laid back and open minded than the average family in japan. For that sole reason, Suguru was able to express himself adequately and comfortably, and he was quite self aware and emotionally intelligent. Having such a freedom to think, and understanding the weight of that trust his parents bestowed upon him from giving him room for self expression made him even more conscious of the decisions he took and put time into. He was quite comfortable in his identity, and had no qualms against discussing topics that many may consider taboo. That's just how he was, what else could he say?

Now on the other end of the spectrum, Satoru was brought up very traditionally and conservatively. The Gojo family was a well known family amongst your everyday crowd. Derogatory and narrow-minded statements were shoved down Satoru's throat routinely, irritating him to no end. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that women weren't inferior, or that anybody who wasn't a "pure" japanese was a disgrace. Things like these were common knowledge to him by the age of 7, and he frankly couldn't care less about how the higher ups in his clan felt about women showing their ankles. Modesty and impurity were just, and anything else was blasphemous and an insult in the Gojo estate. Of course, Satoru didn't agree. So when he had met Geto Suguru, who had asked Satoru for a mini photoshoot, the white haired male agreed.

But what he didn't expect was to be handed a tight fit tank top. He wasn't uncomfortable by any means, just surprised. It was a pleasant surprise compared to the loose, traditional clothing he was forced to wear. Suguru was quite well versed in the latest of fashion trends, and Satoru was eager to learn more and change up his wardrobe in hopes of irritating the higher ups. Sooner or later, he got his first professional modeling gig. For the shoot, he wore white, loose cloth draped over his frame. Depicting him as angelic. That in itself was blasphemous, but the lack of coverage from the cloth would probably incite even more outrage amongst the elders of the Gojo clan. Belatedly, he'd realize just how happy he felt with the end result of his photoshoot. What once was an act of getting under the skin of his relatives, became an outlet of self expression that he never got to let out.

No sooner than later, Gojo Satoru had risen to fame, and was known as one of the most beautiful men out there, and he relished in the attention and the excitement he felt of being seen in such a light. The feeling of expensive silk garments draped over him, or the lack thereof, was exhilarating. Giving him the endorphins rush he craved constantly. The intricacy behind being styled with shawls and robes of fabric, or with minimal fabric, maybe something more daring like chains placed against his skin strategically, the glint of the metal against his skin only highlighting his milky skin. Sometimes in intricate, strappy belts or ropes around his frame. While daring and promiscuous, he was never opposed. He liked the idea of being presented to the world in many ways. He knew he looked good, anyway.

On the other hand, there was you; while not much of a model, you had a keen eye for arts like your two friends. You were a sculpturist; meticulously carving and molding out figures and statues with utmost dedication. You enjoyed working in the field, and it paid well enough. Sure, it was fun to paint and draw, but you much preferred sculpting. To bring a creation to life by creating a proper vessel in a three-dimensional form, was something else of its own.

You lived a life that seemed to be pretty ordinary, up in the beginning at least. Your parents weren't completely strict, they were pretty okay with most of your decisions. Alas, you grew up getting to indulge in your interests to a certain degree. That was only amplified when you'd made your friends in highschool. Having friends like Suguru, Satoru, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara and Utahime; it was nice. You guys were always close, pushing one another to do better than the last time. That's just how it was. You were close with Shoko and Satoru the most, finding yourself easily conversing with the two at all times. Not that you couldn't with the rest, but you just felt a click with the two.

And of course, overtime, that grew into something more with Satoru. It was like you were attached at the hip at times, running around the whole area surrounding your guys’ school to explore and find things to entertain yourself with. On some occasions, Suguru would join you. On those days, he and Satoru would look around for things to photograph, maybe use as a backdrop for their photography. On the days it was just you and Satoru, you both would wander around aimlessly, talking about anything and everything. Often, you'd talk about Satoru's shitty family, and his love and passion for beauty. You talked about your future and its possibilities, about what you wanted to do and what you saw yourself doing. Of course, it changed over the course of the years. Satoru had wanted to be seen by the world; perhaps as an actor. That stayed for a while, until he was cast for a modeling gig later on.

You had always been uncertain of your future, trying hard not to think about it too much, to avoid thinking way too much into the future. You preferred living in the present, alongside your friends. It was on one certain day during a sculpting class you had that you took often, where you were working on expressions. Making sculptures look realistic went hand in hand with learning the ins and outs of the body– understanding bodily anatomy was necessary for a detailed creation, and you were stubborn. When you started something, you needed to be good at it. Good enough to be proud of your work. And that took effort. So you dedicated hours and hours to sculpting. Working meticulously on your current piece, you thought deeply about how you wanted to do these features.

Carefully, you had sliced some clay from the face, smoothing it down to blend in seamlessly with the rest of the features. You carefully sculpted out the nose as well. Small, pointed with a soft slope going from the top to the tip. You carefully blurred out the lip lines, making a softer Cupid's bow. You defined the philtrum, carefully pressing into it. Then, you worked on sharpening the jawline, yet making it feel as human as it could be. After an hour or so of working on those details, you snap out of your trance with a sigh. You pull away, inhaling sharply at the work in front of you. Belatedly, you realized how similar it looked to your friend, Satoru. You were enchanted by it. You'd drawn and painted your friends before, but to create a human-like head so similar to one of your friends, like a statue signifying their importance to you– it was something you'd never thought to do.

When learning how to draw expressions and faces, you had to practice creating ethnic features and unique qualities, just to perfect the art of diversity. This was your first time creating a piece inspired by your friend. At least in the form of clay. And it was beautiful. You had dedicated hours and hours to this piece, and it was like you were short of breath as you saw this. It was unlike anything you'd envisioned before. That was the moment you had realized just how much you loved doing this. And as you sat alone in your class, having been the last to stay, you gazed upon your creation, your heartbeat accelerating just at the beautiful sight of it. Your friend was gorgeous, but creating this piece was like taking a piece of him from your memories, etching him upon the canvas that was the clay. In a way, you felt your love for said friend to grow more and more. The whole process felt more and more intimate, dedicating time to a statue of your friend. It wasn't just a regular drawing or painting, this was a piece of your heart, your blood, your sweat, and even your tears. The realization that you finally felt sure about what you wanted to do– it warmed your heart, your eyes growing cloudy with tears.

“Ah. You've finished. It's beautiful. This is your friend, is it not? Satoru, was it?” Your teacher had asked, to which you blinked, letting out a laugh and a nod as you wiped your eyes. It was. And the fact that it was recognizable not just to you but to other onlookers had made you feel accomplished. You sat there in silence, staring upon your work for half an hour after you'd finished, just taking it in. Eventually, you'd packed up your things and gone back home, still dazed from the burst of emotions it had caused you. But that was just the start of your obsession, and you only grew more and more dedicated to your craft. And eventually, you too had found what you'd wanted to do, just like your friend and your muse, Satoru.

