#if it wasn't for the fact that the only clear shot of this model

[downtofragglerock]

Alright I'm doing a bit of a special one this time.

So back when I did the Kulta post I talked about how I didn't just want to have the full brotherhood roster to be the 14 canon Makuta and an army of completely original ocs, but extraneous sources for potential Makuta weren't exactly plentiful.

One source that did have merit were set prototypes. It's not uncommon in pieces of media to reuse concept art or early designs of a character for a new one, just look at star wars, and for 2008, there were a number of unused designs and models for the Makuta sets. Some have been identified as the early designs for specific characters, but curiously there are some were that's not the case.

On a German program called "Galileo" in 2008 there was a little tv spot about bionicle that featured brief glimpses of several prototype models, three in particular are Makuta that don't seem to have become any one final set. Screenshots can be found on the bs01 prototype gallery page. They are nigh-perfect for this kind of project.

A Makuta who ruled a rain shadow area. Their greatest claim to fame was the creation of an intelligent eusocial species of termite rahi that inhabited this land, dotting the landscape with impressive and gravity defying mound structures to rival even the greatest cities of the MU in artistry. This Makuta was harvested by GSR Teridax, like many others. Following the reformation of Spherus Magna, the termites have begun dispersing into the remaining deserts, continuing their work. (Based on the "orange-faced" Makuta model)

The Makuta of Airwatcher's homeland, a place which, due to a technical glitch in the GSR's gravity generators, had great floating mountains and was home to the aforementioned Dark Hunter's avian kin as well as a tribe of nimble and acrobatic Le-Matoran. They excelled in making fast flying rahi species, even modifying their own body with multiple sets of insectoid wings to zip through the air faster than anything else. Occasionally served as a courier for the Brotherhood, and was killed during the Brotherhood-Dark Hunter war by a lucky shot during one of these missions. (Based on the "multi winged blue" Makuta model)

A makuta who served as on of the more middling warriors of the Brotherhood, though despite that were quite boastful about their skills and prowess. Was also killed by GSR Teridax. (Based on the "back facing" Makuta model)

[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…

[thescarletnargacuga]

BULLSEYE

A CANON TIME CAPSULE AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

AU credit: @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

Caine is blowing off some steam at the Capsule's shooting range. Pomni joins him, curious how he has such good marksmanship. Can he teach her?

WARNING: mention of PTSD

~~~

BANG!!

Caine pulled the bolt on the M1903 Springfield rifle, discharging a .30 bullet casing and readying the next shot. He focused down range through the scope.

BANG!!

He narrowed his eyes. Each shot was a memory. Another target. Another kill. Another enemy destroyed. He pulled the bolt, throwing another case.

BANG!!

The shots were tightly grouped in the center. This was a very dead soldier, but he had be sure. He pulled the bolt.

BANG!!

He readied the final shot the fastest, pulling the trigger less than a second after the firing chamber was closed.

BANG!!

Caine stood up straight and ejected the final casing. The target down range no longer had a center. Not a single shot went astray. He took a deep breath, putting away the foul wartime memories. A guest had really pissed him off today and he resorted to shooting the feelings away, despite the fact that the loud gunshots always took him back to the trenches.

Caine could feel someone's eyes on him. "Anyone ever tell you it's rude to stare?" He set the rifle down and turned to see Pomni peeking from behind a tent flap.

"Sorry. I just, um...heard the gunfire and I thought all the guests were gone for today so I wanted to see what all the noise was about." Pomni stepped out of her hiding spot. Her posture was sheepish, but she made eye contact with Caine.

"The guests are gone. Finally. I was using the range. It's one of the few things I get to do for fun around here." He almost looked away from Pomni. She was one of the few that would look directly at him. Most people couldn't stand the look of him. Too strange. Too unusual. So he found it mildly intimidating that she'd not only look at him, but even smile sometimes. It made his chest feel weird.

Pomni saw the downrange target. "Did you do that? That's incredible accuracy."

The compliment nearly went over his head. Of course he did that. He's the only one here. Wait a second- "Thank you." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I've....had a lot of practice."

"I can only imagine, considering you've been here the longest. Have you tried the other weapons?" Pomni thumbed at the rental counter, where an NPC clerk stood lifelessly at the register.

"No, I prefer this model."

Pomni looked over the Springfield. "You made those shots with this? It doesn't look like it would shoot straight if you took it to church."

"This was top of the line!" Caine said indignantly.

Pomni smirked. "It makes your skill all the more impressive."

Caine's defensiveness deflated immediately. "I- um..." There she went, making his chest feel funny again. For once, he was at a loss for words and he was grateful Kinger wasn't here to witness it.

"Can you teach me?"

Caine blinked. "What?"

"Can you teach me? We have nothing but time and learning a new skill would be a great way to pass it."

Caine knew all about that. In his time in the capsule, he's learned everything from being ambidextrous to sewing to art to different languages. "Alright." He showed her a magazine of five .30-6 bullets. "Ammunition." He picked up the rifle with one hand and showed her how to load it. "Goes here." He opened the firing chamber. "When you pull back on the bolt, It releases the expended casing and loads the next bullet. Push forward and fully lock in place before firing."

Caine pressed a button and his target was charged out with a new one before handing Pomni the rifle. She took it with both hands, surprised by its weight. Caine stood close next to her and showed her how to properly hold that rifle. "Basic safety. Always keep the barrel facing down range or at the ground, even when unloaded. Never put your finger on the trigger until you're ready to fire."

"Okay." Pomni started to feel nervous. The gun was a real weapon and it was really loaded. She was almost afraid it would go off on its own unexpectedly. Caine's guiding hands on hers helped her nerves.

Caine was in full instructor mode. He tiled the barrel up to align the sites. "To aim, use the scope by lining up your dominant eye with the tip of the stock. Don't put your eye right up against the scope. That's a good way to blind yourself."

Now Pomni was actually nervous. Her rapid heartbeat made the gun tremble.

Caine placed a hand on Pomni's upper back. "Lean into the shot when you fire and keep a firm grip. The rifle will kick back some." He double checked the firing chamber. She was loaded and secured. "Fire when ready."

Pomni took a minute to get a feel for the sight and tried to line it up with the center of the target. Her finger grazed the trigger, half expecting it to go off immediately, but it actually took some effort to squeeze.

BANG!!

Pomni hadn't realized she had been holding her breath until she gasped. She lowered the rifle and squinted to see where she hit. There was a small hole in the top center of the target.

Caine's brow raised. "Not bad. You were dead on, just a little high. Want to try again?"

Pomni felt a little adrenaline rush and nodded excitedly. She brought the rifle back up to aim.

"You're forgetting something." Caine smirked.

Pomni furrowed for a second. "...oh!" She pulled open the bolt and the expended casing clattered to the ground. She pushed it back in and carefully locked the firing chamber closed.

"There you go. A few aiming tips: keep both eyes open, this will reduce eye strain." Caine reached around and tapped next to her closed eye, she opened it in response. "You did good holding your breath before firing, but don't hold it too long. The faster your heart beats, the harder it is to aim."

"Yeah, I noticed." Pomni laughed anxiously. "First time jitters."

BANG!!

The shot went wide right, hitting the edge of the target. Pomni lowered the rifle, disappointed.

"That's alright. None of us are Annie Oakley the first time." Caine consoled. "Rest your arms when you need to. Holding the rifle up like this for long periods of time will make your muscles shake if you're not used to it."

"Right." Pomni racked the next shot, doing it much smoother this time.

Caine watched her each time to make sure she was doing it correctly, but the determined tone in her voice with how quickly she set up the next shot was doing strange things to him. He mentally reprimanded himself for such thoughts and focused on Pomni's aim, his face right next to hers. "A little more to the left. Up a degree. There. Now, breathe in."

Pomni inhaled. She could feel her heart in her ears.

"Fire." Caine whispered.

BANG!!

A hole was in the bottom of the center. Pomni smiled brightly. "I did it!"

Caine found her excitement contagious, smiling with her. "You did it. Very well done."

Pomni set the rifle down. "I think that's enough for me for now, but thank you so much for this. I can see why you come here. It must be rather nice to imagine guest faces on those targets."

Caine chuckled. "It's a guilty pleasure. And between you and me." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "I imagine BUBLE too."

Pomni giggled. "Give him two between the eyes for me."

"Yes, ma'am." Caine picked up the rifle, racked the next shot and fired. Then racked and fired again in rapid succession. Both shots hit dead center.

Pomni's jaw dropped. "How- now you're just showing off." She crossed her arms.

The rifle's barrel smoked from use as Caine cleared the final casing. "Maybe." He said coyly.

~~~

A/N: I'm on a time capsule kick lol

[noshowscon]

Detective Anderson got seriously wounded during one chasing. The suspect shot two bullets and harmed him. Now Detective is grounded for weeks if not months since his state was critical in the beginning. He hates sitting at home, he's going literally insane without work, because it's his whole life — he doesn't have a personal life, he sacrificed everything for work and he loves his job so being cut is like a nightmare. Especially when you have an annoying android to help.

