#vogue au

[nell0-0]

All right! Vogue is a type of guy, that's for sure. Would love to see/hear some more lore, glad that you are happy to talk about him! (and the immortality ask got me 👀)

I took so long to answer this ask, I have no excuse. Better late than never?

The reason Vogue says he doesn't feel like a whole person has a lot to do with how they came to be (they weren't a stable fusion at first) and Ingo's amnesia.

In the fusion, Ingo softens Volo's hard edges and Volo gives Ingo a stronger drive. They're still a mess most of the time, and their negatives build up as well (not just the positives) but they make it work. There's a reason why their fusion has worked for that long, after all.

Ingo and Volo are two very different people, but with time and change, they can strive to be better and something more... healthy.

Cynthia is aware her uncle Vogue is a fusion even if she doesn't understand what that means at first. Then again, she has never seen them as any other than Vogue, so she doesn't dwell on who are part of her weird uncle. They're just like that.

The version of Vogue that Cynthia knows has already gone through a lot, almost always stable.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗩𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗬 𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗦

　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x famous!reader

SUMMARY: Where the world-famous actress and model, Y/N, is invited by Vogue to record a video of her Beauty Secrets, but during the recording, Chris, her boyfriend, decides to make a brief appearance.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The golden sun peeked through the silk curtains, illuminating Y/N's spacious marble bathroom. She was at home in her luxurious suite, ready to share her beauty secrets with the world.

A few days ago, Y/N was busy organizing her appointments when an email with the iconic Vogue logo caught her attention. With a mix of curiosity and anticipation, she opened the message to discover that Vogue was interested in featuring her in its exclusive beauty video series, Vogue Beauty Secrets.

The news filled her with excitement and pride. As one of the most in-demand models of the moment, walking on runways for renowned brands like Gucci and being a regular in the pages of Vogue itself, Y/N was already a familiar presence in the fashion industry. However, the invitation to share her beauty secrets with the Vogue audience represented an exciting opportunity to connect on an even deeper level with her fans and followers.

As Y/N prepared to start recording the video, she could hear the distant sound of laughter and the distinctive hum of video games coming from the next room. Her boyfriend, Chris, was immersed in one of his thousands of games, completely absorbed by the virtual world.

With a captivating smile, the girl waves to the camera with her left hand, starting the recording. Her long hair falls like a silken waterfall as she approaches the dressing table adorned with high-quality beauty products.

"Hi, guys! It's Y/N here." She greets enthusiastically, her smile stretching across her face as her right hand lifts slightly, showing the white mug full of fresh brewed coffee. "And I'm back on my favorite channel. Today is a very special day because I'm sharing my beauty secrets with you!"

With grace and elegance, Y/N begins her skincare routine, explaining each step in meticulous detail. She gently applies a gentle cleanser, massaging it into her skin in circular motions while commenting on the latest happenings in the fashion world.

"You know, being on the cover of Vogue for the fifth time is an honor." She shares casually. "But it's also a reminder of how much hard work and dedication it takes to get there. I remember when I was just a 10-year-old kid walking down the hallway at home in my mom's heels."

While applying a refreshing toner, Y/N describes how she likes to take care of her skin to keep it radiant and flawless, even under the relentless camera spotlight.

"It's all about consistency and finding what works for you." The girl advises gently, looking directly into the camera with confidence. "And never underestimate the power of drinking lots of water and getting enough sleep!"

With one fluid movement, Y/N moves on to the next step: makeup. She carefully selects her favorite products, explaining the reasoning behind each choice as she applies them with masterful skill.

"My makeup philosophy is simple: enhance natural beauty." She explains, delicately tracing her eyebrows with a pencil in the tone of her natural hair. "It’s all about enhancing, not transforming."

Y/N lowered her head slightly, her right hand hovering over her laid out products before her index finger and thumb fished out her Dior blush.

"This one is Dior Backstage Rosy Glow Blush. It's super beautiful and gives you, like, baby pink glow. I'm literally obsessed!" The girl opens the small packaging, momentarily showing the pink powder to the lens before applying it delicately to the apples of her cheeks with a white brush. "I used to use really heavy blush when I was in school." Y/N confesses, laughing. "My face looked like a paint palette! Chris said it also looked like I had sunbathed for hours without sunscreen. But over time, I learned the art of subtlety."