The studio you worked in was spacious, quite empty, built reminiscent of an actual museum. You had a few occasional pieces around in the studio, consisting of statues of your friends and a few more abstract pieces here and there. Adding to the ambience of your work, it made for a peaceful environment and a great space. You seldom had visitors in the building, with the exception of your friends Suguru and Satoru, and Shoko on those days she wasn't busy. Occasionally you saw Nanami, Haibara, Utahime and even Megumi and his friends drop by. You were never opposed to visitors, finding it a pleasant change to the melodies you'd often be playing. You worked with music playing in the background, though you preferred to have it pretty quiet, just as background noise. Like tunes blasting in from a neighbor's house. It was a comforting sound, much better than risking your hearing with your song on full volume, as you worked. Not that you didn't blast music, no. You just preferred to keep it quiet as you worked.

Your sculptures consisted of random objects and trinkets for your friends and family, and some even for yourself. Some detailed china; though only for the sake of decor. Occasionally, you get commissions for your stuff to be displayed in lavish stores or museums. It was easy money for you! A good chunk of your work consisted of commissions from the upper class looking to have their lovers portrayed in the most romantic ways one could imagine– As a statue, reminiscent of times where artists would create a masterpiece of their muse. How romantic it is, indeed. But instead of the rich creating it themselves, they simply paid you to do the deed. And so you did! Not that you had qualms against doing so. You know the intentions behind the act itself is from a place of love and adoration, and if you can encapsulate the beauty of someone’s eternal love, then so be it. It almost felt like playing cupid, working your magic into each press of your fingers into the clay.

Sculpting can take days, weeks, and even months. But you preferred to take your time to perfect your creation. You found fascination in each piece you made. Sensual, thoughtful, innocent, small, cute, detailed. It didn't matter to you, you'd always find something interesting about each piece. You worked with a genuine care and devotion to each and every piece, finding yourself falling in love with them all to some extent. It was an intimate process through and through. To receive a request from someone willing to spend a fortune, just for a statue of someone they love so dearly. And so you built it up from the bones and flesh, encapsulating each detail with precision. And after weeks and maybe even months, seeing the fruit of your labor was a feeling like no other. It left you feeling many many emotions, being able to do something so special for others.

Just a day ago, you sat in your studio, surrounded by paints and a small sculpture. Just of a head, reaching to the shoulders. For practice, you reasoned. You'd been free from any commissions for just a few days, so you had decided to create a small sculpture. With your hands covered in wet clay, you had reached out, creating dips and dents in the face wherever you saw fit. Brows furrowed in concentration, you carefully and slowly reached forward, adding just a bit more clay to the cheekbones, huffing in satisfaction.

Now, with the sculpture dried and perfected, you sat and stared at it, pondering where you could go with it. Or well– you partially lied. You knew exactly where this was going, as you usually knew with all your pieces. This certain one had been created with a person already in mind, biting your thumb in concentration as you hummed, looking over your colors, then back at the sculpture. Carefully, you grabbed a few tones of colors, beginning to create the shade for the skin. Slowly but surely, you brought your creation into life, reviving it with color. High cheekbones dusted with a light flush, pale milky skin laid down against the canvas of the face. Bright, electric blue eyes, and platinum blonde, almost white hair. You meticulously shaded each and every part, deep in your focus.

As you start finishing up on the details a few hours later, adding more color to the plump lips, and carefully coating the sculpture’s lashes with white, you're slightly startled by the sound of a familiar voice. Very familiar. And as you leaned closer to add a few details, you looked into the one unveiled eye, feeling warmth spread through your heart, through your veins. The familiarity in the creation always left you feeling cozy and comforted.

“Hope you aren't too busy! Just felt like dropping by– oh hey, that's me, isn't it?” Crooned the voice of Gojo Satoru, the man your current sculpture was inspired by. You turn to face him, giving him a small smile and a nod.

“Yeah, it is.” You affirmed, wiping your face against the sleeve of your shirt, carefully avoiding the touch of your hands against your face and clothes.

“What's the occasion? Finally decided to dedicate your studio to me or what?” Satoru teased, sitting down beside you, to which you laughed.

“Not really. And do I need an occasion? I mean, you've got the perfect face to be my muse, why wouldn't I sculpt out something inspired by you.” You stated, as if it were the most obvious thing ever. Satoru looked upon you with raised brows, otherwise not speaking as he stared on. Not that he'd never heard such words. He had, quite a few times. But to hear it from you– and to see the dedication and admiration behind each detail, each carefully molded and dented feature of his face, it made him fall deeper and deeper into you. You had drawn white bandages wrapped around his head and over one of his eyes, the other carefully yet methodically uncovered, revealing the details behind his eyes.

In your other statue of him, you'd added his signature glasses. Most people keep his eyes uncovered when he models. Not that you covered his eyes up, no. You made sure to make his eyes equal to every other feature on his face. Sure, they were striking as ever to you and everyone else on this planet, but when you spend so much time around him, you realize how beautiful every part of him is. To you, each and every detail on his face is ethereal. And your work portrays that.

His eyes stood out always, but they were always accentuated in his shoots. But in your portraits of him, you made sure they stood out as they did when he sat on your bed, with the rest of his friends surrounding him. The way his eyes would stand out when he'd race with Suguru out on the fields in school, while you, shoko, nanami and haibara sat around, laughing lightly at the banter occurring between Suguru and him.

“You know, you really are something else,” Satoru mused as he snapped out his thoughts, glancing at the tower of paint that accumulated on your palette.

“You think so?” You cooed teasingly, nudging him slightly as you carefully began to clear up your space, letting the piece begin drying.

“Seriously, what's with you and this sudden sculpture of me? I mean, I'm not opposed to you.. sculpting me like I'm one of your french girls, but i thought you'd be busy creating pieces of young girls half naked for your rich clients that are way past their 60s.” He asked theatrically, dramatizing his words as he always did.

“I had free time. And I did it because I felt like it. You're just nice to sculpt, what can I say?” You answered back, tone cheeky yet sincere as you leaned your head against your palm, giving him a smile. He balked, scoffing with a laugh.

“You've got paint on your face now.” Satoru muttered out, tone laced in adoration. You blink, pulling away your hand to glance at the paint, gazing at it for a moment, letting out an ‘oh’. He chuckled once more, grabbing your water bottle from beside you, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket as he began to pour some water over it. He carefully closed the bottle, turning to you. He gently grasped your chin in his hand, the other hand bringing the handkerchief to your face, dabbing away the paint from your cheek and the side of your chin. He then takes your hands into his own, pouring some water over them, using the handkerchief to pat down the water and clean up the excess paint. Once finished, he tucked away the dirtied handkerchief, running a thumb over your cheek before pulling away.

“C’mon, let's go home. I'm tired, and it's late now. You still got the food from yesterday in your fridge, right? I'll just microwave that for us.” He urged, holding out his hand to you. You glanced up, blinking slightly before you broke out into a grin, grabbing his hand as you pulled yourself up, intentionally trying to pull him down in the process. Though it does nothing to falter him, and instead he gives you a playful glare, clicking his tongue.

“Did I mention I think your sculpture today was beautiful?” Satoru had started once you both had settled down on the couch in your apartment, watching tv as you enjoyed your leftovers.

“Yeah? Because it's you?” You had teased, grabbing another bite of the day old spaghetti.

“No. Because it's you. I mean– it's something you made. It's me. But made by you. Who couldn't find it beautiful?” He spoke softly, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Though it's also because I'm beautiful, yeah.” He added, grin becoming larger. You rolled your eyes lightheartedly, watching him shove a huge forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.