HK800 isn't a housekeeper model, he's in fact the most advanced model for police purposes, but he ends up cleaning and cooking for Detective Anderson. Although he doesn't have to do it. It's not a part of his mission. Firstly, he doesn't have any oncoming mission, he's now an independent living form with a job and salary. He's a living being capable of emotions and with free will. And these two things make him want to take care of Detective. He has been doing it since they met, but now it is clear he does it because he wants, not because of programming. He does it because he developed feelings for young ambitious Detective.

Connor feels like in a trap, a prison, in his own home, still too weak to even cook for himself. His perfectionism is long forgotten with a mess in the kitchen after ordered food (HK800 couldn't make it to see Connor last evening so Detective was forced to order something and his choices always land on something unhealthy, no matter how many times the android would make comments about the toxicity of his food). And he himself looks like a mess — usually dressed in an elegant suit and with styled hair; now he's wearing an oversized t-shirt and a few curly strands fall onto his forehead. This is quite a view for the HK800. He's bold enough to assume he's one of the very few people who could witness perfect Detective in a different edition.

Connor is sick of scrolling through his phone all day, watching his fishes, reading books and lying in bed. He's not made for this kind of life. He misses adrenaline and chills on his spine. He misses the danger chasing him. But this time is also full of unsolved cases, like the one between him and the android. The past two weeks opened wounds, these inside Connor, because these physicals are healing well, thanks to that damned android. Connor wanted to do his best to forget about the feeling he once felt for his android partner. That was too complicated. Connor firstly truly felt relief, he craved intimacy for years, he felt alone, but those were also reasons why Connor decided to end that before it developed into something else. The more closeness he got from Hank, the more he was scared, irrationally. He wasn't ready for that type of relationship and he wasn't sure if he would be anytime in the future. He rejected the only person that could provide him closeness, warmth, erase loneliness because he was too ripped inside to decide what he really wanted.

But that time when Hank took care of him... Damn it, Hank saved his pathetic life. If not him, he wouldn't be there. And although Connor was a shit for Hank many times and many times rejected him, Hank didn't give up and decided to take care of him. Connor feels pitifully because of this, but he can't lie, he loves when Hank cooks for him healthy food, worries bout his health or changes his bandages, always so gentle. Connor didn't know how good android's fingers can feel on his skin. Or maybe it is just Hank's. His fingers are soft and although they are big, always take care of Connor with extra attention, like he is a porcelain doll, not a man who himself took down the most dangerous criminals in the city. All of them left a keepsake — scars all over his body. He played tough for too long and decided to appreciate the moment of weakness in the arms of the android who loved him once.

Connor just hopes Hank still loves him.

[sholiofic]

Biggles prompt - Biggles is on a case but the Soviet spy is not Erich. Biggles frets a lot (Algy gets impatient with him). Then when Erich does turn up eventually Biggles is all over him and beaming and drowning him in Biggleslove, and Erich is so confused what he's done to warrant this.

This is SO CUTE, anon. ❤️ The prompt is from several months ago, and I hope you're still around to see it!

--

"You're moping. What's the matter with you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Biggles scoffed, stirring his untouched drink. "I am contemplating the facts of the case."

"I know the difference between you moping about in a brown study, and you deep in thought," Algy said. "There's not much to think about anyway. It's a simple enough case, all we still need to do is get Gaskin's men in here to snare the fellow who's been smuggling stolen film canisters out of the -- oh God." Algy looked at him closely. "You're upset that it wasn't von Stalhein this time, aren't you?"

"What? Absurd. Where do you come up with these things?"

"Good, because --"

"But since you brought it up, this entire job is in his line, and it seems odd they'd send someone else when he's fluent in English and knows the area well," Biggles mused, and Algy dropped his head onto the slightly sticky table. "I wonder if he's fallen out of favour entirely this time. It's only to be expected, of course. I've felt it was coming for some time."

"So have I, but I'm not losing sleep over it."

"Nor am I," Biggles retorted. "It's only a practical matter to consider what might be going on behind the Iron Curtain, inasmuch as it will affect us. One could wonder who they'll replace him with, if he's been sent to some far-off posting, or dumped in prison."

"With a firing squad attached, if we're lucky."

"We could have done much worse than face off against von Stalhein over the years," Biggles shot back. "He's an officer of the old school, as you well know; a fellow who relies on a code of honour, no matter how rusted it's become."

"So you keep saying, but I haven't seen much evidence of --"

"Oh," Biggles said suddenly, in a very different tone, sitting up straight. "There he is."

Algy might have suspected his cousin was merely trying to derail the argument, but in fact it was true. The tall, slim, slightly limping figure who had entered the dimly lit room was unmistakable, and as he swept past their supposed target, Algy saw that Biggles had an alert energy about him, the slightly crumpled look of a moment ago vanished instantly.

"That'll be the handoff," Biggles murmured, barely moving his lips. "Oh, he's good, I didn't even see his hand go to his pocket."

"Shall we call the Yard?" Algy muttered, trying to similarly keep his lips still and look interested in his pint. "I can go find a phone immediately."

"Don't be absurd, if we call out the cavalry in such a public place, it doesn't matter if they have the exits covered. He'll vanish and he'll be in the wind again."

"You needn't sound so cheerful about that," Algy said between his teeth. 

"My only objective is recovering the stolen film before it vanishes from London," Biggles said briskly. "In fact," he added, as von Stalhein's head swiveled and it was clear that he had become aware of them. "Let's go do that." Biggles rose from their table, all but bouncing to his feet, positively vibrating with energy.

"Oh, no you don't -- Biggles, why --"

But Biggles was already up and headed across the room. Algy saw von Stalhein considering whether to duck away, but before he could make a decision, Biggles had already slid up to an adjoining seat at the bar. Algy followed in the hope of keeping his best friend out of trouble, assuming that was even possible.

Biggles was bright, alert, completely on in a way that he hadn't been for the last few days, the case treated as an afterthought when it was clear that he'd rather be flying. Now, Algy watched him come to life exactly as if he had his hands on the controls of a new model of machine. He put his elbow on the bar and said casually to von Stalhein, "May I show you some proper British hospitality and buy you a drink?"

"If you must," von Stalhein said with a grimly resigned air that echoed Algy's own. 

The seat at von Stalhein's other side was open -- he'd picked a place at the bar with clear visibility on all sides -- and Algy slid into it. Von Stalhein tensed visibly as he was boxed in. Good, Algy thought; best for him to know he was surrounded by the police and one step from handcuffs.

There was a small commotion at the back. Von Stalhein's contact had attempted to slip into the alley and ran smack into Gaskin's men. Well, that was one down, anyway.

Von Stalhein's gaze flashed to the door to the alley, then back to Biggles, who had beckoned the bartender. "What'll you have?" Biggles inquired with the same calm air he might have used to take the table's orders in the Aero Club. "Brandy? Cognac?"

"You are free to recommend something," von Stalhein said. He was looking at Biggles as if he didn't know what to make of him. Algy didn't blame him.

Biggles ordered three brandies. Algy set down his half-drunk pint and accepted it. Biggles hadn't touched the other, but he raised his brandy glass to von Stalhein and took a sip.

"What do you want?" von Stalhein demanded through half-closed lips.

"Oh, did you notice that interesting little interlude at the back?" Biggles asked, as von Stalhein's gaze darted once more to the half-open door to the alley. "It seems the local police are looking for a missing item. It's not too important, and should we find it, we'll be sure and return it to them. Have you seen anything that might have been left lying about, on a table, perhaps?"

"No," von Stalhein said. He raised his glass and took a large slug.

"Maybe you should look around." Biggles leaned near to him, their shoulders brushing, while Algy watched in half-mesmerized fascination and wondered if his cousin was aware that he was like that with no one else, even people very close to him. "I wouldn't want to be the fellow caught with such an object on him, and it seems that the police are searching men leaving at both doors. Luckily, it's easy for an item to go missing in such a place as this."

"I can imagine." Von Stalhein put down his drained glass and dabbed at his mouth fastidiously with a handkerchief. "Talking to you has been ... curious, as always."

Biggles laid a hand on his arm, the touch light, but von Stalhein went very still. He looked at the fingers resting against his sleeve, then at Biggles.

"There is a private fire escape upstairs," Biggles said quietly. "It goes down the back. The door is locked, so they are not watching it."

He lifted his hand; von Stalhein looked at it briefly, and then rose in a single swift motion. Algy lunged to his feet to follow, but Biggles stopped him with a hand. "No, sit down," he said, and Algy turned back, actually furious, torn between following von Stalhein -- making a beeline for the stairs -- and possibly decking his cousin ... and saw that von Stalhein's handkerchief had been left crumpled on the indifferently cleaned bar top.

Biggles picked it up. Algy glimpsed the film canister that had been tucked into it. Biggles cracked it open with a thumbnail to make sure the film was inside, and then it all went into his pocket, canister, silk handkerchief, and all.

Von Stalhein was gone; Algy hadn't even seen him go up the staircase. Algy scowled. "What happened to arresting him?"