As she continued to expertly apply her makeup, focusing on the smooth strokes and precise touches, a noise at the bathroom door broke her focus. With a surprised sigh, she saw through the mirror her boyfriend entered the spacious room with a frustrated expression on his face.

"Fucking hell!" He grumbled under his breath, muttering curses as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh softly at the sight of him, knowing he was dealing with another loss in his game against Nick and Matt.

"Having some trouble, babe?" She asked playfully, turning her face slightly towards him and giving him an amused look as she continued to apply her makeup.

Chris let out a heavy sigh and walked with quick steps toward her, looking over Y/N's shoulder to see what she was doing. His eyes widened in surprise as he noticed the strategically placed recording camera before turning towards his girl with raised eyebrows.

"Wow, wait!" The boy exclaimed, excitement clear in his voice. "Are you recording a video?"

Y/N nodded, smiling as she explained about Vogue's invitation and the opportunity to share her beauty secrets with the world, her hands gently closing the packaging of the blush before putting it away in its original place.

Chris watched with admiration her animated features as she talked and her hands moving her favorite products - which he had already memorized, him himself buying many of them for her everytime he passed by Sephora -, his eyes shining with pride.

"That's so cool, baby!" He exclaimed, smiling big and wrapping an arm around her waist, moving so that he was more centered inside the lens's frame and clinging to his girl. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"If your intention is to make me blush, it will be impossible under those layers of blush." Y/N intervened, raising her right hand with her palm facing him, rolling her eyes playfully in an attempt to feign annoyance, but the minimal smile on her face said otherwise. "Do you want to stay here? With me."

"Can I?" Chris widened his eyes comically, turning abruptly to her, feeling elated.

"Of course you can, honey!" Y/N couldn't help but laugh at Chris's excitement, nodding with a smile. "Welcome to my world of beauty." She opened her arms in an exaggerated gesture of welcome, receiving a nasal laugh in response.

As she resumed her makeup, explaining the next steps in detail, Chris watched with interest, asking questions and showing genuine interest in the entire process, a childish and euphoric aura surrounding his body.

As Y/N picked up her favorite mascara and began to explain in detail about the brand and its incredible formula that provided volume and length without clumping, Chris's eyes traveled between the product - which he already knew very well - and her concentrated expression. He could see the passion in his girlfriend's eyes as she talked about her beauty rites, and this only increased his admiration for her, an involuntary smile resting on his face.

Then, when Y/N was about to apply the mascara, the boy gently stepped forward, extending his hands, stopping her movements. The girl raised her eyes to him, a confused expression hovering over them before noticing what he wanted to do after watching Chris take the product from her hands.

That wasn't unusual between them; Over the three years of their relationship, Chris had become skilled at some specific makeup steps, helping his girlfriend on several occasions.

"Can I?" He asked softly, holding the mascara in her eyes level.

Y/N smiled, feeling grateful for her boyfriend's affectionate gesture, throwing a wink in the direction of the camera before turning her body slightly to the side, so that her face was still visible to the lens and that Chris could see her completely.

"Please, go ahead, baby." She finally replied, her eyes shining with tenderness as she watched Chris move closer, wanting to put himself in an easy position for both of them, without running the risk of smudging his work.

With skill and care, Chris began to apply the mascara to Y/N's long, naturally curled lashes, following the precise movements he had observed she doing so many times. He furrowed his eyebrows in a serious expression, determined to do an impeccable job, his tongue lolling out of his lips in concentration.

"Chris and I have an interesting ritual. For as long as I can remember, I've always been very careful about the way I look, and that didn't change after I started dating Chris, and much less when we started actively going to each other's houses." Y/N explained softly, without moving her lips too much with the intention of not making him smudge his work. "And Chris, being the adorably clingy boyfriend that he is, would spend hours in the bathroom with me while I was trying out new makeup or getting ready to go out. He would just sit on the closed toilet seat and watch me for minutes on end."

"How could I not look at a work of art as perfect as you?" The boy interrupted her, shooting off his sentence before an involuntary smirk appeared on his lips, feeling the skin of her right cheek burn against his own hand.

"And then, one day, he asked to do my makeup, but before I explained the function of each product." Y/N quickly resumed her train of thought, ignoring her boyfriend's flirting. "And over time, every time we go out together, he asks to help me, or just to watch me doing my skin routine."