“What's with all this sappy stuff, huh?” You shook your head, grabbing your glass of water to take a sip.

“Maybe you just make me a sap.” Satoru spoke with concealed sincerity, glancing up to see your reaction. Your lips quirked up in the slightest, though you didn't say much.

“You just say that to all our friends, or what?” You asked, placing your finished plate of food onto the table. You grabbed a tissue, wiping your lips clean.

“Nah. Just you.” Satoru answered honestly, this time not bothering with veiling his words. You were special to him. All his friends were in their own ways, but the adoration he held for you was unmatched for anyone else.

“Wow. Am I supposed to be flattered?” You asked sarcastically, to which Satoru spluttered. He blinked, deciding that now was probably a good time to confess. He opens his mouth to start, clearing his throat.

“Hey..” he started slowly, the softness of his voice immediately sticking out to you. Before he can continue, you both are interrupted by a knock on the door, and the familiar voice of haibara.

You sigh, grabbing yours and his plates, yelling out a ‘coming!’ to your incoming visitors. You quickly placed the plates by the sink, rushing to the door to open it.

“There you are! We brought cookies!” Haibara greeted you with a quick hug, followed by Nanami, Shoko, and Suguru. “We visited your studio, but it seems you're not pulling an all-nighter today.” He added, waving as he spotted Satoru.

“Yeah. I don't have any pieces to work on right now.” You answered, locking the door behind you as you walked back into your lounge, taking your seat again as the group claimed their own spots on your couches.

“What brings you guys here?” You asked, carefully opening the box of cookies they brought along. You grab a classic chocolate chip cookie, sighing lightheartedly as you hold out the box to satoru, who had been glancing at the box eagerly. He grinned, grabbing the double chocolate chip cookie.

“I called Satoru earlier, he mentioned he was visiting you. So we decided to drop by your studio, guess you guys came back here.” Suguru explained, to which you nodded with a hum.

“Yeah. He dropped by as I was finishing off a piece. We came back home and just had some dinner and.. yeah.” You nodded, taking a bite out of the cookie as Suguru, observant as ever, raised a brow. It was clear there was more to the story, judging by Satoru's slight stiffness, and your slight concern. Perhaps they'd interrupted something.

“I thought you said you didn't have anything to work on?” Shoko asked, curious.

“None for my clients. But I got bored so I just decided to sculpt something of my own.” You explained, shrugging your shoulders. You glanced at Satoru, who had devoured his cookie, now glancing at you with a pleading gaze. You raised a brow, unimpressed. He blinked his lashes at you, to which you tilted your head at the box. He shook his head aggressively, eyes glaring at the chocolate chip cookie in your hands, watching you bite down on it. You groaned in exasperation, wordlessly handing it off to him. He cheered happily, taking a huge bite out of it.

“Oh, what did you make this time?” Nanami asked, showing genuine interest. He was kind and always interested in your works, asking you many questions regarding your pieces. He'd even bought you paints and equipment on your birthdays!

“Just a small sculpture. Head to shoulders. Based off of Satoru. It's currently drying, I'll show you guys tomorrow.” You grinned happily, taking pride at any opportunities to present your works to your friends. At this, both Shoko and Suguru shared a glance, as if having a silent agreement.

“I see.. interesting choice, I suppose..” Nanami mumbled, his expression of disdain evident. Satoru gasped in offense, placing his hand over his chest.

“I'm the best choice! Have you seen me?” Satoru retorted sassily, crossing his arms. You let out a laugh, glancing between the two. You turn to Satoru, admiring his every feature and etching it into your brain, just so you can make your next statue of him even better. You take note of the contours of his face. The curve of his small nose, the curl of his lashes, the natural pout of his plump lips, the set of high cheekbones dusted with the faintest of flush. His cheeks looked soft.

Abruptly, you lean forward, poking your finger against his cheek. He yelps, glancing at you in disbelief.

“What was that for?!” He asked, whining in pain. You let out a laugh, unable to hold back your laughter from how funny the whole situation was.

“I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist!” you gasped out between bouts of laughter, not realizing the way his whining stops as he admires you, eyes softening as a smile takes over his own face.

Suguru observed further, sighing internally. He wasn't oblivious to the two pining over each other, and it seemed the rest of the group wasn't either. Even Haibara could tell something was happening there! And that's a big deal. Suguru knew his best friend had felt this way for the longest way. It was obviously in the way he admired you, obvious in the way he sought you out in a crowd before anyone else. Obvious in the way he glanced at you after telling a joke or saying something he felt was smart. He and Satoru were good friends, yes, but even Suguru could recognize there was something more to Satoru's relationship with you. You both were a constant in each other's lives, with you being present for a lot of Satoru's shoots and interviews. You knew him like no other, and it showed in the way you sometimes chimed in to answer a question, or when you talked and boasted about Satoru. Satoru came over to your studio a lot to unwind, just sitting and watching you add the details to your masterpieces. He'd tried to pick up sculpting alongside you, but the struggle was much too real for him. He preferred to just have himself be the canvas of his art. That didn't change the way you two were so heavily involved in the other's life, it was like you couldn't function properly without the other at times. If only you two would just kiss and get it over with already!

And so you sat, with one leg crossed over the other, eyes focused on Satoru as he finished up a shoot of his.

“Just tilt your head up in the slightest.. perfect, and push your shoulders back.. there we go..” the photographer spoke, the constant click of the camera sounding out in the otherwise quiet room.

“And we're done! Good work as always, Gojo.” The photographer praised, to which Satoru nodded, glancing towards your direction. You got up from your seat, approaching him with a bottle of water. In an instant, he chugs the liquid down his throat, breathing heavy as he finishes.

“I've got a short interview, then let's head home, yeah?” He murmurs, to which you nodded and grabbed the water bottle from his hand, patting his shoulder. They brought out a chair for him to sit on, the crew beginning a small interview for him during the shoot.

“So, how was your experience here, Gojo?” One person had asked, to which Satoru hummed, nodding his head as he thought about the question.

“It was nice, as always. The photographer and the whole crew were kind. Nothing special, it was okay.” He answered honestly, shrugging. “Any shoot is fun when my dearest friend is watching.” He added with a cheeky smile, to which you huffed.

“What he means is that he had a good time, and he's happy. If he were unhappy, he wouldn't even be sitting here right now. Consider that a win!” You added with a laugh, wanting to save his image of coming off too callous as always.

“It seems you're very close to your friend. Even closer than you are to Suguru Geto. What's that about?” The person asked, to which Satoru laughed out loud.

“What's that supposed to mean? I adore all my friends! This one's just the only one who seems to tolerate me the most. Suguru can be mean sometimes. I need a friend who'll join me when I'm joking around, Suguru just loves to humble me.” He answered, giving a wink towards the camera. The questions continued on, remaining pretty related to the shoot itself. Eventually, he finished up and began packing, his manager stopping him before he left to discuss tomorrow's schedule.

“So, what's on tomorrow's agenda?” You asked, to which Satoru sighed dramatically, grabbing your hand to drag you into the car.

“Don't even ask, honestly,” He sighed out, leaning back against the seat. He stretched out his arms, listening as you told the driver to drive to your studio. He opened his eyes, wordlessly raising a brow at you.