"I didn't come here to arrest anyone," Biggles said mildly. He set down his barely touched drink and bounced out of his seat with a sunbeam energy. "I told you, Algy, I just wanted to get the film back. Let's go return it to its rightful owners."

And if he glanced briefly up the stairs as they left, Algy reckoned he could let it go; they had got what they came for, after all.

[2qties]

☄️ ; STUPID, HE SAID.

synopsis : starting out can always be scary. don't know what to do, how to act, how to be. but that shouldn't be a problem for a photographer as skilled as renowned Tomioka Giyu.

🌀 more : model reader , photographer giyu, reader is a numnuts (clueless) , stupid peace sign , giyu is a bit mean , proofread .

"You don’t seem experienced at this," he remarked bluntly, casually wiping the lens of his camera. Though his focus appeared to be on his task, it was clear from the way his gaze lingered in his peripheral vision that he was watching you nervously fidget with the hem of your baby blue plaid sundress.

And he was right—you couldn’t deny it. You’d only joined the pageant because a friend, too scared to go alone, had persuaded you. It wasn’t your fault that you now found yourself standing before a renowned photographer, flown all the way from your hometown to Japan just for this moment. It wasn’t your idea to be chosen out of all the contestants.

"Who enters an event they know nothing about?" he asked, settling into his chair and tilting his head to look up at you.

"Cut it out with the dissing," you snapped without thinking, only to quickly clamp your mouth shut. What were you doing? For goodness' sake, you couldn’t just say that. It wasn’t because he was professional, wealthy, or intelligent—it was because he was a stranger. And, you supposed, offering respect was the bare minimum of human decency.

His expression remained mostly unchanged, save for the slight raise of his eyebrows. He let out a quiet hum of acknowledgment before adjusting the camera and pointing it directly at you. "Pose," he instructed curtly, wasting no time.

"Just any random pose?" You inquired, a slight tilt of the head.

"Just a random one," he confirmed, his tone unwavering.

His jaw nearly hit the floor at your audacity as you casually raised your hand and flashed a peace sign. "Put. That. Hand. Down," he insisted, his voice firm. "No, I will not have it. Is that it? A peace sign? You strut onto that stage all confident, and now that you've been chosen, you give me a peace sign for a modeling shot?" His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Must I contort you like a doll to get a proper pose?" he asked, his frustration clear.

"I don't think I'd like that," you replied, shrinking under his gaze.

"Then don't flash me a PEACE SIGN!" he snapped, clearly exasperated.

He did, in fact, end up contorting you like a doll for the right poses. Despite your lack of experience, he couldn’t just dismiss you. People were drawn to beautiful models, and you had to be beautiful. It was also, albeit faintly, because you did have the potential to pull off the right poses—you just lacked the knowledge of which ones to hit.

Nearly every day, week after week, he photographed you in various locations, with different poses, outfits, and settings—everything changing constantly.

Yet one thing remained constant: whenever you took a selfie to send home or post online, you'd still flash that stupid peace sign. Was it a signature? A trademark? Something you couldn't shake off, no matter how hard you tried?

Either way, it was stupid. To Giyu, at least.

Winter had arrived, and as usual, he rose early to prepare for another shoot. The snow created the perfect backdrop—who didn’t love the first snowfall? Apparently, you didn’t. You huddled against the cold, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Despite your outfit being cute, it was anything but suitable for the frigid weather you considered absolutely terrible.

"It's the last one, calm down," he said, dismissing your whine as he angled his camera at you. You were posed above a stone wall, with the camera capturing the view from below—framing the soft snowflakes drifting down, soon to blanket the streets. But it wasn't just the snow that stood out; it was you. Your cheeks, tinged a soft pink from hours in the cold, were a sweet contrast against the pale hue of your clothing and the white snow surrounding you.

He snapped several photos before shaking the snow from his hair and standing up. The rest of the photography team helped you down as everyone began packing up for the night.

He packed his camera away as you rubbed your hands together to warm them. "Aren't you going to take your usual selfie?" he muttered, just loud enough for you to catch it.

"No way I'm using my hands in this weather, they're practically frozen," you joked, glancing up as he stood, his gaze fixed on you intently. Without a word, he pulled out his phone.

"Too frozen for another peace sign?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he raised his phone, ready to snap a shot of the two of you.

You fell quiet for a moment before laughing, then raised your hand in your usual pose, the peace sign making its inevitable appearance.

"C'mon, you do it too," you teased, still holding the peace sign as you looked at him with a playful grin.

"But it's stupid," he replied, shaking his head with a small smile, though his eyes still lingered on you.

"Can't be that stupid if you pulled out your phone for it," you shot back, grinning as you held the peace sign a little higher.

"Oh, alright, then," he said with a sigh, reluctantly raising his hand in a peace sign of his own, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before he snapped the picture.

☄️.png ] ; i hope you enjoy !! first winter post from shulya 💙 .

[vampirehizzies]

🎵 pls 🥺

i was going to actually write for treemina djats au but i got lazy so here take what's been sitting in my wip draft for chapter 2 for weeks <3 warning for slight tiktok bashing

--------

THE SECRET OF LAMINA ABRAMS: A BIOGRAPHY by Persephone Price

Although they would ultimately become well known for their electric chemistry and the fierce bond that inspired such vivacious, passionate music, it wasn't all smooth sailing. In fact, Miss Abrams distinctly recalls that the band had not welcomed her with open arms as one would believe. "I understood their distrust, of course," the star conceded with a bright, knowing smile. "Just as I understood that I would have to prove myself to earn their confidence. To perform with The Covey, to perform with Treech... it was an opportunity that I would not let slip from my grasp." The world remains thankful that she tirelessly fought to earn a place alongside them onstage.

--

If Sejanus Plinth was expecting a chorus of celebratory cheers echoing throughout the studio, he was unfortunately to be disappointed. The members of The Covey instead stared owlishly at him with varying expressions, ranging from dubious boredom and neutrality to annoyance and slight curiosity.

Mizzen, at 19, only cared to update the band's Instagram and be an extra body on the small tour bus Plinth Records had assigned to them, grateful for the benefits that his bond with Coral provided him. The kid's priorities were understandably limited to proving his usefulness and enjoying the privilege of being kept under his older sister's wing.

Or, at least, they all allowed him to believe he earned his keep, because he was more or less a sweet, enthusiastic teenager, invigorated by a life on the road and charming the jaded, cynical group of twenty-somethings who had been through the trenches of adulthood with his boundless optimism. There was also the fact that everyone had the sense not to question Mizzen's place, for fear of provoking Coral's temper, an alarming side effect of her admirably fierce protectiveness.

Lucy Gray was easily adaptable and more than eager to share her talent, so long as she retained the spotlight that was naturally a lead singer's domain. Treech had his own doubts, of course, but respected all that Mr Plinth had done for them and was willing to put his reservations aside. Brandy and Tanner accepted the fact that they had little say in the band's affairs, anyway, despite Mr Plinth's claim that this was a democracy - a statement which had earned him a wild, taunting grin from Coral, who knew damn well that she called the shots.

Predictably, Coral's mouth widened in that same shark-tooth beam she had become infamous for, a vicious grin that only ever seemed to soften for her little brother. It was clear to everyone involved that the temperamental woman was anything but happy, despite her misleading expression. She leaned back arrogantly in her seat, legs spread out in a strange show of dominance, her elbows propped up onto the table that functioned as a gathering spot, both for professional meetings and as a place where the band played card games on their downtime.

"Now, tell me," she began, voice low and dangerous, advising Mr Plinth to tread lightly and with an abundance of caution, "why exactly would we want a collaboration with fresh blood? Does the baby musician even have an album out yet? Or is she one of those talentless hacks on TikTok who become famous for their pretty faces and excessive abuse of auto tune?"

Treech decided not to comment, knowing when to pick his battles when it came to Coral. The truth was, he also often found himself wincing when the latest new trendy pop star inevitably turned out to be a model-gorgeous influencer with good looks and little musical skill, poorly off key and obviously aided by extensive technology use. It was that type of "creator" (both male and female, he pointed out to fend off accusations of misogyny from Brandy, who was always eager to pick a fight with him) unfortunately saturating the music industry, which nowadays prioritized a song's ability to be repurposed into a 30 second TikTok background track rather than its quality, passion, emotion.

However, he was careful not to write off all TikTokers as shallow and superficial, because the world wasn't that simple as the people addicted to hatred and finger-pointing wanted to believe. The Covey owed much of their success to Mizzen's networking skills on a broad range of social media platforms, and several members of their fan base had contributed to their growing popularity by posting video clips of their performances at nightclubs and cafes.

For all of its faults and the aggravating trends of misinformation that ran rampant on the app, Treech knew that it had some redeemable qualities. While he didn't entirely disagree with Coral, Treech had to fight back the impulse to come to the defense of that stupid app.

