May 26, 2021
ok why is the directing for this episode SOOOOO weird
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from T1
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Spain
seen from Canada
seen from Romania
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
ok why is the directing for this episode SOOOOO weird
𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 - 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬
⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬.ᐟ ˎˊ˗ they randomly got mailed a huge box. they get curious and decided to open it up, they didn’t expect to see a doll version of you.
what would they do with a doll version of you now?
⤷ 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.ᐟ ˎˊ˗ ego jinpachi ৴ michael kaiser ৴ sae itoshi ৴ isagi yoichi ৴ rin itoshi ৴ bachira meguru ৴ nagi seishiro ৴ shidou ryusei ৴ chigiri hyoma ৴ don lorenzo ৴ kunigami rensuke ৴ aoshi tokimitsu ৴ mikage reo ৴ bunny iglesias
𑣲 EGO JINPACHI
ego leaves the blue lock monitoring room briefly, hands in his pockets, already reorganizing strategies in his head as he walks to the bathroom. nothing changes while he’s gone.
when he returns, he stops.
there’s a large box placed neatly between the tables beneath the wall of camera monitors.
it shouldn’t be there. blue lock doesn’t allow surprises.
ego stares at it for a moment, expression unreadable, then approaches without hesitation.
“…interesting.”
he opens it.
inside sits a doll.
a precise, unsettling replica of you. same face. same hair. even the small details he remembers without trying.
the doll is positioned carefully, almost respectfully, eyes glassy and still.
ego doesn’t react the way most people would. no shock. no anger. just silence, heavy and calculating.
“a provocation,” he says quietly. “using psychology instead of skill.”
he lifts the doll briefly, examines it like data, then sets it on the table beneath the monitors. straightens it. places it where it won’t block his view.
then he turns back to work.
minutes later, his voice fills the room through the speakers. sharp. controlled. ruthless.
“that hesitation cost you the play. if you can’t act on instinct, you don’t belong here.”
on the screens, players flinch. none of them can see what’s happening behind him.
as he speaks, one hand rests on the edge of the table. his fingers move without thought, brushing against the doll’s sleeve.
a small fidget. absent. unintentional.
“ambition isn’t optional,” he continues coldly. “either devour the field, or be forgotten.”
his thumb presses lightly against the doll’s hand. releases. presses again. not gentle.
not rough. just… there. like grounding himself without realizing why.
between drills, when the room goes quiet except for the hum of machines, his gaze flicks sideways for half a second.
not enough to linger. not enough to admit anything.
“…irrelevant variables should be eliminated,” he mutters, eyes back on the screens.
yet the doll stays where it is.
and while ego will never say he misses you, his fingers keep moving back to the same place—again and again—every time the room grows too quiet.
𑣲 MICHAEL KAISER
michael comes home late from training, body sore but mood strangely good. the session went well. things clicked.
his head feels clearer than usual as he reaches his door—and stops.
there’s a small box sitting right in front of it.
his smile fades, replaced by caution. he bends down, picks it up, weighs it in his hand. light. familiar. “…seriously?” he mutters.
inside the apartment, he sets it on the table and opens it.
it’s a doll. a replica doll of you??
for a second, he just stares. then his shoulders ease instead of tensing. a quiet breath leaves him, something close to relief.
“guess you followed me home,” he says under his breath, almost amused.
he doesn’t get angry. doesn’t scoff this time. instead, he sits down, elbows on his knees, and looks at it properly. same face.
same little details he pretends not to memorize.
“training was brutal today,” he says casually, like you’re really there. “but i did good.”
he keeps the doll around that night. not front and center.
just nearby. on the table while he eats. on the couch when he stretches. it makes the apartment feel less empty, less quiet.
days later, he’s far away again.
another city. another hotel room. he sets his bag down, then carefully takes the doll out and places it on the desk by the window. the routine is automatic now.
“hate these rooms,” he mutters. “all the same.”
after the game, adrenaline gone, he sits on the bed and talks quietly. about the match. about the pressure.
about how exhausting it is to always prove himself. he knows it’s not really you. but it helps to talk like you’re listening.
when the night gets too quiet, his fingers brush the doll’s sleeve absent-mindedly. grounding. familiar.