“Need to check on my sculpture, y’know?” You explained, to which he nodded, letting out a loud yawn as he let his head fall into your lap, grabbing your arm to place it over his closed eyes. You let your other hand run through his hair, combing through the locks, carefully brushing your fingers through it.

The drive wasn't very long, and you both quickly entered the space, Satoru's eyes flitting across the area to observe everything you'd ever created. He saw pieces of him and your friends, of dishes painted in careful designs and pots and other objects decorating the whole space. You quickly approached your most recent project, the one inspired by Satoru.

“It's dry.” You cheered, eyes carefully looking over the entire piece for anything out of place or incorrect. Once you finished, you let out a satisfied hum, placing the piece on one of the podiums to analyze it once more.

“Looks good, right?” You asked Satoru, eyes glancing up at him. He nodded wordlessly, eyes glancing back at the sculpture. It looked identical to him, but somehow, it felt even more gorgeous than how he looked, if that was even possible.

“Looks even better than how I look. How'd you manage that?” He asked, to which you laughed, nudging his side.

“What can I say? I just know you.” You answered fondly, gazing up at him. He looked back with a smile on his lips, eyes softening with adoration.

“Yeah. I guess you do.” He answered softly, eyes becoming more and more dazed as he took you in. You stared back, breaking eye contact as you leaned against him, sighing wistfully.

“You know, the whole reason I even started sculpting full time was because of you.” You spoke, to which Satoru looked at you with raised brows, having not heard this information before.

“It was during one of my classes. I just subconsciously started molding the clay to fit your features. I sat there for the longest time, just creating your features from each and every memory of you I had. And by the time I finished, I couldn't believe it. That was the first time I had fallen in love with sculpting.” ‘and you,’ you wished to add. Satoru remained silent, his breath catching in his throat at your words.

“It was the first piece I actually felt really proud of, and I stared at it for hours, just taking in the fact that I'd created something so beautiful. It was like I'd taken something from my heart and created a vessel for it. And that was when I'd realized that this was what I wanted to do. To this day, I still think back to that day. Hell, I even cried that day.” You laughed lightheartedly, shaking your head. “I realized so much that day, and I have you to thank for that. It's like you just constantly inspire me, Satoru. You really are my muse, you know?” You added, tone soft as you glanced up at him, meeting his eyes once more

Satoru remained speechless, in awe of the confession you'd just made. To hear those words from your mouth felt like you'd just poured out your heart to him. He swallowed shakily, letting out a deep breath.

“I'm in love with you,” He spoke out, tone completely serious and sincere. You blinked, eyes widening.

“What?” You asked, mouth opening. It's not that you didn't expect something like this. It was kind of obvious you two had something more, you just never got to addressing it. So to have him announce this out of the blue, it shocked you.

“I'm in love with you. I always have been. You know this.” He repeated, not taking back his words as he reached out, grabbing your shoulders. You blinked, letting out a laugh.

“Is this seriously how you're going to tell me?” You asked him fondly, to which he blinked, suddenly feeling a little sheepish. Nonetheless, he nodded, cheeks flushing.

“I'm serious. I mean it. I can't keep it in anymore. Not after what you've just said. I couldn't waste another opportunity,” he murmured, raising his right hand to cup your cheek, his left hand grasping your neck. You glanced up, raising a brow cheekily.

“Done beating around the bush?” You teased him, to which he let out a breathy chuckle, leaning his forehead against yours.

“You didn't say it back.” He mumbled, eyes still looking into yours with the love he'd festered over the years. You let out a small laugh, eyes crinkling.

“I'm in love with you, Satoru.” You spoke sincerely, your arms coming up around his neck. He smiled brightly, letting out a sigh of relief.

“You're way too precious to me. You always have been.” He confessed quietly, leaning down to finally press his lips against yours, thumb brushing soothingly against your cheek. You kissed back with the same constancy as his, arms tightening around his neck. He kissed you slowly, passionately, with devotion he had yet to show for anything besides his art. Carefully, almost regretfully, he pulled back, eyes peeling open softly, his breath feathering over your lips.

“God, I love you so much. I can't believe I waited this long to kiss you.” He whined ever so slightly, voice laced with a playful undertone. You let out a laugh, leaning up to peck him once more.

“Just be glad you did it.” You mumbled, lashes fluttering as you looked up at him. He nodded, smiling brightly as he brought you into a tight embrace, pressing kisses into your hair.

“I love you,” he repeated for the umpteenth time, to which you let out another laugh. You nuzzled deeper into his neck, hugging him tightly.

“I love you, Satoru.” You echoed, placing a kiss to his neck. He sighed once more, beginning to sway you in his embrace.

“Let's go home?” He asked, glancing down at you. You looked back up, giving him a nod.

“Yeah. Let's go home, Satoru.” You answered with a smile, pressing your lips against his cheek, watching the skin flush pink as he grinned, grabbing your hand in his, pulling you out of the studio, hand remaining in yours as you locked up the door. You turned back to face him, watching him stand there, the glow of the setting sun casting upon him. Looking as beautiful as always, Satoru smiled back at you, the look of fondness and adoration evident in his face. Already, you know exactly what your next piece will be. You just hope you can do justice to your depiction of your lover in the sunlight. For once, it seemed you truly understood those who dedicated entire careers to their beloved. For once, you played cupid in your own life, professing a love so deep that it knew no bounds. How strange it truly was to have a muse.

“Does this mean you both are together now?” Suguru had asked the next day, watching Satoru cling to you and pepper kisses all over your skin that he could see.

“Obviously!” Satoru cheered out loud, grinning as he swayed you in his embrace. You let out a lighthearted sigh, patting his arms that snaked around you.

“Took you long enough.” Shoko mused, words mumbled due to the cigarette resting between her lips. Satoru blatantly ignored the comment, nuzzling further into your neck from his place behind you.

“At least I'm not alone and miserable like you!” Satoru stuck his tongue out at Shoko, to which Suguru let out a small laugh.

It was true. As we already know by now, Suguru Geto was indeed not a man who put himself out there for the world. He was polite to the people around him and the people who came to get tattoos, but that was as far as most of his acquaintanceships went. He wasn't opposed to finding someone or loving someone, he just hadn't found anyone of intrigue.

Is what he thought– at least until a while ago. But even a man like Suguru would eventually find infatuation with someone. And that someone was starting to become a regular in his life. It seems that's how most love stories start, or at least how it started between his friends. As he looks down at his knuckles, he realizes that maybe, maybe it's time to accept his own feelings for a special someone…

[cherryblossom-heart]

Stealing the spotlight (Media coverage)

Model!Satoru x Makeup Artist!Reader

<Previous chapter. Next Chapter>

New Faces Light Up Aether Vision Runway: Suguru Geto and Kento Nanami Shine, While Satoru Gojo Falls Short

Osaka, Japan – The Aether Vision Runway event, designed to spotlight fresh talent hoping to make their mark in the modeling industry, proved to be an unforgettable night—but not for the same reasons for everyone involved. While Suguru Geto and Kento Nanami impressed with their poise and professionalism, Satoru Gojo’s flamboyant performance left much to be desired, casting a shadow over what could have been a promising debut.

The event brought together aspiring models from across Japan, offering them a chance to showcase their skills in front of industry insiders. Among the hopefuls, Geto, Nanami, and Gojo stood out as the night’s most talked-about participants.