He bit his tongue, even as withholding the truth of his opinion left an acidic taste crawling down his throat, bitter like the straight vodka Coral and Brandy always seemed to enjoy after a show. (The memory of the women swapping a bottle of the vulgar, barely drinkable clear fluid back and forth, throwing their heads back until their necks were exposed and laughing manically at the bitter taste, still made Treech shudder, as did the traumatizing incident of having come back to the studio later to retrieve his forgotten jacket only to find them engaged in a heated makeout.)

Mr Plinth, face blank and giving away nothing, seemed unfazed by Coral's hostility, which was something that made Treech both greatly respect and fear for the man. "This baby musician, as you call her, works with an old friend of mine over at Capitol Records. She might be a newcomer, but my friend believes that she shows great promise and future potential. I am inclined to trust his instincts that a collaborative project would benefit all parties."

His polite, smooth cadence, meant to placate Coral and subdue her into acceptance, did no such thing. Treech often found that the poor man underestimated Coral's pride, her overwhelming need to be in control. It was clear she was gearing up to continue the argument, but much to everyone's surprise, it was Lucy Gray who intervened, gliding over in smooth, graceful movements and gently placing a hand on the girl's elbow.

Treech could only observe, mildly perplexed, as Lucy Gray whispered some indecipherable words in the belligerent woman's ear, her dark brown curls obscuring her face as she spoke. What was even more surprising was that Lucy Gray's touch had a visibly calming effect on Coral, and she seemed to relax into the contact, her eyes no longer glittering with malice.

He had little time to examine what that was about, because after listening to their lead singer, Coral continued her interrogation of Mr Plinth, although less combative, and with her hand resting on Lucy Gray's where it remained clutching her elbow. "Well, at least tell us a little more about this mystery new artist we're supposed to link ourselves up with. Convince me she's worth it," she challenged. Although well-hidden and an almost minute, unnoticeable detail, Treech's attention still snagged on the way Lucy Gray ran her fingers slightly down Coral's arm, as if to soothe her, and observed how her heavy breathing evened out in response.

It was bewildering, Lucy Gray's talents of bewitching just about anyone, ensnaring even the coldest of people with her beguiling charm. Of course, this did not extend to Brandy, an onlooker who regarded the scene with narrowed eyes and an impatient huff. Treech's eyes darted to the Southern girl's twin brother, who retained the bliss of ignorance, apathetically twirling his drum sticks with a repetitive twitch of his fingers.

"You will not be disappointed," Mr Plinth promised cheerily. Coral still seemed doubtful, and even Treech wasn't so quick to accept some random newcomer into their band that, even with its occasional bouts of infighting, had become a tight-knit group and something of a family to him.

As if sensing their wary hesitance, Mr Plinth retrieved several Ziploc baggies from the mini fridge humming quietly in a corner of the room, one that served as a stockpile of fuel for late night songwriting and recording. "I have sandwiches for everyone!" A clear attempt at a peace offering. Despite the man's best intentions, Treech sometimes wondered if they were more a wolf pack to be tamed by his attempts of kindness rather than musicians on equal footing with their producer.

Well, he wasn't one to turn down a free sandwich. Treech politely accepted a PB&J with a grateful nod, relishing in how the two liquid-like substances combined on his tongue. Once sandwiches were distributed to the band members, all of whom proved rather ravenous - especially Mizzen, even though he was long past the trappings of puberty - their producer began the work of convincing them all to embrace this new creative direction. Really, Treech would have preferred the pretenses be dropped, since it always came down to Coral's decisions on the matter, and even her own brother wasn't extended the courtesy of being allowed to give his input.

"She did, in fact, get her start on TikTok," Mr Plinth began, which prompted a disdainful snort from Coral and a skeptical raising of her dark red eyebrows. "Have a little faith, Miss Gilbert. The girl has an excellent voice with great potential, and my friend, Pup, has a unique ability to spot talent. He wouldn't just pick up any so called influencer off the street. Why don't you look her up, see for yourself?"

The polished, well groomed man pulled out an expensive looking phone from his suit pocket. Most likely due to Mr Plinth's well adjusted attitude, Treech always forgot how well off the man was - at least, compared to the band who had been forced to adjust to unforgiving rent and restrictive expenses that confined them to the cheapest housing they could find that would accommodate this number of people.

Mr Plinth had never faced that sort of issue, especially since the wealthy record label was founded by his father, Strabo Plinth, and passed on to him upon his retirement. There were many instances when the band members found it difficult not to be amused by Mr Plinth's guilt over his inheritance, or, as a kid of Mizzen's generation would call it, "nepo baby" status.

They all gathered around their producer, straining to see such a small screen especially when seven people meant to look at it. Soon, the loading circle was replaced with the image of a hauntingly pale girl with sweet features and round eyes that seemed vulnerable and innocent, her face framed by thick red tresses, neatly brushed out and held back by a dark purple headband. Treech was suddenly aware of a tingling sensation deep underneath his skin, something nagging at him, a knowing he desperately grasped at even as he failed to recall its source.

Her lips parted, and she began to sing, the notes hitting at all the right places, a melodious sound, so exquisite it made him crave more. Treech recognized this warm feeling exploding behind his rib cage and washing over him like nectar, and he was also astoundingly certain he recognized her.

As the girl sang, her voice filled the entire room, and they all remained quiet so as not to disturb the musician on Mr Plinth's screen. Even Coral was taken aback, stunned into reluctant admiration. The video came to an end, and once Treech was finally able to tear his gaze away from the elusive TikToker - an immediate, deep sense of loss invaded him, and he longed to see more of her, assaulted by his own terrible need - he could see that even stubborn, infuriating Coral was impressed by what she had just seen.

Tanner and Mizzen, while releasing identical appreciative whistles, didn't seem to care one way or another, which was to be expected from the two of them. While the kid scurried off to engage in whatever it is teenagers found entertaining nowadays (brushing past Tanner, who grunted something along the lines of "watch it, fetus" under his breath), with eerily mouse-like movements, the Texan twins murmured to each other in their own personal bubble of side conversation, and Coral seemed to be wordlessly communicating with Lucy Gray. Treech was left on his own to stare off into the distance, still recovering from the clip of the girl's voice and reeling with the knowledge that he might give anything to hear it again.

Now if only he could simply figure out where he had seen her before.

[linkemon]

Loid Forger x Reader (selfship)

Comission for LeeJiiYoung who asked for a platonic relationship on the basis of spy cooperation.

Friendly reminder that English is not my first languge. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

➢ When you got the opportunity to be one of the Strix's top operations managers, you knew this was your chance. You've been trying to break through in your job for a couple of years and to no avail. But now that some old farts have retired, it's your chance to prove yourself.

➢ You've heard a lot of good things about Twilight. From reports and from their predecessors. But that doesn't mean you knew what he looked like. It was safer for him and for you. Before the start of the mission, you arranged a short introductory talk. You heard the determination in his voice. You didn't lie. Everything is going to go well and that's the end of it!

➢ You called each other at scheduled times to check on mission progress. What annoyed you was that he never gave too many details. On one hand, it was an advantage, on the other, your curiosity couldn't stand it.

➢ The first time he called you out of hours was when he needed to rent the entire castle. Costs have skyrocketed and your future promotion was on a dangerous wedge. That was the only time you contacted him in an unprofessional way, making it clear that he was never to do it again. When asked why, he said it was crucial to the child involved in the operation. You hung up the phone and laughed hysterically.

➢ Many agents ask for autographs of a mysterious spy, completely ignoring the fact that you've never met him. They annoyed you so much that you gave official orders for him to sign the card several times. Your informants sent it to you. Then you cut the strips and gave them to the workers. Ever since then, they've treated you like you're the best boss ever.

➢ The man is a role model for them. If you're having a hard time motivating your people, just mention that Twilight could do it. This trick always works.

➢ Recently, when you were rushing to your small base, in a rented tenement house, a tragedy almost happened. You have received an anonymous message that Twilight may be about to be attacked. Every second counted and unfortunately for you, you bumped into one of your neighbours. You sprained your ankle. Nothing you couldn't handle but you were in a real hurry. You imperiously told the blonde to bring you upstairs as punishment. To your surprise, he did it quickly. His daughter was clattering a few steps behind you. You've met them a few times since then and you've always shot warning glances. Fortunately, Twilight received the coded information in time and repelled the enemy. You prefer not to think what would have happened if he had fallen that day. Probably the end of peace and your boss job...

➢ One day you were coming home with a bag containing tapes related to the mission. When you felt a tug, you realized that someone had stolen it from you. Before you knew it, a woman knocked down two hooligans and gave you your property. You could have done it alone but you were glad that someone helped you. Imagine your surprise when the woman introduced herself as Yor Forger - the wife of the neighbour crashing you down the stairs. Her daughter, Anya, was staring at you so intensely that you think you'll remember her gaze for the rest of your life.

➢ The family invited you for tea but you declined. It wasn't good for someone to remember you too well and start asking questions. You see them from time to time. They are suspiciously frequent in your area. You even started to wonder if they were working for a foreign country. You'll have to poke around a bit.

[booboipresents]

🕶🥂

Meeting George..

Task accomplished.