“i’ll be back soon with you,” he says, voice low. “don’t get comfortable.”
before sleeping, he sets it on the nightstand. not hidden. not held. just there.
michael would never admit he misses you.
but every time soccer pulls him far away, the doll comes with him—like a promise he doesn’t say out loud, and a presence he refuses to leave behind.
𑣲 SAE ITOSHI
sae’s apartment is quiet except for the soft zip of his suitcase.
he’s packing carefully, folding clothes, checking gear, making sure everything he needs for the trip is inside. another city. another game. another hotel room waiting for him.
then his eyes catch the box on the counter. the small doll. you, in a mini version.
he picks it up, tilts it in his hands. the hair is soft, almost too soft, and the little outfit is perfectly stitched.
he adjusts it so it sits upright, straightens the tiny hands on its lap. it doesn’t look alive. it doesn’t move. but somehow, it feels like presence.
“…random,” he mutters.
he puts it carefully beside the suitcase, then keeps packing. socks, cleats, training shirts.
everything neatly folded. but every so often, his hand drifts toward the doll. he smooths the hair down slowly, straightens the little shoulders, taps its tiny hand absent-mindedly. it’s grounding. calming.
he pauses, holding the doll for a moment while zipping the suitcase.
“don’t get used to this,” he mutters quietly. thumb brushing the sleeve. “…just helps with the quiet.”
you step in briefly to say goodbye. it’s small. tiny. a tug at his sleeve, a smile he almost misses, a quick, soft
“be careful.” sae glances down at you, lips twitching faintly. “you too,” he says quietly. nothing loud, nothing dramatic.
after the goodbye, the suitcase closed, he picks up the doll and tucks it on top of the clothes in the bag.
not hidden. not front and center. just… there.
when he’s on the plane, in a strange city, in a hotel room that looks like every other, the doll comes out.
sits on the desk beside him, upright, tiny hands on its lap. he doesn’t talk to it. he doesn’t pretend it’s you.
sometimes, when the room is quiet and the stress of the game presses in, his fingers tap the tiny hands, smooth the hair down slowly, or adjust the posture just slightly.
he doesn’t look at it for comfort—it’s not that simple. it’s a small, steady presence. a reminder of the small, quiet goodbye he shared.
and even though he sometimes doesn’t say he misses you, even though he never dramatizes it, keeping the doll near makes the distance feel a little smaller.
it makes being away for the game… easier.
𑣲 ISAGI YOICHI
isagi walks up to his apartment mailbox after practice, bag heavy with his cleats and water bottle. he’s tired, mind still replaying drills from the day.
he opens the mailbox and notices a small box inside. frowning for a second, he carefully pulls it out. it’s light, and there’s no note.
curious, he opens it.
inside… is a doll. but a mini version of you. same hair, same face, even the little details he remembers so well.
he blinks, a soft, strange smile forming. “…huh,” he murmurs. “…that’s… unexpected.”
he picks it up, holding it awkwardly, as if unsure what to do.
it feels weird, kind of random, but also… nice. the apartment, the empty practice room, the long day—it all feels a little less lonely.
he sets the doll on his desk at home, upright, hands on its lap.
then, almost absent-mindedly, his fingers brush the hair. slow. careful. just like he would if it were really you sitting there.
“…you’d probably laugh at me if you saw this,” he whispers quietly.
sometimes, he can’t talk to you. practices run late. games take him far away.
but this… this is something he can hold on to. a little piece of you, here with him.
later, when he lies in bed, exhausted, he reaches over and smooths the doll’s hair again.
it doesn’t replace you, he knows that. but it’s comforting. a small, steady presence when he can’t call, can’t see, can’t talk to you.
sometimes, he even talks to it softly. “today was rough,” he says, “but i did my best.”
he smiles again, brushing the hair one last time before sleep. it’s silly. maybe a little strange.
but keeping the doll near… makes being away from you just a little easier.