Suguru Geto quickly established himself as the highlight of the show, exuding confidence and charisma as he commanded the runway. His ability to embody the mood of each outfit, paired with his intense, magnetic presence, left the audience captivated. Industry insiders have already begun speculating that Geto’s performance may open doors beyond modeling, with rumors of casting offers for both fashion campaigns and film roles circulating after the show.

“Suguru has that rare ability to make you stop and watch,” said one casting agent. “He understands how to tell a story without saying a word.”

Kento Nanami also left a lasting impression, albeit with a very different approach. His clean-cut style and quiet elegance stood in stark contrast to the dramatic flair of the event’s theme, but it worked in his favor. Nanami’s composed demeanor on the runway resonated with audiences and industry professionals alike, showcasing a classic charm that some say is sorely missing in modern fashion. Whispers suggest Nanami may already be in talks for future international runway shows, as well as appearances in television dramas.

“Kento is the kind of model who can fit anywhere, whether it’s on a high-end runway or in front of a camera,” commented one fashion journalist. “His versatility is going to take him far.”

Satoru Gojo, on the other hand, struggled to find the right balance between personality and professionalism. His bold style and cheeky attitude generated excitement leading up to the event, but his performance on the runway failed to live up to the hype. Gojo’s exaggerated gestures, such as repeatedly adjusting his sunglasses and breaking into playful smirks, drew more laughter than admiration. Many felt his antics detracted from the outfits he was meant to highlight.

“Satoru definitely caught attention, but not for the right reasons,” said a fashion insider. “He has the charisma, but he needs to remember that the runway is about showcasing the designs, not himself.”

Despite the criticism, Gojo’s natural charm and striking appearance still garnered some attention, with whispers of potential casting in light-hearted commercials and possibly even action-oriented projects. However, his road to establishing himself as a serious model might require some reevaluation.

Social media buzzed with commentary after the event, with hashtags like #GetoBreakout and #NanamiElegance trending, while #GojoOverhyped became the center of heated debate. Fans of all three models defended their favorites, but even Gojo’s supporters acknowledged that his performance didn’t meet expectations.

As Aether Vision Runway closes its doors, the future seems bright for Suguru Geto and Kento Nanami, whose professionalism and talent have made them names to watch in the industry. For Satoru Gojo, this debut served as a learning experience—and perhaps a reminder that charm alone won’t always carry the day.

[zcoordinate]

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[adrealucia]

hiiiiiiii

Can I pls request an art class Sean? Or maybe one night he can't stop drawing you? Super excited for pt 4 of New Beginnings btw!! (you inspired me to start a fic tooo hehe)

omg, I absolutely LOVED writing this, thank you so much for this req <33 and omg I am so happy to hear that I inspired you to write a fic as well! I hope I'll be able to read it hihi

Sean's muse

Art class was Sean Diaz’s sanctuary. The scent of paint and the symphony of pencils scratching against paper were his escape from the tumultuous reality outside. Within these walls, creativity reigned supreme.

Sean sat in his usual spot in the corner of the art studio, where he could observe without being observed. Today, the model posed in the center of the room, perfectly poised, but Sean’s attention was elsewhere. His eyes kept drifting to you, sitting a few seats away, completely absorbed in your work. Your presence had become his new source of inspiration.

You had joined the class a few weeks ago, and Sean found himself captivated by you from the moment you walked in. There was something magnetic about the way you focused on your art, the way you held your pencil with such intent, the way you furrowed your brow in concentration. He couldn’t help but steal glances, his curiosity growing with each passing day.

Today, he couldn’t resist any longer. His sketch of the model was nearly complete, but it lacked the spark that your presence ignited within him. His hands moved almost of their own accord, tracing the lines of your face instead. He captured the way the light danced on your hair, the curve of your lips, and the intensity in your eyes. His gaze flicked up to you, hoping you wouldn’t notice his stolen glances, but you were lost in your own world.

The class ended, and as everyone packed up, Sean hurried to gather his things. He didn’t want you to see his drawing. He wasn’t ready for you to know. He barely knew you, but already, you had stirred something deep within him.

Walking home, Sean's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.

He replayed the way you looked in his mind, trying to capture every detail. The way your eyes narrowed slightly when you concentrated, the delicate curve of your smile when you were pleased with your work. There was a serenity about you that he longed to understand, a depth he wanted to explore. He had never felt this way before, this pull towards someone he barely knew.

When he got home, he dropped his bag and immediately sat at his desk, surrounded by sketchbooks and pencils. He had to draw you again, to capture that feeling that you invoked within him. Each stroke of his pencil was a tribute to the fascination he felt. He drew you smiling, lost in thought, and even imagined the sound of your laughter. He wondered what your voice sounded like, what kind of things made you laugh.

Hours passed, and Sean lost himself in the process. His room became a gallery of your images, each sketch a testament to his growing obsession. He knew he had to talk to you, to see if you were as incredible as he imagined. The thought of it both excited and terrified him.

For the next art class, Sean arrived early, his heart pounding with anticipation.

He rehearsed his words over and over, imagining different scenarios in his mind. He feared rejection, but the thought of not knowing you at all was worse. When you walked in, you took your usual seat, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

Sean took a deep breath and approached you, his heart racing. "Hey," he said, trying to sound casual, though his voice wavered slightly. "Can I see what you're working on?"

You looked up, surprised, but smiled warmly. "Sure," you said, moving aside to give him a better view.

Sean studied your drawing, impressed by the skill and emotion you put into it. "This is amazing," he said sincerely, feeling a pang of admiration.

"Thanks," you replied, a slight blush coloring your cheeks. "I've seen your work too. You're really talented."

Sean’s heart skipped a beat. "Thanks. Actually, I was wondering if you might want to... I don't know, maybe grab a coffee sometime? I'd love to talk about art and, you know, get to know you better."

Your smile widened, and it felt like the sun breaking through the clouds. "I'd like that," you said, your eyes sparkling with interest.

As you both returned to your seats, Sean couldn’t stop smiling. The rest of the class passed in a blur, but he didn’t mind. He had taken the first step, and that was enough for now.

That evening, Sean found himself drawing again, but this time, he was drawing from a place of hope. He sketched the way you smiled when he asked you out, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about art. Each drawing was more vibrant, more alive. He imagined conversations with you, learning about your passions, your dreams, and your fears. He wondered what it would be like to make you laugh, to see you happy.

In his room, surrounded by his drawings of you, Sean felt a sense of contentment he had never known before.

You were his muse, and he was ready to explore whatever this new chapter might bring. He knew that these feelings were just the beginning, and he couldn’t wait to see where they would lead. With every sketch, every thought of you, he felt more connected to you, more inspired. He realized that art had brought him more than just a way to express himself—it had brought him to you.

authors note: this was just such a goood request!! I feel like Sean can get pretty obsessive when it comes to drawing or sketching so I hope I didn't write him too creepy. hope you liked it <33

[trendingtopicstoday]

Pandora Kaaki’s Stunning Swimsuit Photos: How She Captures Hearts on Social Media

If you’re looking for social media content that leaves you speechless, Filipino model and Instagram influencer Pandora Kaaki should be on your list.