He has attained a friend who went by the name of Karl, now he shall capture more of these NPCS to befriend. Collecting em like Pokemon, eh? Objective 2 Befriend another NPC. Hands quickly shoved into his pockets; his eyes seemed to catch a interesting individual. Mark had definitely heard about him. A model, and also a person who knew how to keep all eyes on them. His fashion stood out like a vivid marker. It was in-style to say the least. Another feature that made Mark's eyes widen was his heterochromia. A soft blue paired with a different mahogany. He was pretty; that Mark will admit. But if he were to be crystal clear, not his type. Seemed like a fun person to be around, so why shouldn't he give it a go?

Stiffened posture relaxed to find himself walking over to the male who was holding a small shot. His left hand found itself to the back of his neck, scratching it for no particular reason. Just a little quirk he possessed and displayed when he was nervous. "Uh, hey. Uhm, I'm Mark. You probably don't know me but I'm new and just trying to familiarize more of these faces. "

"Would you let me take a shot with you? Y'know, just to get to know you and all that jazz." A smile crept into him as he explained his dire situation. Would this random guy help him out? I mean, he seemed popular. Mark had conducted a study on whether being friends with a popular person increases your validity and acceptance in an unknown environment.

Spoiler; it does in fact.

That wasn't the only reason. This guy seemed chill and laid back. Could making more friends really hurt? He was trying to expand his social circle after all.

He can just hope it goes well.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Their very first 'encounter' wasn't in person, or even him directly contacting with Vlad, but rather, Danny discovering one of the tapes his parents had of the older half-ghost. The boy couldn't believe his eyes as he read the title on the tape that somehow miraculously survived being in the Fentons' house for what looked like twenty years.

'Halfa Experiment 06: Flight.'

He had been digging through this box of junk looking for something his parents wouldn't miss if he used it to replace part of the broken body of his latest model rocket and instead found something that completely shattered everything about the world as he knew it if the tape was what he thought it was:

He wasn't the only halfa.

If the tape alone was older than him, then whoever this was about was clearly an adult, an adult who knew more about being a halfa than he did, an adult who maybe Danny could trust and confide with, a mentor that could help him control his powers, maybe even learn ghost stuff from.

He wasn't the only halfa.

His parents not only knew that halfas were real, but had done EXPERIMENTS on one.

He wasn't the only halfa!

Or... or at least, he wasn't the only halfa to ever exist. Considering his parents and their enthusiasm for tearing ghosts apart, there was a chance that the other halfa... wasn't...

He took it to the tape player as fast as he could, he needed to see what was on this tape, he needed to know if he was really alone or not.

When he put the old thing in, rewound it, and let it play, the picture was grainy, but clear enough to see three people; his parents in their twenties and someone else who had a bandaged up face his parents excitedly waved at the camera while the third person seemed more reserved. He seemed to be using the sleeves of his lab coat to cover up strange looking bruises...

"Two weeks after the Portal incident, we discovered that Vlad had developed the ability to switch between a regular human form and a spooky ghost form!" The younger version of his mother excitedly told the camera. "As he described the sensation as 'It feels like I'm half-a-human, half-a-ghost', we have coined his current state of being as a 'halfa' and are recording these to show future generations of the pros and cons of this bizarre condition."

"In our last few tapes, we tested out some of the following: human endurance vs ghost endurance, that led to a quick dive into the regenerative properties a halfa possesses, spectral body manipulation, effects of overshadowing... but today, V-man's gonna go for something a little more out there, we're not just going to hover, we're gonna fly! On the count of three, ready? One two..."

"Jack! Put me down! I don't- I don't know how to-"

"Three!"

Danny watched as a black ring appeared around the white-haired stranger, turning him from a human into a blue skinned ghost with black hair.

He winced as Vlad was slammed into the ground. The transformation into ghost form didn't save the bandaged ghost from gravity.

"...So far it seems that the halfa is not able to fly as well as a ghost can." Maddie narrated obliviously as Vlad groaned in pain. "Although further testing might be required as Vlad's powers might need more time to stabilize."

"Please... stop..." the grounded halfa wheezed. "No... No more..."

"C'mon V-man! We know you have more in you than that!"

The ghost shot the camera.

After that, it cut off, leaving Danny staring at the now ejected tape, both relieved that *he* wasn't his parents guinea pig for those tests and just.. confused.

_____

For their actual first encounter, Danny, Tucker and Sam had done more research into the mysterious first halfa prior to finding him.

Sam had to get her parents to hire several Private Investigators to look into him because Tucker and his PDA couldn't find anything that even alluded to the fact this man ever existed at all, but even then, the investigators didn't even bring back much.

They learned his name was Vladimir Masters. They learned that he had been a student at Wisconsin University but couldn't graduate as he disappeared under mysterious circumstances, they learned that after he reappeared, he hadn't even so much as set a single foot outside his house in twenty years. But most importantly, they learned his current address: a cabin deep in a Wisconsin forest.

Danny told his parents he was going to spend the weekend at Tuckers, Tucker told his parents he was spending the weekend at Danny's, Sam told hers that she was spending the weekend at Star's (she knew they liked the A-list kids more than her actual friends) and told her grandma where she was actually going.

Grandma Ida agreed to drive them there.

After a long drive and a long hike to the middle of nowhere, they found it.

"Huh, I was expecting more chain link fences, bear traps, and 'keep out' signs." Sam mused as she looked around the sparse clearing the cabin was located. "Not even a single ghost shield."

"Sam, he's a half-ghost who lives alone." Danny reminded her. "Why would he want or need a ghost shield?"

"And a guy's gotta get delivery if he's not gonna leave the house ever." Tucker shrugged "Maybe he learned not to scare the guys with his food or other stuff the hard way."

"Here goes nothing..." Danny muttered as he knocked on the door.

The trio waited with baited breath as they heard a series of locks on the other side of the door being undone. The door opened just enough for them to see a glowing eye peering out from the pitch darkness of the cabin and the sheen of the chain attached to the door that caught the eye's soft light.

"Hello..?"

"Hi!" the younger halfa gave the older one a friendly smile. "I'm Danny Fenton-"

The man slammed the door shut and proceeded to re-lock the series of locks.

"Wait!" Danny phased through the door. "..I uh, think we got off on the wrong foot there. Can we talk? ...Halfa to halfa?"

"Do your parents know that you're here?" The man asked, his expressions hard to read as all Danny could see of him was his glowing eyes.

"No, they think I'm at Tucker's house."

"Do they know I'm alive?"

"I haven't talked to them about you at all."

"Thank goodness..." Vlad let out a sigh of relief. "And do they know about your condition?"

"No, I haven't told them yet."

"Smart choice, boy." The man nodded. "Don't tell them, do everything in your power to assure that they never find out. In fact, pack everything you can't live without and run for your life. Don't leave them any notes, don't say goodbye to them in person, just grab and go."

"Wait! slow down! Why do I need to leave? They don't know!"

"And you should take advantage of that before-"

Knock knock knock.

"Uh Danny? Are things... good in there?" Tucker asked from the other side of the door.

Vlad unlocked the door once more and undid the chain, letting Tucker and Sam in.

"Wow.. it's only 5pm and the inside of this place is so dark it's almost like its absorbing all the light around it." Sam commented as her eyes attempted to adjust to the abyss that was the first halfa's living quarters.

"My apologies, I don't need light to see so I didn't think to incorporate it into the wiring." Vlad explained as he let ectoplasm glow in his right hand, illuminating the room, but somehow not the man that made the light. Even the hand holding the ectoplasm was just a silhouette that the three couldn't make out.

The room they were in was a far cry from what the three were expecting from the living space of an extremely agoraphobic half-dead man with a questionable mental state.

There wasn't any chicken scratch ramblings scrawled over the walls, furniture destroyed in fits of ghostly rage, or piles of trash on the floor (not that the kids were complaining). Furniture and decor were sparse, but still present. They were in what seemed to be a living room judging by the couch and coffee table, there were a few bookshelves embedded into the walls that included topics like knitting, cooking, the paranormal, and other miscellaneous topics. Packers' memorabilia was hung up on the walls aside from a signed football that had a pedestal dedicated to it. Tucker was quick to notice that the man didn't seem to have a TV or any form of electronic devices in what he could see of his house for that matter, but now didn't seem like the right time to say anything.

The three took a seat on the couch while Vlad stood.

"What? No conspiracy boards?" Danny joked in an attempt to lighten the tense mood before clearing his throat as Vlad didn't respond to the joke at all. "...So are you afraid that my parents are going to experiment on me if they find out, like what they did to you..?"

"Experiments are the least of your worries to be honest..." Vlad stated with a matter-of-fact tone. "And before you ask, no, your parents wont hate you or try to kill or dissect you if they find out what you are. They'll do something far worse."

"What could be worse than them trying to tear me molecule from molecule?!"

"Have you ever heard the phrase 'The road to Hell is paved with good intentions' my boy?"

"I... guess? Why?"

"A long time ago before I knew what they were capable of, your parents were my best friends, practically family to me. After the portal accident, they were the first ones I told about my... newfound circumstance to, and at first, things were going good, great even."