"Sharing these intimate moments with you is the best part of my daily routine." The brunette said softly, his tone low with the intention of only his girlfriend hearing, his eyes meeting hers tenderly.

Y/N quickly pressed her lips into a thin line, feeling her neck and cheeks burn even more in shyness, her right hand moving up his body, caressing his covered hip lightly with her fingers in ghost touches.

When he was finished, Chris stood back with a triumphant smile, admiring his work with pride. Y/N turned around, facing the camera and the mirror completely, observing her own reflection for a few seconds, impressed with the result. Her lashes were perfectly defined and voluminous, exactly how she liked them.

"Wow, you're getting better at this!" Y/N exclaimed, approaching her face to the camera slightly, blinking repeatedly, wanting the lens to capture her boyfriend's perfect work. "Thank you, my love."

Chris smiled excitedly, happy to have made Y/N feel even more pretty, his hands returning to their previous place on her waist.

"Vogue, please, get Chris to do the next episode of Vogue Beauty Secrets."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

extra - comments:

"petition for Chris and Y/N to start posting makeup videos together ✏️📄"

"I never thought I would see Chris knowing about makeup, much less doing someone's makeup 😭"

"this is the cutest thing I've ever seen in my entire life 😔✋🏻"

"I need a boyfriend like Chris, who does my makeup every day 🙏🏻"

"Chris is the true meaning of acts of service 🥺"

"couple goals fr 🤞🏻"

"Chris is to blame for my standard being so high 😫"

"get someone that looks at you like Chris looks at Y/N while she puts on makeup 🤭"

“okay, but can we talk about Y/N’s flawless skin? I'm jealous 😫”

"Y/N's makeup >>>>>"

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[ssweetener]

11.03.24 - Ariana Grande in Vivienne Westwood for the "Wicked" Premiere in Sydney, Australia “My dress for the Australian premiere is by Vivienne Westwood. We wanted to start this press tour off with a tribute to the beautiful Billie Burke’s Glinda from The Wizard of Oz. Our film, Wicked is a very thoughtful and detailed celebration of the land of Oz and the many iterations of these characters that have come before ours, so we thought it would be a beautiful place to start.” “When I was younger, I used to get very nervous for [premieres]—scared of everything, everyone, of being seen… but nowadays I just feel a deep sense of gratitude, and I feel present and so excited. I’m so humbled to be an artist and to be able to work with so many people I love and who inspire me. These moments just feel like a celebration and an overflow of love. Deep, irrevocable gratitude is what calms and grounds me.”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 2 - Psyche Skills

Part 1 - Part 3

[allykatsart]

Some Angelic Vouge doodles for the holidays 💜

[nhoirr]

MAN. I HEADCANNON PM! DAZAI DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO LOVE. like, he knows love. The structure of what it is, a simple stature but thats only the view from the outside. when he finds himself trapped inside the complex labyrinth love was — he was at lost for where to go. no routes in his mind could pave a path, there was no logic working in this maze. as if it were different from everything he'd ever known.

I headcannon Dazai does not know love, but merely the theory it is. He knows how to seduce yet he does not know what it is. he just knows it's something that helps him to manipulate, to take control of the situation.. but within those strings, he finds himself no longer the puppeteer — but he, was the puppet he was playing all along. he never knew the dangers of what love could do, until his heart became what was being played as a price to be payed. it started off as a thrill, then an annoyance, and then a constant looming — the feeling of his heart tightening in his chest. truthfully, he never knew anything.

And that made him fear it.

but you knew everything, how to love. and what's beautiful, is the fact that he melts within your embrace. he learns what is right, he learns love — what it means to love and be loved. he finds out with you that in all dark corners, love is still beautiful. That within this dark maze, you were the one who pulled him out and into the light, you who spoke of love so beautifully. there came an enlightenment to him, that you were the one — the one he's been waiting for all his life, his answer.

but PM! Dazai Osamu was but a man — fearing the unknown, for the feeling of lost once you slip away from his fingers. Dazai Osamu fears the day you would ever be snatched away from him, if he'd ever awake with you beside him in the morning, and the next, and he regrets; he regrets knowing love, how beautiful it is. because you've shown him why life is worth living, and if that — you, were to ever be taken away..

I woke up with an insane dazai brain riot help

anyways I'll come back to this I swear hold on—

© nhoirr — don't copy, plagiarize or translate!