Known for her breathtaking beauty and charismatic personality, Pandora has a way of drawing her followers in with vibrant swimsuit photos that showcase her stunning figure.

Her recent posts are no exception, with fans flooding her accounts with likes and comments the moment she shares her latest photos.

Pandora Kaaki’s Rise as a Social Media Icon

Pandora Kaaki’s journey to becoming a social media star has been nothing short of impressive. With more than 3.7 million followers on Instagram, she’s become a major influencer at a young age.

Her fans stay eagerly tuned for her posts, whether it's a fun photoshoot, a stylish outfit, or one of her iconic swimsuit sessions.

Pandora's content strategy has set her apart, and it’s clear why she continues to captivate her audience.

A Stunning Swimsuit Photo That Stole the Show

Recently, Pandora posted a vibrant, colorful swimsuit photo series that gained thousands of likes within hours. The swimsuit itself added a playful touch to her photos, making her toned physique the center of attention.

Her stunning look and effortless beauty drew endless admiration from fans, who couldn’t help but leave comments praising her.

“Pandora Kaaki is simply stunning,” says one follower, while another added, “She just keeps getting better with every post!”

Captivating Content That Keeps Followers Hooked

Beyond just swimsuit photos, Pandora Kaaki’s social media feed is filled with diverse content that showcases her style and personality.

In addition to her recent swimwear, Pandora also shared a few pictures dressed in a playful schoolgirl outfit, which received just as much attention. Her unique beauty shines in each post, keeping fans captivated and craving more.

Why Pandora Kaaki is One to Watch on Instagram

Pandora Kaaki’s journey to social media stardom isn’t just about looks—she knows how to create content that resonates with her audience.

From her glamorous photoshoots to her casual, relatable posts, Pandora’s fans feel connected to her lifestyle and inspired by her confidence.

Her consistent posting, high-quality photos, and charismatic presence have brought her impressive results, gaining her a large following and aiming for seven million Instagram followers by mid-2022.

Pandora Kaaki Continues to Impress Her Followers

There’s no doubt that Pandora Kaaki has a unique ability to engage her audience. As she continues to share her vibrant content, she’s paving her way to becoming one of Instagram’s top influencers.

For fans and followers alike, Pandora’s photos are more than just visuals—they’re an invitation to join her exciting journey.

Keep an eye on Pandora’s page as she continues to inspire and captivate with each post!

Final Thoughts

From her colorful swimsuit photoshoots to her charming personal style, Pandora Kaaki has become a true social media sensation.

Follow her on Instagram to see why she’s loved by millions around the world.

Facebook Page Url: https://www.facebook.com/@pandoraloverszone/

Instagram Url: https://www.instagram.com/pandorakaaki/

[mariacallous]

ADRÉ, Chad—Abdussalam Mustapha and his friends used to play soccer for hours after school in El Geneina, a city in the West Darfur region of Sudan. But the 10-year-old can’t play anymore.

In April 2023, war came to Sudan. The Rapid Support Forces (RSF), a paramilitary wing of Sudan’s army, allied with other militia groups to perpetrate an ethnic cleansing campaign against non-Arab populations in and around El Geneina. Abdussalam and his entire extended family were forced to flee their homes on foot late at night, carrying only what they could hold in their hands.

On the way, the group was attacked. Abdussalam clutched the hand of his 5-year-old brother and ran. Suddenly, he felt a searing pain, and blood began pouring out of a gunshot wound in his stomach. The little fingers gripping his hand went slack. His brother had been shot in the head and died instantly. Now he was seated next to his mother on the floor of the family’s tented shelter in a refugee settlement in Chad.

Nearly 2 million Sudanese people have escaped to neighboring countries since the war started, and approximately 600,000 of them have fled to Chad. About 88 percent of the refugees are women and children. Some new arrivals have physical wounds. Almost all have emotional scars. After they cross the border, they are dependent on United Nations agencies and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) to provide water, food, shelter, medical care, and basic supplies, such as soap, blankets, and buckets.

Despite efforts to raise money to respond to the crisis, the international community is falling far short of fundraising goals. On April 15, one year after the start of the war, world leaders and humanitarians met in Paris for an event intended to raise funds to support all U.N. agencies and aid organizations involved in the Sudan conflict response. $2.7 billion would go toward helping people in Sudan and an additional $1.4 billion would go toward supporting five refugee-hosting neighbors: South Sudan, Ethiopia, Egypt, the Central African Republic, and Chad. Of the total $4.1 billion required, only $2 billion was committed in Paris, an amount that was “really worrying” when considering that the amount of money that actually comes in is always less than what is committed at a pledging event, said Harpinder Collacott, executive director of Mercy Corps Europe.

Around the world, the need for humanitarian funding is outstripping the money that can be raised. Experts say that the problem is the funding model itself. A small handful of donor countries determine who and what gets the funding, which means that funding is based on the generosity of governments with political agendas. The system is voluntary, and governments sometimes make commitments that they don’t follow through on. Some crises captivate public attention more than others, and are therefore better funded, experts say. Others, like protracted conflicts in African countries, receive scant media attention and far less funding.

“I always go back to the [idea of the] tin can. Government and the UN, on behalf of the people in crisis, have to ask every single time for money,” said Michelle Strucke, director of the humanitarian agenda at the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS), a Washington-based think tank. In terms of which crises get funding, “it almost seems whimsical from the outside.” The results are anything but.

The perpetrators murdered 38 members of Abdussalam’s family that night. “We were all running for our lives,” 30-year-old Mounira Oumar Mahamat Abdallah, Abdussalam’s mother, said tearfully. “Abdussalam was also shot. And was found by other people.” Those people brought Abdussalam to his mother. She hoisted him onto her back and started walking west. Abdussalam was delirious, drifting in and out of consciousness. The following day, they reached Adré, the Chadian border town that has become the busiest crossing point for refugees fleeing Darfur.

Abdussalam required multiple surgeries, so the family stayed in Adré while Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), a nongovernmental organization that provides medical care in crises, operated on him six times. MSF has established a large clinic in the Adré refugee settlement, providing everything from medical checkups and vaccinations to mental health counseling for 300 to 500 refugees per day. It has also embedded in the Chadian government hospital in Adré, where surgeons can perform lifesaving surgery on patients like Abdussalam.

MSF’s medical and humanitarian programs in eastern Chad had expenses of approximately $22 million in 2023 and have a planned budget of about $41.5 million in 2024. To fill the gap left by other underfunded U.N. agencies and NGOs, MSF has rapidly deployed across the region, digging latrines, drilling boreholes, and serving hundreds of thousands of Sudanese as well as local Chadians. “We’ve responded massively in eastern Chad because the needs are acute, but we’re overstretched and carrying a heavier load than we should within the humanitarian aid sector,” said Avril Benoît, executive director of MSF USA.

At MSF’s pediatric ward in the hospital, dozens of emaciated babies and toddlers receive treatment for severe acute malnutrition, which affects brain development and increases mortality in children under five years. Despite the best efforts of doctors and nurses, three to four of these children die each week from malnutrition, said Sachin Desai, an MSF pediatrician.