"And then they started experimenting?"

"Again, the experiments weren't the biggest problem. If you saw the tapes, that was three college kids being idiots and one of them getting worn out as things went on."

"...And thrown into walls..." Danny muttered under his breath.

"I want to reiterate: your parents wont hate you, won't try to dissect you, and won't try to kill you if you tell them. You're their own son and I'm sure that they'll love you no matter what. In fact, if my experiences with them is anything to go by, they will do anything and everything they can to help, even go as far as to move mountains for your sake. But don't let your guard down and assume that means that they'll stop hating ghosts, they won't see your ghost half as just a part of you, they're used to you being human, so they're more likely to see it as some kind of 'supernatural disease with benefits', because they love you, because they don't want their son to 'succumb to this disease', they'll try to 'cure' you and wont stop until..."

The light in Vlad's hands didn't glow brighter, but it did finally reveal what he was to the trio, and as he expected, the three hugged each other and screamed in pure terror at the sight of his disfigured form.

"...Until either they kill you trying or you escape on your own."

Describe Vlad and Danny’s first meeting, in the world where Vlad is genuinely terrified of the Fentons and is trying to save Danny from them.

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Imagine Aneka coming to you to convince Okoye to let her keep the daggers

"Did you not like them?" Shuri asked a hint of disappointment in her voice.

Aneka frantically shook her head. "Of course Princess Shuri I adore them even more so than the spears."

"Then why are you returning them to me?" Shuri pushed eyebrows raised in confusion. When Aneka just looked away instead of answering. She could come only come to one conclusion eyes widening in disbelief at the thought. "Aneka please tell you didn't somehow break them. Those were the only pair we made so far."

"No Princess Shuri I didn't promise" Aneka reassured her. She sighed knowing she had to be truthful, or else the princess wouldn't take them back. And it was already made clear she wasn't allowed to use them in battle anymore. "The General is adamant we must uphold tradition, and use the weapon our ancestors picked for us. Why change when it isn't necessary."

Shuri brought a hand up face-palming herself grumbling under her breath. "For Bast's sake that woman can be infuriating sometimes." Shuri had spent the past few months pushing for more upgrades to the armor and weapons. Not just for the Dora Milaje but every army in Wakanda, and all of the other tribes were receptive of the changes. But Okoye fought her every step of the way so far not letting a single modification be made.

Shuri was at the point where she just wanted to pull rank and command the General to make the changes. The only thing stopping her from doing so was the fact that Okoye wasn't just some solider. In charge of protecting the royal family. Her and Okoye had a close and personal relationship, and doing something like that would be crossing a unspoken boundary.

Aneka's eye lit up when she saw you walk by on your way to your own personal work station. "My princess there might actually be a way to convince the General, but I would need to borrow one of your scientists."

"Who and-" Shuri started to question until Aneka nodded in your direction. Her hand shot out to clasp the Dora Milaje on the arm as she turned to her. A look of mischief on her face "that is actually a genius idea Aneka. I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner."

You were a former Dora Milaje turned combat strategist and weapon scientist. Most of your days were spent coming up with new weapon models for Shuri to build, or ways to upgrade the already existing ones. Not to mention battle aircrafts and so on. You only participated with mission plans when someone asked for you by name. You use to be one of the fiercest and dangerous warriors for Wakanda, but then you suffered a life-threatening injury. During the battle against Thanos, and unfortunately by the time. They got you back to Wakanda for Shuri to work her magic. It was too late while she was able to save your life her procedures were unable to completely heal the injury. You could've went back into the field, but not without the risk of upsetting the injury again.

The Dora Milaje held a ceremony for your retirement and even today your spear and armor was memorialized to never be use again. There was no one who missed your presence on a daily basis more than Okoye, and even though she would never admit it. Everyone could tell by the way she made a habit to still include in training exercises, or how she would stop by the lab with a coffee or lunch for you. Okoye had yet to reveal her feelings for you yet, but they were pretty obvious.

Shuri skipped over to your work station throwing her arms around your neck, and resting her chin on your shoulder. "Hi y/n what are you up to?"

You brought a hand up to pat her on the arm. "Hi princess I'm working on some upgrades for the Dora's spear. I know you've been fighting tooth and nail with Okoye to change anything about the armor, or include a new weapon. I figure this would be something she wouldn't be able to turn down."

"Well that does sound interesting but there might be something else you could do for me" Shuri whispered in your ear. You leaned your head back with a raised eyebrow hearing the mischief in her voice.

A Few Hours Later

"You know you don't always have to be the first one on the field, and the last one to leave." You said leaning up against the wall with your arms crossed.

Okoye came to a stop tilting her head to the side in confusion. You never showed up to her room unannounced. It was always planned and expected especially on her part. "Um y/n what are you doing here? I don't remember us having anything planned unless-" Her voice trailed off as she racked her brain trying to figure out did she forget about making plans with you. She had been pretty busy and stressed out lately with the Dora Milaje having to keep up with. All the ambushes on the Wakanda Outreach centers spread-out across the world.

It was unusual sight to see the General so flustered and unsure of herself. You were pretty sure that you were the only one who got to ever see her like this. And you prayed it stayed like that forever. You pushed off the wall to close the distance between the two of you placing a comforting hand on her arm. "Okoye" You called out to her softly

She looked up at you and when your eyes locked together. All of her worries and thoughts washed away as she nearly melted under your touch. "I should just let you in shouldn't I."

"Yes unless you don't want to I wouldn't hold it-" She pressed a single finger to your lips making to stop you from finishing your sentence. "Hush entle don't ever question rather or not I want you around." You gave her a nod and followed her as she went to her room. Once inside you took your usual spot in the middle of bed laid out on your side. Okoye ventured into the bathroom to wash up and get into some more comfortable clothing. She took her time knowing you would still be waiting there when she got done.

Thirty minutes later Okoye exited the bathroom tossing her clothes into the dirty bin. Before climbing into the bed with you wasting no time to let her body rest in your arms. If you ever told anyone that the General was the little spoon during your cuddle sessions with her on a daily basis. No one would believe you, they probably wouldn't believe she liked to cuddle in the first place. For a few minutes the two of you just laid there together. Both of your arms wrapped around her waist, her face buried in the crook of your neck, and yours resting a top of hers. It was you who broke the silence.

"How was your day?"

"Mmmmmm" she let out a low hum snuggling up to you even more. "A bit less stressful than most we just returned from another meeting with the other countries. Their attacks and accusations are relentless I miss the old days y/n."

"I know times were more simpler back then, but you've been doing such a good job with everything going on. Who knows you might be able to put in that request for a Starbucks now. I think the Queen would grant it this time" You said letting out a giggle when she smacked your arm.

"Not that I'm complaining because I did need this, but what's up with the visit?" Okoye finally asked scooting up a little bit, and propping herself up on her elbows. You lifted your head up to look down at her. She had put on her serious impenetrable General face on that not even you could breakthrough. When she knew something was up.

"Akena dropped by the lab today to give the daggers back, and she didn't look very happy about it." You told her raising a accusatory eyebrow at her.

Okoye let out a exasperation sigh throwing her head back. "Not this again y/n I thought you of all people would understand."

"Just because she wants to use a different weapon, or add them to her arsenal doesn't mean. She's turning her back on the traditional spear, or trying to get rid of them." You argued bringing a hand to caress her cheek. Okoye almost leaned into the touch until she realized what was going on.

"Akena put you up to this didn't she" She accused.

"She might have asked me to say something on her behalf. She really does love those daggers, but its not just her. You've been fighting Shuri a lot on her new models as well" You said.

"Her armor designs are ridiculous" Okoye exclaimed rolling over onto her side. So now that her back was to you.

You planted a light kiss on her neck smirking when she shivered at the feel of your lips on her bare skin. Resting your chin on her shoulder you continued "the armor designs might be a little out there. But what about some modifications to the spear, or same armor just stronger. Would you be fighting me this hard?"

"You know that isn't a fair question, and yes I would if your ideas was just as crazy."

"Fine I'll talk to Shuri about toning down some of designs, and you agree to actually hear her out. Instead of shutting down all her ideas before she can even finish."

Okoye mumbled something you couldn't quite make out, but you did pick up the word love. It made you perk up a bit earning her a few more kisses. Okoye let out a real life giggle scrunching up her shoulders. "Okay okay I give I'll consider some of the modifications" she conceded.

"Akena gets to keep the daggers as well" You quickly added.

Okoye sighed "fine but exactly what am I getting out of all this?"

"A date with me because frankly I'm growing tired of waiting for you to make the first move. I mean for a General your woah- Your voice was cut off with a gasp as you were rolled over onto your back, and found both of your arms pinned above your head. Okoye straddling you her face only inches away from yours. You tried to find the words, but your voice was gone.

"Mmmm you were saying" Okoye said with a playful smirk.