[carnivart-core]

… And you see two figures standing on a long, elevated platform. They are beautiful Octarians - one female, one male, and they are dressed in these tight-fitting, high-fashion garments of indigo. He’s wearing a golden half-cape, and she’s wearing these huge, insane, golden shoulder pads. And you realize the long platform they’re standing on is a runway. And the female Octarian sticks a slender, gloved arm into the air and snaps.

And all of a sudden the ceiling and walls and floors of this room transform into a thousand multicolored neon panels that shift and flash in time with the loud pulsating music that floods the chamber. And every time like, every time that the beat hits on this song, the spotlights flash in time, and every time they do they catch this duo as they just fuckin’ vogue and pose their way down the runway, just like, working it. Just like hitting the beat so fucking hard and just voguing their brains out. And they reach the end of the runway, which is just this large, circular platform, and as they do the rest of this runway descends down into the ground to be about floor-level. And this circle platform spins around a few times as they continue to pose to the music. And finally, they address you

[koijikido]

V O G U E 📸 F I N A L 💙🖤

@ilbers 💙

[peppymintdreams]

Threads Rewoven

Zaros Kymen Atha’lin x Earis (Modern AU)

Request via @vionnette the children called and mother answered I had to sketch this out had to get back in my fashion phase to make some things make sense (I apologize if it didn’t meet your expectations)

───※ ·❆· ※───

The echo of his footsteps bounced off the polished marble floors as Zaros Kymen Atha’lin strode into the dimly lit corridors of the Serulla Vogue building. Once a bastion of creative brilliance and bold artistry, the iconic space was now a shadow of its former self, slated for demolition after this final, star-studded fashion show.

Zaros had promised himself he’d never return to this world. Not after that night—the royal ballroom show.

He clenched his jaw at the memory. That had been his finest work, a collection so daring, so avant-garde that it had left audiences breathless. But none of it mattered. The competition had been rigged. Every designer knew it, every critic whispered it: Earis Ilves had been given more time, more resources, more attention. When the scores came in and Earis was crowned Serulla’s Fashion Heir, Zaros had walked away, humiliated and furious.

He retired that night. Left the spotlight. Stopped creating.

But now, with the runway itself on the brink of destruction, he had returned—not as a designer, not as a makeup artist, but as a model.

For weeks, his inbox had been flooded with desperate pleas from designers, each clamoring for his name to bolster their collections. Zaros had skimmed the emails with disinterest, finally picking a request at random. To him, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t here to win.

He was here to advocate.

For the workers. For the designers. For the creative souls who had built this industry. The demolition of the Serulla Vogue building wasn’t just the end of a structure—it was the erasure of a legacy.

The Serulla Vogue building wasn’t just any runway. It had been the cradle of countless careers, the backdrop of every pivotal moment in fashion for decades. Zaros could still remember the first time he’d walked its gilded halls, fresh out of university and filled with ambition. Back then, it had felt like stepping into a dream—every corner was alive with the hum of sewing machines, the click of heels on polished floors, the hushed tones of designers whispering about upcoming collections.

It was here that Zaros had first met Earis Ilves.

The memory of that first encounter was etched into his mind. Earis had walked into a pre-show critique with the kind of effortless confidence that turned heads, their piercing gaze sweeping over Zaros’s collection before offering a curt, “It’s bold. But predictable.”

At the time, he had been too stunned to reply, but that single comment had lit a fire in him. Earis became his benchmark, his rival, and—though he’d never admit it—his equal. For years, they had competed on the same stages, their names often spoken in the same breath as the future of Serulla’s fashion world.

But no rivalry burned hotter than the one that culminated in the Royal Ballroom Show.

Zaros clenched his fists at the memory. The weeks leading up to the event had been a whirlwind of sleepless nights and frantic creation. He’d poured his soul into that collection—pieces that defied convention, blending traditional Serullan designs with sharp, modern silhouettes. He’d known it was his best work.

And yet, when the scores were tallied, it was Earis who stood victorious.

As he entered the makeup room, whispers erupted like a ripple in still water. Stylists clutched their pearls, makeup artists froze mid-stroke, and models exchanged wide-eyed looks.

“Is that…?”

“He’s back.”

“It’s really him.”

Zaros ignored the murmurs, his expression sharp and unreadable. He wasn’t here for their adoration or gossip. He was here to make a statement.

“The designer should be here soon,” his manager said softly, breaking through the tension.