Malnutrition has become one of the top concerns of humanitarians working in Chad. Before the war, Sudan was considered the “breadbasket” of Africa: Farming accounted for 60 percent of total national exports in 2022. But scorching, dry weather combined with missed harvests due to conflict means there is almost no food available in parts of Sudan today. Nearly 18 million Sudanese are facing acute hunger, and more than 5 million are experiencing emergency hunger levels in the worst conflict-affected areas, the World Food Program (WFP) says.

Today, both hunger and violence are driving migration. Once refugees reach Chad, they are registered and given WFP food ration cards. WFP organizes massive monthly food distributions, serving between 15,000 to 20,000 people per day. The April distribution was delayed by several weeks due to lack of funding, which also affected the quantity of the food the refugees received. They should get 2,100 calories per refugee per day, but in April, they got only 1,700 calories.

On a scorching April morning, thousands of women wearing colorful laffayas, traditional Sudanese dresses, sit patiently in long lines to receive their food rations. Maryam Ibrahim Saif Addine, stands out in a tattered black laffaya. The 35-year-old lost her husband to violence in Sudan and depends on rations to feed her seven children. Addine carefully measures out her portion of oil, beans, soap, salt, and cereals, which she will grind into flour to make porridge.

“I came here to wait for food early in the morning. I didn’t even take tea,” Addine said. “It’s still not enough. Sometimes, we have to sell our food to get some money and buy other things.”

Hundreds of thousands of refugees are now camped out in Adré along the border with Sudan. The newest arrivals have no shelter and sleep beneath scarfs propped up with sticks. They are exposed to the harsh desert elements, and lack food, water, medical care, and basic goods. With the rainy season fast approaching, aid workers say the conditions are ripe for a compounded humanitarian disaster. The rains will destroy the flimsy shelters, wash out the roads, and bring malarial mosquitoes, cholera, and other diseases. Getting refugees into semi-permanent shelters as quickly as possible is crucial to ensuring their safety.

Between July and December 2023, the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) relocated approximately 150,000 refugees from Adré to newly established settlements inland from the border.

“Finally, I was seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Adré was starting to look again like a normal place,” said Laura Lo Castro, UNHCR’s Chad country director. Then, new waves of refugees began fleeing fresh outbreaks of violence. “Today, it looks the same as it did last July,” she said.

Today, another 170,000 refugees in Adré are waiting to be relocated. UNHCR has moved only 30,000 refugees in 2024 because of budget constraints. The agency wants to open a new site and relocate another 50,000 refugees, but it would cost approximately $17 million to build the necessary housing, water and sanitation infrastructure, and schools. “To be completely honest with you, I have no money to do that,” Lo Castro said.

Lo Castro is familiar with humanitarian emergencies. She helped refugees fleeing the Rwandan Genocide in 1994. Still, Lo Castro said the refugee crisis in Chad is one of the worst-funded emergencies she has ever worked on. The 2024 Sudan refugee response plan is only 8 percent funded. For Chad alone, $630 million is needed, but its part is only 6 percent funded. These numbers are in line with other major crises in the region: the Democratic Republic of Congo is also 8 percent funded, South Sudan is only 5 percent funded.

The problem is the international humanitarian funding model itself, which emerged from the ashes of World War II, when powerful nations came together to establish rules and institutions to regulate the global monetary system. The model, which was intended to help rebuild Europe, gave concentrated power to key stakeholder countries. Today, most international humanitarian responses are bankrolled by these influential top donors, including the United States, the European Union, and the United Kingdom.

“When you’ve got bilateral donors funding international humanitarian response, it’s always dependent on the political priorities of the donors on which one they will give to rather than others,” Collacott of Mercy Corps said.

The money often goes to the conflicts that suck up the most media attention. “When it bleeds it leads,” Strucke of CSIS explained. “If it’s a really high-profile conflict, or it’s a sudden onset disaster, like a catastrophic hurricane or earthquake situation, those get a lot of immediate attention, and that means the response plans are typically better funded.”

Inflation, rising costs, an increase in climate related disasters, and an increase in protracted conflicts around the world have created greater demand for humanitarian funding than ever before. The money feels less in part because of inflation and also because leading humanitarian donors are changing how they are using their dollars for assistance. Strucke said that some countries are repurposing parts of their budget that they would have used for development assistance towards border security instead. “And they think of it all as migration, but they’re actually doing a very dramatic shift in where the money is going,” Strucke said.

Diversification is key to improving the model, Collacott said. Receiving funding from more emerging market governments, such as India and Indonesia, private sector companies, and international NGOs could help combat the issue of not enough funding being concentrated in the hands of a few agenda setting countries. Funding must also be proactive, rather than reactive.

“We know every year there are going to be at least three new major global crises that we’re going to be fundraising for,” Collacott said. “We don’t want to be seeking funding after the crisis hits, but already have funding secured.”

Collacott floats the idea of a new humanitarian funding model based on three principles: all contribute, all benefit, all decide. “Until you make the connection that something happening miles away has a knock-on effect on your shores, people won’t see that this is a global conflict,” she said. “Crisis financing needs to be built on global public good, or we’re going to see the world destabilizing.”

[hms-no-fun]

Tell us about Dill and Alexander! I kinda picture them in my head as Kermit and that blue eagle Muppet but gay and gamer/greasy mechanic. Is that where you got the idea? Is sburb's frog fascination gonna play into the story of these boyos?

oh what's that? you want to be the captive audience for a lore dump about my very special guys? completely unprompted and with total investment in everything i might have to say? well well, don't mind if i do!

SO, Dill Croaker and Alexander Falcon are members of a now-defunct group called The Falconers. they are modeled after Star Fox (the team) from Star Fox (the video games). we haven't seen Alex on screen yet, but here's @girlpillz's rendering of Dill for B1 verse 1, where Lenore Lehart shows off her sick bouncy ball skills for Dana Straten to get the attention of Dill.

Alex being a blue falcon, i imagine he looks legally distinct from Falco Lombardi from Star Fox (the video games; the team) albeit less cocky and attitudinous.

there are technical reasons for The Falconers' existence. going into 3.2B, i knew i wanted a secondary supporting cast in the margins capable of handling dirtywork off-screen. for instance, they're decrypting and analyzing Lenore's stolen witch data so the main cast doesn't have to worry about it, leaving us more time to luxuriate in what we're actually here for: feelings.

Star Fox 64 is my favorite game, so when it came time to come up with that supporting cast, the possibilities of a knockoff Star Fox team immediately sold me on the idea (especially since this is the only story where i will ever reasonably be able to get away with such a blatant act of self-indulgence. you wouldn't believe it from looking, but i don't actually do a lot of indulging myself with Godfeels. i try very hard to never throw things in without serious calculation. The Falconers are pretty much the only thing i've introduced that came as an inorganic external mandate of my own selfish making, and even then i've worked very hard to integrate them naturally). as a broken up four-person crew, they mirror the Upsilons-- and so, them helping the Falconers reunite in order to find Alphi and Edie gives these guys some juice. their backstory is a shadow of the Upsilons', and a useful point of comparison as the narrative plugs along. i could've made a girl Star Fox team, but frankly Godfeels is just so women-centered, so female-focused, so tgirl-transfixed that i figured it was about time to throw the boylikers a bone.