Tag List: @danveration @romanoffomixam @xxromanoffxx @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @lizlil @be-missed

[stormblessed95]

Hi! I love your posts and hope you're having a great day. You mentioned GCF Osaka recently and I had a question about that because, unlike the music in Tokyo and Saipan, I found "Your Side of the Bed" to be somewhat of a confusing choice lyrically - starting a new relationship while still somewhat missing the old one - and I was wondering how you saw that musical choice, given how much thought we know JK puts into his music and edit choices for the GCFs. Thanks!

Sure, let's talk about GCF Osaka!

Disclaimer: this is ALL opinions. This is my interpretation of this video and these lyrics. This is NOT fact. No one has to agree or see the same things. We do not actually know why JK made the music and editing choices he did, all we can do is guess and speculate. And that I'd all I am doing here.

GCF in Osaka. Everyone go watch it. Even if you don't think you need to refresher before we talk about it, go give JK the views he deserves:

Song he used, Your Side of the Bed:

Honestly, excellent song. I really do love it. Thank you JK for introducing me to this song. It has made a home on some of my playlists.

So this first minute of this video is all just Bangtan traveling and eating. I'll make a note that I could be convinced that JK was sharing his hotel room with someone considering his snack table had double of everything on it. Lol but he also just likes to eat, so who knows. We then get a clip of jikook walking side by side with matching their pace. Feet right next to each other, it's obvious they would have had to be pressed very close together during that shot as they walked.

The music then cuts out for a moment, just for us to hear them giggling together over Jimin being silly. He does this again later in the video too, and he only cuts the music for Jimin, to hear his laugh. 3 times we hear Jimin and/or JK laugh in this video over the music. This once again highlights Jimin as special in this video. As our "main" model you might say. The rest of the video focuses on the vminkook outing and shopping trip they did together. And its very very clear that they were having insane amounts of fun the whole time. I absolutely love that so much for them. Idk what this move was Jimin came up with that Vmin did through the whole video though 🤣🤣 the silliness lol

Now let's talk lyrics and song choice! It didn't always line up this way, but the majority of the time the lyric "I got me someone else instead" came on, it was for Jimin and "He is taking your side of the bed" for Tae. Now personally, I think this is a nod to friendship vs romance. Let me explain.

This was the follow up to GCFT. It was the second GCF posted. And the message I think carried over. Toyko is obviously romantic. The message there is very clear, "I'll always be there for you. I love you." This wasn't really a message to us, this was a video FOR Jimin. The message, the feel, the tone of Toyko.... yeah that was all for Jimin. Army got to witness it and appreciate it, but that was a video for Jimin for sure. Osaka though, this message was for us. He is telling US something here. No its not that he used to date Tae and now he is dating Jimin. I think he is using Tae and Jimin to represent concepts here with the lyrics. Tae is representing fun and friendship. Jimin is representing love, happiness and romance.

So he is talking about how for so much of his life he put his value on his friendships. He placed them first, he gave them his free time, his free thoughts, his attention. Friends were the relationships he prioritized. Now though, Now he has "got someone else instead" meaning romance. Romance is taking that side of the bed. Its taking over that spot as his most valuable relationship in life. It doesn't mean his friendships are any less important and impactful for him, but the relationship that will be taking priority for him now would be the romance. He will place romance first and foremost in his life.

The song talks about how important that first relationship still is though. Which holds true, his friends are still important. They will have times when they take priority still, when they "keep him up at night" like the lyrics talk about, meaning he gives them his time instead of to his lover on occasion. Friendships still need to be cherished and nourished and fostered, even if romance enters the picture. But that romance will always be his priority now.

It's a video focused more on friendship that still managed to carry over the themes and ideas from Toyko and address them again here. He addresses the importance of his friendships while still highlighting his romance as his number one focus from now on.

Hopefully this makes sense. It's my thought process behind it all. And I very much so could be biased about it considering I do think Jimin and Jungkook are boyfriends. Like I said at the start, these are my personal opinions. You are absolutely free to disagree or agree with any or all of it. I hope it helped explain how I see things though and wasn't too confusing! 💜

[otakween]

Digimon Adventure (Blind Watch) - Episode 13

The epic finale to the first arc...wasn't that great :/ I dunno man, not only was the animation kinda sucky, but the reveal felt pretty anti-climactic to me. Again, would have been more epic if Angemon wasn't in the opening theme song. Also, the fact that he immediately disappears is a bummer, but I guess they wanted someone to "die" for that extra emotional oomph. I couldn't get any good screenshots of him because the karaoke subs were on screen for the majority of his appearance lol.

Digimon introduced: Angemon (and the giant version of Devimon)

Notes:

-I already mentioned it above, but something was off about the art in this episode. The characters all looked kind of off model and scrawny. At one point Mimi screams dramatically but has no expression on her face. I'd probably overlook these things as an 8 year old, but as an adult in 2022, once I noticed it I couldn't unsee it.

-At first I was happy to see all the kids ride in on their already evolved digimon because I was like "wow, no evolution sequences!" but then they made sure to de-evolve them so they could evolve again lol. I usually like transformation sequences in magical girl shows, but these ones just aren't that visually interesting and they break up the momentum of the action.

-This episode was like 80% battle and 20% lore, which is probably why I found it pretty boring. The lore was mostly just a repeat of "you guys are the chosen children who will conquer the darkness blah blah blah." I did like that they set up a clear cut motivation and method for the kids to get home (conquer all the darkness).

-Devimon looks a little too much like a dollar store Batman...

-It was kind of weird how Sora and Joe showed up at the last second and the other characters never acknowledged their absence. They seemed totally cool with going into the final battle without them.

-I guess a lot in this episode was foreshadowed in the previous one. The pacifism and the feathers raining down. Angemon's sacrifice had no emotional impact on me because I just met Angemon! (Like, I know he's kinda Patamon, but still. You wouldn't get emotional over a new Doctor [Who] you just met!)

-Angemon's voice doesn't fit his appearance at all lol. He sounds like maybe a 15 year old boy but then he's a ripped Adonis. Anime logic.

-Takeru gets a digiegg from Angemon. Is that going to be the next big reveal in arc number two? The egg hatching? I doubt Angemon is going to be the deus ex machina two arcs in a row. Then again it seems like he was the only one with the power to defeat "darkness" by a long shot.

-Didn't like that cheap ending where Devimon was like "Sike! This was never the final battle to begin with. This is only episode 13!" And he reveals there's plenty more "levels" to defeat. This has always been a shonen issue, you gotta make every battle feel like "the one" but then you gotta build hype for the next one that's supposed to be 10 times harder. Oh well, bring it on!

[bluesummers57]

Miraculous Ladybug Spoilers: Ephemeral and Gabriel Agreste!

Okay I really want to talk about the Sentimonster Adrien Theory after this episode. I've seen people try to comfort themselves in the idea that the ring motion Gabriel keeps making is just him being reminded of Emily, especially when he's guilty, because we saw Felix stealing the ring who could possibly hold the amok from Gabriel last season. But the thing is, he could've stole it back from Felix, the ring he has could actually be the right one, both could hold the amok.... But I think he definitely got the ring back on 'Gabriel Agreste', since Felix is in the trailer.

Anyway, there is absolutely nothing to dismiss this theory. I know some people don't mind Adrien being a sentimonster since technically a sentimonster can still be a person, a human being with emotions and thoughts and feelings and everything, and to be fair I get why it wouldn't matter either way, he's still Adrien. Nothing would change when it comes to that, really, he's still the same person. Other than the fact that he is being forced to do things, obviously, which is extremely sad and my goodness I wish it wasn't true. But also the idea that Gabriel could just snap his fingers and Adrien would cease from existence is heavy as heck. I don't think he would ever do that tho, Emily would never forgive him, but just the possibility makes me want to scream into a pillow out of frustration.

I feel like that was always my main issue with the Adrien Sentimonster theory, and of course before knowing everything we know about sentimonsters, I also thought it was a long shot and that being a sentimonster meant not existing really, but now we know it's not true. We know it's not how it works, and there is nothing to deny this theory. Absolutely nothing. And if it weren't for the angst of it all, I probably wouldn't mind. But it is extremely sad and Adrien doesn't deserve it one bit. I have this really strong headcanon too that Emily was an extremely kind and good person and just one of those people who couldn't stand letting someone feel hurt, and was very protective of Adrien. I imagine she would never, ever, take advantage of him and would always let him have the freedom of his own choices. Kind of like Ella's mom in Ella Enchanted? So I think she would be extremely disappointed in Gabriel and would never forgive him.

Of course, there is always the possibility that this was all arranged, that this was the plan all along between the two of them, maybe she agreed to everything before dying. But even still, I don't think she would agree with the way Gabriel has been treating his son. When Adrien said that his mother was the only one who could make him really laugh, it made sense to me that she loved him dearly and would do anything in her power to keep him happy. It made sense to me that she was an amazing person, just like Adrien, and Gabriel just lost himself when he lost her, went mad or something.