“Thank you,” Zaros replied, his tone clipped. His manager nodded and left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Zaros sat on the plush makeup chair, staring at his reflection. His sharp cheekbones, piercing emerald eyes, and perfectly styled hair mirrored the man he used to be, yet something in his gaze felt heavier.

He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the last time he’d been here. The photo of Earis on the magazine cover haunted him still:

EARIS TAKES THE CROWN AS SERULLA’S FASHION HEIR

The image still haunted him—Earis draped in their winning design, a shimmering gold-and-crimson ensemble that looked like it belonged to royalty itself. At the time, he’d told himself it was rigged. The whispers confirmed it: Earis had been given more resources, more time, and more leeway from the judges. It hadn’t been a fair fight.

But deep down, part of him had wondered if Earis had simply been better.

He remembers it vividly the last thing earis said to him before they had parted, it was after earis had won tears of joy streamed their face as they waved to the crowd backstage they told him “you are a disgusting leech who won my trust, only to break me after. Knowing you is my greatest regret, I never want to see your face again”. That was eight years ago.

The thought had eaten at him, gnawing away at his confidence until he could no longer bear to set foot in the fashion world. He’d walked away, leaving behind the world they had both shaped. And just like that, Earis disappeared too.

In the years that followed, Zaros had heard little of them. Rumors swirled—some claimed Earis had retired to the countryside, others that they had taken their talent abroad. No one knew for certain.

What had happened to them after that night? Where had they gone? Rumors swirled, of course. Some said Earis had disappeared entirely, retreating into the shadows of their victory. Others speculated they had gone abroad to build an empire. But no one truly knew.

Not even Zaros.

What happened to you, Earis?

A soft knock on the door snapped him out of his reverie.

“Come in,” he said, his voice steady.

The door opened, and Zaros’s breath caught in his throat. Standing there, holding a tape measure and a fabric swatch book, was Earis Ilves.

Time seemed to freeze as their eyes met. For a moment, neither spoke. Zaros, for once, was at a loss for words.

“You,” he finally managed, his voice low and laced with disbelief.

Earis’s expression mirrored his shock, though they quickly composed themselves. “Zaros.”

“What…?” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely. “What are you doing here, my earis?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Leech” Earis replied, their voice cool but tinged with something softer—hesitation?

Zaros’s lips twitched at the sound of that old nickname. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet hearing it again stirred something in him—annoyance, nostalgia, maybe even a touch of longing. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs as if to mask his unease.

“I’m here to protest the destruction of this building,” Zaros said, his voice regaining its sharp edge. “But I suppose I should have expected to find you lurking in its final moments. Are you here to celebrate your victory, my Earis?”

Earis closed the door behind them with an audible click, their movements measured and deliberate. They didn’t answer immediately, taking a moment to set their tools on the vanity table. Zaros watched them carefully, searching for cracks in their composure.

“Believe it or not, I’m here to work,” Earis replied, finally meeting his gaze. “I didn’t think I’d see you again, let alone like this.” They gestured to him, their tone as unreadable as their expression. “Modeling, of all things? How... unexpected.”

Zaros chuckled dryly, though the sound was devoid of humor. “Why bother designing when the game is rigged? It’s easier to just wear the clothes and leave the politics to someone else.”

A flicker of something crossed Earis’s face—guilt, perhaps, or regret. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “You’ve changed,” they said softly, pulling a tape measure from their pocket. “But then, I suppose we both have.”

Zaros bristled at the implication. “And yet, here you are. Still clinging to this world.”

Earis stepped closer, the scent of their perfume reaching him—a familiar, intoxicating blend of sandalwood and citrus. It stirred memories he’d long tried to bury. “I’m here because this is my world,” they said, their voice firm. “I wasn’t going to let it crumble without a fight.”

Zaros narrowed his eyes. “So, you’re here to save the building too? How noble of you, my Earis. Tell me, is this another chance for you to steal the spotlight?”

Earis stopped in their tracks, the tape measure dangling loosely in their hand. Their eyes met his, and for the first time, Zaros saw a crack in their armor. “Do you really think that’s all I care about? After everything?”

The vulnerability in their voice caught him off guard. Zaros hesitated, unsure how to respond. This wasn’t the Earis he remembered—the fierce competitor who had always been three steps ahead of him. This Earis seemed... tired. Worn.