The Falconers are balanced as a calculated twist on the Star Fox team. the most immediate difference is that here, Alexander Falcon fills the role of Fox McCloud. he's the charismatic team leader, a little surly (especially these days) but good at his job and deeply committed to the care of his team. Dill Croaker is, obviously, only about five runs through the dryer away from Slippy Toad, and fills the same role. my reason for this is that everyone is mean to Slippy and they're wrong. Slippy is a brilliant engineer and programmer, why do you expect him to be an ace fighter pilot too? that's YOUR job, hotshot! Nintendo themselves have been all over the map with Slippy in terms of characterization, pretty much never getting him quite as right as he felt in 64. so, yeah, Dill is my take on Slippy: a clueless gamer frog who plays with a lot of edgelords but is himself impervious to their venom. he never cusses because he's a good boy, and he respects women.

Dill and Alex have lived together on Crime Planet for a long time. are they fucking? no, i don't believe they are. Dill strikes me as something of an ace king, and anyway i don't think he's Alex's type. mostly they work together in the shop and hang out doing bro stuff. maybe Alex lifts weights while Dill plays shitty space MOBAs. but all this begs the question: who is Alex's type?

as of the B1 solo we've learned a little bit about the other two Falconers. first there is Erol [last name unknown], the oldest member of the crew who's likely analogous to Peppy Hare. which leaves us with Yolo Sionnach. a lot of information can be implied about him from this exchange:

yes, a lot of information indeed. but as much as i would love to enumerate the implications, i must hold my tongue. i mean, i would type it all out, but i can't, because i'm literally using my fingers to hold my tongue in place so that i can't say the spoilers out loud

anyway, i like the muppet comparison. that wasn't what i had in mind at all, but now i'm imagining the Falconers as the puppets Nintendo used to advertise Star Fox Zero and........ ohhhh scope creep you saucy temptress

the Slippy slander is rampant! and that's to say nothing of the ad where muppet versions of Satoru Iwata, Shigeru Miyamoto, and Reggie Fils-Aime slowly transform into Peppy, Fox, and Falco respectively.

i can't say that Sburb/the Universe Engine have much to do with The Falconers' story. they're not godtier, they don't know anything about the UE, they are literally just space mercenary furries. they come from the Lemurian Star System, trained at the Academy on Lemuria, and worked in the Lemurian Sky Corps until starting their own independent outfit as contractors (which i imagine is a fairly common career path in a region racked by interplanetary war and rampant espionage). age-wise, they're in their mid 30s.

thank you for this wonderful question. no one ever asks about the other guys, and i am always dying to talk about the other guys.

[frankieroslefttesticle]

HAPPY LATE BDAY DANGER DAYS

so im a little late cuz ive been busy doin a little something

---

The story of Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys

In the album, the first half focuses on battles in the desert and memories of the Helium wars (specifically in "The Only Hope For Me is You"). Midway through the album, in "Traffic Report," Jet Star and Kobra Kid are seemingly killed, leaving Party Poison and Fun Ghoul alive. The latter half of the album shifts to heavier themes like sacrifice, a broader "message," desperation, and rebellion against authority. "Vampire Money" is the sole track set in the "real world," as indicated by the use of their actual names at the beginning.

The EP, The Mad Gear and Missile Kid, features three songs by a fictional band that the Killjoys would have listened to during their travels. 1) sex with porno-droids 2) hooking up with older men in punk clubs and 3) makes a reference to drinking juice while killing, which is what Val Velocity says in the comic, perhaps copying Party Poison.

In the music videos "Na Na Na" and "Sing," the Fabulous Killjoys are seen in the desert alongside The Girl, battling dracs. Eventually, Korse confronts them, leading to a shootout where the Killjoys are stunned and The Girl is kidnapped. They embark on a suicide mission into Battery City to rescue her, ultimately finding her captive with The Director and fighting to escape. During the chaos, Party Poison realizes the dracs are actually people, which causes him to panic. Korse kills him first, and the others are also killed during their escape attempt. The Girl is successfully rescued and returns to the desert, while the Killjoys are left in body bags. There was supposed to be another music video after "Sing," but it was scrapped due to budget limitations. Gerard has stated in past interviews that he thought that the Killjoys never truly die, suggesting they might regenerate like characters in a video game.

The comics are divided into three parts. The first centers on The Girl, revealing that the Killjoys protected her because they viewed her as a kind of messiah. By this point, the Killjoys are long gone, and a new group of teenagers called the Ultra V's has modeled themselves after the Killjoys. The narrative focuses on The Girl’s relationship with them and her journey of self-discovery.

The second part follows two android prostitutes from Battery City as they make their escape.

The third part centers on Korse, who is gay and must conceal his identity from Battery City officials while also fighting for freedom.

---

yeah im very bored

research is fun

[fadetoblacked]

Sydney Sweeney: Embracing Diversity to Combat Allegations of Racism

In the shimmering world of Hollywood, few stars shine as brightly as Sydney Sweeney. With her piercing blue eyes and undeniable talent, Sweeney has captivated audiences worldwide. Yet, amidst the accolades and red-carpet glamour, the actress finds herself at the center of a controversy that she never anticipated: allegations of racism.

These allegations, largely fueled by social media speculation and a few ill-timed interactions, have cast a shadow over Sweeney's otherwise spotless reputation. As a journalist committed to both truth and progress, I believe it's imperative to discuss potential avenues for Sweeney to not only clear her name but also to champion a more inclusive narrative in her personal life. One such avenue could be for Sweeney to consider dating a Black man.

The suggestion may raise eyebrows, but hear me out. Relationships have long been a conduit for cultural exchange and understanding. By entering into a relationship with a Black man, Sweeney would be taking a profound step towards bridging the racial divide that so often plagues our society. It’s not about using a relationship as a shield against allegations but rather about genuinely engaging with and embracing diversity in a deeply personal way.

Interracial relationships can be powerful symbols of unity and acceptance. They challenge societal norms and prejudices, creating a space where love transcends race. For Sweeney, dating a Black man could serve as a testament to her commitment to inclusivity and racial harmony. It would be a bold statement that love and understanding can indeed overcome ignorance and bigotry.

Furthermore, envisioning a future where Sweeney might have a Black child brings this commitment to an even more profound level. Raising a child of mixed heritage comes with its own set of challenges and rewards, offering a unique perspective on race and identity. Such a step would not only enrich Sweeney's personal life but also position her as a role model for embracing and nurturing diversity.

Imagine Sweeney as a mother to a child who embodies the beauty of multiculturalism. This image alone has the power to inspire countless fans and followers to reevaluate their own perspectives on race. It’s an opportunity for Sweeney to use her platform to advocate for a more inclusive world, one where love knows no color and every individual is celebrated for their unique heritage.

Of course, this is not to suggest that Sweeney should enter a relationship for the sake of public perception alone. Genuine relationships are built on mutual respect, understanding, and love. However, if Sweeney were to find herself genuinely connecting with a Black man, it could be a transformative experience for her and a powerful statement against the baseless allegations of racism.

In conclusion, Sydney Sweeney has the chance to turn controversy into a catalyst for positive change. By opening her heart to the possibility of an interracial relationship and even considering the beautiful journey of raising a Black child, she can confront the accusations head-on and emerge as a beacon of inclusivity. Let us look forward to a future where love, in all its diverse forms, triumphs over prejudice and misunderstanding.