The Evil Emily theory would definitely break my heart, but nothing comes close to Sentimonster Adrien, and now we know it's probably true. If anyone had any doubts, this episode cleared things up. It was way too obvious. That terrifies me. Adrien's whole thing about wanting to please everyone, being the perfect son, is something completely out of his control. Feeling traped, having his nightmare be a literal cage, that's something he can't get away from. This episode proved that. We all know he would do anything for Ladybug and would never betray her, and we could tell he was going to fight the akuma, but as soon as Gabriel touched the ring, he gave up. He had zero control. And isn't that one of the reasons of Adrien's suffering? Not being able to do what he wants. And now we know it's not just about being a famous model and a famous fashion designer's son, honouring his mother - although his mind probably makes him think that, since that's what Gabriel says -, he has absolutely no choice on the matter. And that gives his relationship with Ladybug, being Chat Noir, his relationship with Plagg, his friendships (even his strong friendship with Chloe), a whole new intensity. It's all that he has. It's still kind of like his own freedom, just like it was before, but on a whole different perspective. This is Sad

does anyone feel like crying

[shoot-the-oneshot]

Counting the days: day 2

Series summary. You go to a friends bachelorette party in Italy and meet the man of your dreams, NOT, you didn’t see the part where you get kidnapped by a gangster on your friends itinerary. How will you handle being thrown into a life of guns and mafias.

Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Series masterlist

Run, that was the only word repeating in your head, run. So that’s what you did, while his back was turned you took off your now bare feet not making a sound. But as he said he would, he caught you before you even made it to the hallway. His large body pressing you into the column his hand gripping your throat.

“What did I just say? Maybe you do want me to chain you to bed.”

With him as close as he was you could feel a gun he had in his waistband digging painfully into your back. Oh how you wanted to grab it.

It would only take one shot and you could get away from him. But you knew how many men he had outside, they would be a bit harder to get through, so you kept still.

He kept you there as two people walked in. The older of the two speaking to your captor in Italian, you’ll keep the fact that you speak it hidden, could come in handy. So his name is Massimo, or at least that’s what the man called him.

“I have to go, Domenico will help you with anything you need.”

Massimo informs, pushing off you while you stayed against the bricks until the younger of the three men that you assume is Domenico, tells you to follow him back to your room.

For someone that didn’t want you escaping he gave you plenty of opportunities. You could definitely take Domenico, plus boss man was busy handling whatever he was doing. Or you could easily climb out the window. Just as you were about to do just that a gunshot made you freeze. It wasn’t aimed at you but you know what it meant when you deal with these kind of people.

Just play along is what you kept reminding yourself. He a tricked your family, your friends. He was obviously smart, but you hold his one weakness, you.

Everyone thinks the man is the one with the power, but the man answers to a woman.

We could rule the world once we realized that.

Making use of the gigantic shower, you’re sure your old bedroom would fit in here alone. When you turned off the shower head, and wrapped a towel around yourself stopping in your tracks when your eyes land on the fresh clothes set out. You can only hope it was a maid or something whoever it was got a very clear view of you.

Rubbing the soft fabric between your fingers, obviously it was one of Massimos dress shirts that probably cost more than your rent. Choosing that over your dress that was still dripping wet from your swim earlier you slide on the shirt. You’ll admit the man has good taste, it felt like silk flowing against your skin as you button it up, the bright white looking amazing with your new tan. You don’t even try to look for your phone, you know it’s not here. And you’d say you have been through enough today that you’ve earned a few hours sleep.

Waking up, forgetting where you were for a moment until you rolled over and saw the large shirtless italian shaped figure blocking the sunlight streaming through the window. slowly sitting up, holding the blankets closer to your body to act as a barrier betwen you both, not that a blanket would stop him.

''Would it kill you to put a shirt on?"

Your head is saying 'stop sassing him and play along' but your personality is saying 'make him so crazy he lets you go' so you'll do both. sass him when possible, go along when he gets to close to the edge. Should work perfectly.

Raising a thick eyebrow that you're almost jealous of at your words, if he thought you were going to wish him good morning and jump into his arms. his muscular, tan, tattooed dream worthy, No, stop thinking like that. No. but he was wrong if that's how he planned this going.

"Would it kill you to be polite to me for once?"

"It might."

Huffing out what almost sounded like a laugh he stood, easily towering over you. his dark eyes focused only on you. its easy to see why he could be intimidating, if you didn't have the cocky attitude going on you're sure you would be one of those people.

"Get dressed we need to buy some things before we depart."

pretty mafia boy say what? Quickly standing in a poor atempt to match his height only coming up mid chest, not exactly what you were going for and judging by the amused look in his eyes he knew that fact to.

"I'm not going anywhere unless its back to the hotel."

"It wasn't a request. It was an order."

Litterly staring death in the face you think back to last night, when you acted out before he sent you back to the room, maybe this time will be the same. putting both hands on his chest and pushing as strongly as you could. only moving him back an inch, he grabs your wrist tightly, throwing you onto the bed following after you, wrestling your hand free landing a solid punch to his cheek. freezing as his head snaps to the side with the force of the hit. slowly meeting your eyes once again his lip pulled up in a snarl, showing his disaproval at the action. roughly pinning your hands to the bed, hovering above you.

"Just as i think you wont do anything stupid you prove me wrong."

"I'll prove you wrong again if you think i'm going anywhere with you!"

Staring hard he abruptly pushes off you and a few feet away, taking a deep breath as to calm himself.

"We are leaving in an hour, ready or not you're coming"

When he left is when you noticed your luggage stacked against the wall. Looking through your clothes, if you didn’t go shopping you would be very underdressed next to him who dresses to the nines all the time. So you throw on the most appealing outfit glad that you decided to bring something fancy if for no other reason just for a photoshoot at the resort.

Walking the steet of Italy again felt amazing, if only you weren’t shadowed by a mafia boss and two huge bodyguards. But not having to pay for the ridiculously priced clothes or carry your bags was nice. Part of you was happy he wasn’t watching you, just tapping away on his phone, but on the other hand, you looked amazing and was hoping to flaunt what he was so desperate to have.

But of course the second you went to the lingerie store the phone was in his pocket. You knew it was him the second the changing room door opened.

“Oh that’s why there’s a lock.”

You sarcastically drawl, which he ignored choosing to scan your body clad in red.

“Get out!”

“Or what?”

Oh, so he’s playing cocky now. Licking his lips with his arms crossed looking way to relaxed while you were almost naked.

Strutting up to him, playing with his shirt collar.

“Or I’ll walk out like this where your back up out there can see.”

You might not have seen Massimo looking at you before, but you definitely saw the guards eyes on you a few times. And that was the right thing to say to piss him off because the next thing you know you’re backed against a mirror with an angry mobster holding your throat.

“This body is mine, I’m the only one to see it!”

Snarling in your face before leaving without letting you bark back at him. Oh if he though you were going to leave it at that then he wasn’t as smart as you thought.

Storming after him, throwing your clothes at his chest, he definitely wasn’t expecting that given his wide eyes which give you enough of a distraction that you can make it outside still wearing the red lingerie. Gaining mixed reactions, girls are shocked while men drool.

A large hand around your arm pulls you to a stop. Ruining your runway strut along the brick road like you were a Victoria secret model.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s my body I choose who sees it.”

Flashing an innocent smile while stepping back waving at your body. Successfully getting the twitch in his eye to go off, wrapping a large blazer around you pulling you behind him mumbling while you struggle to keep up in your heels. Bumping into his back when he suddenly stops.

“This will go a lot easier if you stop fighting me every chance you get.”

“I didn’t want this! Why would I make it easy for you?”

Sighing deep from his chest looking genuinely in pain and tired so you’ll give him a break and a chance.

“I want something normal to eat tonight make it French, we’ll start there.”

Hope you guys like this and the series! Me requested are still open.

Series tag list: @calirindo

[shakingparadigm]

To be fair, all of their tests are fitting and somewhat unsurprising for their characters. Mizi is an energetic person, so she practices dancing. Sua is one of the best singers in their year, so her test involves vocals. Ivan's model image being the key to his success, Till's creative prodigy talent, and even Luka's association with heartbeats all check out.

The one that really piqued my interest was Hyuna's. A superiority test.

The banner provides a wider shot of Hyuna's image, which reveals Hyunwoo hugging her pod. It's clear he wasn't tested for "superiority" like she was, or maybe it just wasn't his turn yet.

An important aspect of Hyuna's character is that she was considered only second to Luka ( the "greatest performer" ) in terms of talent. While it's been stated numerous times that Hyuna was especially gifted, information about Hyunwoo's skill or even ranking within the garden is basically nonexistent. Coupled with the fact that Phan's information regards Hyuna and only Hyuna, not Hyunwoo together with her, it definitely feels like he fell behind her in terms of talent ( and therefore worth ).

I've always has certain feelings about Hyuna and Hyunwoo entering Anakt together under ( I assume ) one guardian. When Hyunwoo dies, it's almost like it wouldn't matter as much because "at least there's still the other one". And when the "other one" in question is considered to be the superior sibling... well, that makes it even more unfortunate. Just an insignificant thing that his owner can finally be rid of, buried in a garden Phan couldn't care less about.

Every single aspect so meticulously planned... It's incredible and horrific how nothing was left unmonitored. Complete and utter lack of control.