“I don’t know what you care about anymore,” Zaros admitted, his tone quieter now. “I stopped trying to figure you out years ago.”

Earis looked down, fiddling with the edge of the tape measure. “I didn’t ask for what happened that night,” they said, their voice barely above a whisper. “The resources, the attention... none of that was my doing. But you wouldn’t listen. You just... left.”

Zaros scoffed, his eyes narrowing as the bitter memories surged back. "You didn’t ask for it?" he echoed, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You didn’t stop it either. You didn’t say a word when they handed you the crown on a silver platter, my Earis. You stood there and soaked it all in—like it was your birthright."

You straightened, meeting his glare with one of your own. "What was I supposed to do, Zaros? Refuse? Hand it over to you out of pity? That’s not how this world works, and you know it."

"Pity?" Zaros laughed, but the sound was hollow. "You think I wanted pity? I wanted fairness! I wanted the recognition I earned, not to stand there like an idiot while you basked in the glow of a rigged victory."

Your jaw tightened, and for a moment, he could see the frustration simmering beneath your composed exterior. "It wasn’t rigged," you shot back, your voice sharper now. "Yes, I had more resources. More attention. But I didn’t control that, Zaros! I worked just as hard as you—harder, maybe. You think it was easy for me, carrying the weight of everyone’s expectations? Always being told I had to be perfect?"

"Spare me the sob story," Zaros snapped, rising from his chair. "You had everything handed to you. Connections, sponsors, the judges eating out of your hand. Don’t stand there and tell me it was the same for you."

You stepped closer, your eyes blazing with a fire that sent a shiver down his spine. "You think I didn’t see how much it hurt you that night? You think I didn’t care? I did, Zaros. But I wasn’t about to throw away my chance just to make you feel better. I wanted to win. I had to win."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at you. Your honesty was brutal, unyielding, and it struck a chord he wasn’t ready to confront.

"And you did," Zaros said bitterly, his voice quieter now. "You won. You got everything you ever wanted. So why do you look just as miserable as I feel?"

Your lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. For a moment, the tension between you hung thick in the air, charged with years of unresolved anger and something else neither of you wanted to name. Zaros’s gaze softened despite himself, and he hated that even now, you could still make his heart ache in ways he didn’t understand.

"Don’t flatter yourself," you said finally, your voice trembling just enough for him to notice. "I’m not miserable. I’m... I’m here to work. That’s it."

"Right," Zaros muttered, stepping back as if putting distance between you would shield him from the emotions threatening to surface. "And I’m just a model. That’s it."

The words felt like a lie, but he didn’t dare linger on them. He couldn’t afford to. Still, as he turned his attention back to the mirror, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were just as lost in the past as he was. Neither of you would admit it, but the distance you’d created hadn’t erased the memories. It had only made them sharper, more painful.

He glanced at you through the reflection, catching the way your shoulders tensed, your fingers clutching the tape measure a little too tightly. You opened your mouth as if to say something, but closed it again, the words slipping away before they could take form.

Zaros turned to face you fully, his expression unreadable. "We’re not the same people we were back then," he said quietly, the anger in his voice giving way to something softer. "But if you think for a second that I don’t miss the way things used to be... then you’re as blind as I was."

Your eyes widened, the facade you’d carefully built cracking for just a moment. But then, just as quickly, you straightened your spine, masking whatever vulnerability had slipped through. "The past is the past," you said, your tone cold and final. "It’s better that way."

Zaros didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The weight of your words settled heavily in his chest, leaving him with a bitter taste in his mouth. As you turned back to your tools, the silence between you was deafening.

And yet, in that silence, he couldn’t help but wonder if you were lying—to him, or to yourself.

The room felt suffocating, the tension between you and Zaros heavy with unspoken truths and lingering emotions. Zaros turned his back to you, his arms crossed as he stared out the dusty window. The faint glow of the city lights filtered through, painting shadows across his sharp features. He looked tired, worn—so different from the Zaros you remembered, who always carried himself with unshakable confidence, even in defeat.

And maybe that was why, despite everything, you found yourself speaking. "Do you ever think about how it could have been? If things had gone differently?"

Zaros’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn to face you. "Every damn day," he admitted after a moment, his voice low and tinged with vulnerability. "But thinking about it doesn’t change anything, does it? We made our choices, Earis."