𑣲 RIN ITOSHI
rin opens his mailbox after practice, expecting bills or junk. instead, there’s a small box.
he frowns. “…what the hell is this?”
he picks it up and opens it carefully. inside… a doll. a strange doll that's similar to you..
rin freezes, eyebrows drawn together. the hair, the face, the little details—it’s unnerving in a way he can’t explain.
he shakes his head, muttering, “this is… weird.”
he wants to throw it away. really. he should. it’s strange, unnecessary, maybe even a little creepy. but when he looks at it… he can’t. he can’t put it down.
he sets it on his desk at home, upright, hands resting neatly on its lap.
it doesn’t look alive, it’s just a doll—but somehow it makes the apartment feel less empty.
he hates that he’s attached. he’s not the type to need things like this. but being away from you for practice, for games, for training—it’s harder than he expected.
he finds himself smoothing the doll’s hair absent-mindedly. just small gestures, careful, like he’s brushing yours. tapping its little hand. straightening its clothes.
“…ridiculous,” he mutters under his breath.
sometimes, late at night, when he’s tired and the apartment is quiet, he talks to it softly. not like a conversation—just small things.
“missed practice today… wish you were here,” he whispers quietly.
he doesn’t call it comfort. he doesn’t call it missing you. but keeping the doll near makes the distance easier to bear.
and as much as he hates to admit it, that little, strange, tiny version of you… keeps him alive while he’s away, chasing soccer.
𑣲 BACHIRA MEGURU
bachira swings open his locker after practice, tossing his bag inside. something small catches his eye.
a box, tucked in the corner like it wasn’t supposed to be there. he frowns for a second. “…huh? what’s this?”
curious, he grabs it and takes it home. he can’t resist opening it.
inside… a doll. weirdly looks like you.. but how cute!
his eyes go wide. a grin spreads across his face. “…no way,” he whispers. “…that’s crazy.”
he picks it up, turning it in his hands. the hair is soft, the little outfit perfect, even the tiny hands are just like yours.
it makes him pause, heart tugging in a way he doesn’t expect.
he sets it on his desk, then can’t help himself—he smooths the hair down, taps its hand lightly, spins it a little in his fingers.
he’s playing, almost like he’s testing it, but there’s a strange softness in his smile.
“…you’d probably laugh at me,” he mutters, talking to the doll like you’re really there. “…i miss you.”
that night, when he climbs into bed, exhausted from training, he sets the doll beside him. he hugs it close, resting his cheek against it.
it’s not alive, he knows that. but it feels like a tiny piece of you is there, keeping him company.
even when he’s far away for games, in strange hotel rooms or empty apartments, he keeps the doll close.
sometimes he taps its hands, sometimes smooths the hair, sometimes just hugs it tight while he sleeps.
he does say he’ll miss you, but when he’s far away for his soccer dreams he can’t stop but to miss you.
𑣲 NAGI SEISHIRO
nagi opens his mailbox after practice and spots a small box sitting inside. he shrugs, barely looking.
he pulls it out and opens it casually.
inside… a doll. but looks like you.. is this like a voodoo type shit?
he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t frown. doesn’t think it’s weird. he just tilts his head, curious, and picks it up. “…huh,” he mutters. “okay.”
he sets it on his desk at home, upright, hands on its lap, and studies it for a moment.
the hair is soft, the clothes neat. he runs a finger lightly over its sleeve. it feels strange, but not bad.
earlier, he had to say goodbye to you before leaving for more soccer games. the small tug at his sleeve, your soft smile, the way you adjusted his bag—it had stuck with him all day.
he thinks about that goodbye as he holds the doll.
a quiet warmth spreads in his chest. he doesn’t know why, exactly, but he doesn’t want to let go of it.
it’s like having a piece of you nearby while he’s away, chasing games and training.
sometimes, late at night, he smooths the doll’s hair with slow, lazy movements.
sometimes he taps its tiny hands lightly, almost unconsciously. he doesn’t talk much to it—he’s not like that—but it keeps him calm, grounded, a little less bored, a little less alone.
even when he’s far away in hotel rooms or strange cities, the doll comes with him.
sits on the desk, the bed, wherever he can glance at it. not because it’s alive, not because it replaces you—but because it reminds him of that quiet, simple goodbye.