You hesitated, your fingers gripping the edge of the vanity table. "Maybe we did, but that doesn’t mean it’s too late to make different ones."

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to decipher your intentions. "What are you saying?" he asked, his tone cautious, almost disbelieving.

"I’m saying..." You took a deep breath, the words sticking in your throat. "I’m saying I don’t want to keep pretending like you don’t matter to me. Because you do, Zaros. You always have."

Zaros stared at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought you’d made a mistake—that he’d laugh it off or lash out, like he always did when things got too close to the heart. But then, to your surprise, he closed the distance between you in a few quick strides.

"You think I don’t know that?" he said, his voice trembling slightly. "You think I haven’t spent years trying to forget you, only to fail every single time?"

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, and for a moment, the space between you felt charged with something electric, something neither of you could deny anymore. His gaze softened, and for the first time in years, the walls he’d built around himself seemed to crumble just a little.

"But you hurt me, my Earis," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You took everything I wanted, everything I worked for, and you didn’t even look back. How am I supposed to forget that?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of his pain settling heavily on your chest. "I don’t want you to forget," you said softly. "I want to make it right. Or at least... try."

Zaros let out a shaky breath, his hand running through his hair as he looked away. "And what if trying isn’t enough? What if we’re too far gone for that?"

"Then we figure it out," you said, stepping closer. "Together. No more games, no more walls. Just... us."

He looked back at you, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear. "You make it sound so easy."

"It’s not," you admitted. "But I think it’s worth it. Don’t you?"

Zaros didn’t answer right away, his gaze locked on yours. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours in a tentative, almost hesitant gesture. The contact sent a spark through you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to hope.

"Maybe it is," he said quietly, his lips twitching into a small, almost reluctant smile. "But don’t think for a second I’m letting you off the hook, Earis. You owe me answers. And an apology."

You couldn’t help but smile back, your fingers tightening around his. "Then I guess we have a lot to talk about."

"Yeah," he said, his voice softening. "We do."

The tension in the room had shifted into something warmer, softer. You crouched underneath Zaros as he sat on a worn velvet chaise, as you measured his calves, an air of tentative understanding forming between you. For the first time in years, you allowed yourselves to talk—not as rivals or adversaries, but as two people trying to bridge a gap that once felt insurmountable.

"So," Zaros began, leaning back casually, "what’s it like being the golden child of the industry? Still stealing the spotlight wherever you go?"

You rolled your eyes, but there was no venom in the gesture. "I wouldn’t say that. It’s... a lot of work, actually. More than I ever imagined back when we were just two kids at the Academy. I’ve spent the last eight years chasing deadlines and sacrificing sleep. But I love it, even when it’s exhausting."

His brow arched as a hint of a smile played at his lips. "Earis Ilves admitting to exhaustion? I thought you were invincible."

"Hardly," you replied, shaking your head. "What about you? Modeling, huh? How’d that happen?"

Zaros let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. "It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. After I left... everything, I needed something to keep me afloat. A friend of mine suggested it, and, well, apparently brooding pays well." He flashed a grin, his charm as infuriatingly effective as ever.

You chuckled despite yourself. "I’ll admit, you wear it well. But you always had that confidence—like you belonged wherever you stood."

"Confidence?" Zaros echoed, smirking. "I thought you’d call it arrogance."

You tilted your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. "That too."

The two of you laughed, the sound unfamiliar yet comforting. For a while, the conversation flowed naturally. Zaros told you about his travels, the odd jobs he’d taken, and the people he’d met along the way. You shared stories of grueling fittings, surreal moments at fashion shows, and the occasional disaster that turned into a lesson.

"I missed this," Zaros admitted suddenly, his tone softer now. "Talking to you. It’s... strange, but it feels like no time has passed, even though it’s been eight years."

You looked at him, caught off guard by his honesty. "I missed it too," you confessed, the words surprising even yourself. "Even when I told myself I didn’t."

Before either of you could say more, a sharp knock at the door interrupted the moment. The assistant poked their head in, clipboard in hand. "[Ms./Miss./Mrs/Mr] Ilves, your next fitting is in ten minutes. We need to start clearing the space."

You sighed, standing reluctantly. "Duty calls."

Zaros rose as well, his movements deliberate as he stepped closer. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pen and a scrap of paper. Scribbling something down, he handed it to you with a casual flourish.

"My number," he said, his voice laced with teasing confidence. "Give me a call sometime, My Earis. Maybe we can pick up where we left off." He punctuated the statement with a wink, his grin making your cheeks heat despite yourself.

You took the paper, shaking your head with a bemused smile. "Still full of yourself, I see."

"Always," Zaros quipped, stepping back toward the door. "Don’t keep me waiting too long, though. I might just have to track you down."

And with that, he was gone, leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and a strange fluttering in your chest. For the first time in a long while, you felt the faint spark of something you thought you’d lost: hope.

To be Continued…

@zsakuva

🍬

P.S. Hey… hey, you! 🫵🏾 Do you want more Sakuverse gay shit? Hit that follow button and send in a request! You’ll get notifications whenever I post new fics or incorrect quotes or head canons and maybe even a chance to have your OC featured in a story.

[dallina17]

Sera and Velvette have a little fight about Emily.

So for a little context here, Emily has fallen and has been living in hell for a while now. She lives most of the time with Charlie at the hotel, but she also stays with Velvette when she needs fresh air, so Emily and Velvette are quite close now. I am still fleshing out the timeline for this, but this scene goes a bit like this.

Sera wants Emily to give up on supporting Charlie and advocating for sinners' redemption so Emily can get Heaven's forgiveness. Sera goes to hell to Heaven's embassy (the place where Adam and Charlie met) to talk with her and try to convince her. Emily is too nervous to go alone, so she asks Velvette to come with her.

Velvette is very fond of Emily (thou she will never admit it) so she accepts to accompany her to the meeting. Surprisingly, she manages to not insult Sera instantly, but as she hears the seraphim and the fallen angel talking, she starts to get real MAD!

Sera: Emily... you have to understand. These sinners... they have had their chance. And they didn't take it. Even if they can get to heaven..

Emily: Which we have prove they can.

Sera: ...what makes you think that they would want to change for good? That they won't just pretend to change just to go to heaven? And that once in heaven they won't do again the same acts that got them here in the first place?

Emily: But what if they do change for real! Why are you so obsessed in taking away the opportunity for them?!

Sera: Because I can't risk getting our people hurt! And neither should do. Your duty, your purpose, is to protect them. Not defend these devilish…

Emily: But...

Sera: Please. I need you to understand.

Velvette: (starts to laugh)

Sera: ...is there something amusing about this miss...

Velvette: Velvette! My name is Velvette. And yes, I find very amusing your shitty hipocresy.

Sera: Excuse me?

Emily: Velvette... it's okay... you don't have to...

Velvette: Yes I have to! Come on Em, laugh with me! Don't you find funny how she can decide demons' fate, according to her views, without consequences, but when you, a seraphim just like her, wanted to do the same, got vanished? And now she wants you to stop thinking for yourself and do as she says!

Sera: I am older, and wiser, and I know...

Velvette: Yada yada yada, quit the old woman bitchy speech, will ya? You sound like my grandmother. She always thought she was above everyone else just because she had lived longer and that everyone should do as she said. When in reality, she was just afraid of change, and be proved that their shitty values were so fucking wrong. And so are you.

Sera: You speak as if you know about heaven. About what it means to protect your people. I will ignore your behavior this time, just because you are young and naive. You don't comprehend anything, and so does Emily.

Velvette: And what, according to you, Emily needs to comprehend?

Sera: That her duty is with heaven. Not with hell. And that there is no salvations for broken souls like you.

Velvette: Boooring! (looks at Emily and smiles. Then starts to sing) Don't you think she has it twisted? I believe she is the one needing a new attitude..,

And then we would have a reprise of Respectless with Velvette defending Emily.

[dr-skazka]

@maxdanarts they can absolutely be buddies and bond over their long legs :>

[nell0-0]

Vogue AU strikes again! Kid Cynthia has the weirdest uncle ever, but he’s cool

[lynn-vdg]

If you ever need poses to draw/doodle just look up vogue poses on Pinterest (or jojo poses if you feel like making jojo references.)

I’m feeling the joestar blood flowing inside me 😈

[albinaelif]

They becomed famous actress/actrist

[heravenuss]

~Come on, VOGUE!~

Character: Angelica Cavalleri | Aka Angel |

❕ALL THE CHARACTERS I DRAW ARE FROM MY FANCANON❕

[undercoverangell]

having thoughts about helen and menelaus on this night