𑣲 RYUSEI SHIDOU
shidou throws open his apartment door after training, kicking his bag onto the floor. he’s still buzzing from practice, energy all over the place.
then he notices a small box sitting on the table. he frowns. “…what the hell now?”
he rips it open.
inside… a doll. that looks like you.
he blinks, eyebrows raised. “hm,” he mutters. “this is… weird.”
he picks it up and spins it in his hands, tapping its head lightly.
the hair is soft, the clothes neat, the little hands folded in its lap. it’s strange, but… somehow he doesn’t want to put it down.
earlier, he had to say goodbye to you before leaving for a string of games.
it was quick, messy, a little tense. your arms around him, your soft words—it stuck with him, even as he tried to shake it off.
now, holding the doll, he fidgets with it almost instinctively. spins it, taps its hands, smooths the hair down.
he mutters under his breath, half to himself: “…don’t get too comfortable, yeah?”
sometimes, when he’s far away in a hotel room, exhausted but restless, he hugs the doll tightly against his chest while lying on the bed.
it’s not soft enough, not alive—but it makes the quiet feel less sharp. it reminds him of you. your small goodbye. the way you always manage to find him even when he’s chaotic.
he doesn’t talk to it much. he doesn’t treat it like you. but he keeps it close. fidgets with it, plays with it, holds it when the world feels too structured and too far away from you.
𑣲 CHIGIRI HYOMA
chigiri opens his mailbox after practice, barely paying attention. something small catches his eye—a box tucked in the corner. he frowns but shrugs.
he pulls it out and opens it.
inside… a doll. a mini version of you.
he tilts his head, smirking a little. “…huh. not what i expected.”
he picks it up, turning it over in his hands.
the hair is soft, the clothes neat, the little hands folded in its lap. it’s weird. a little random. but for some reason… he doesn’t want to put it down.
earlier, he had to say goodbye to you before leaving for soccer games.
it was quick, casual, with a small smile, a tug at his sleeve, a soft “good luck.” he thought he’d get used to it, but he couldn’t shake that moment.
now, holding the doll, he fidgets with it unconsciously. taps its tiny hands, smooths the hair down with slow motions.
he doesn’t admit it to anyone, not even himself, but it reminds him of you.
sometimes, late at night, when he’s far away in a hotel room, he sets the doll on the desk or beside the bed. when the room is quiet, he brushes its hair, just like he remembers you brushing his hair after practice. it’s grounding. comforting.
he doesn’t talk to it. he doesn’t pretend it’s really you. but holding it close, brushing the hair, sometimes hugging it to his chest while he sleeps… it makes being away from you easier.
𑣲 DON LORENZO
lorenzo comes home after a long day of training. he’s sweaty, tired, thinking about his next match, but something on the floor catches his eye—a small box leaning against the door.
he kneels down, quirks an eyebrow. “…what’s this now?”
he opens it. inside… a doll. but strangely.. looks like you? how is that impossible?
he laughs softly, shaking his head.
“…okay, that’s a little weird,” he mutters. but the grin stays. it’s not unsettling. it’s not creepy. it’s kind of… cute, in a strange way.
he picks it up, turning it over in his hands. the hair is soft, the little outfit perfect, the tiny hands folded in its lap.
he taps its shoulders lightly, spins it a little. then, without thinking too much, his fingers drift to the hair.
he begins brushing it slowly, carefully, smoothing the strands down.
then, he gathers it into two small pigtails.
soft, neat, just like you might wear it. he steps back, tilts his head, and smirks. “…not bad,” he mutters quietly, almost proud of himself.
before, he had to say goodbye to you before leaving for a game. quick, teasing, with that small tug at his arm, your shy little smile. it stuck with him, even now.
when he leaves for the match, he tucks the doll in his bag.
in the hotel room, he sets it on the desk, upright, tiny hands folded.
sometimes he taps its shoulders, smooths the hair, or adjusts the pigtails. sometimes, before sleep, he hugs it briefly against his chest, the little hairstyle brushing his arm.
𑣲 RENSUKE KUNIGAMI
kunigami walks up to his apartment mailbox, thinking about the stack of letters you promised to send while he was away for soccer games.
the day has been long, exhausting, and he’s looking forward to a quiet moment reading your words.
he opens the mailbox, expecting envelopes, maybe a card or two.
but there’s a small box tucked in beside them. he frowns, curious. carefully, he pulls it out. he opens it slowly.
inside… a doll. that looks just like you.
he freezes. the hair, the little clothes, even the tiny hands folded neatly—it’s uncanny. for a moment, he just holds it, inspecting it from every angle.
“…huh,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “…this is… impressive.”
he sets it gently on the table in his apartment. then, instinctively, he begins brushing the doll’s hair slowly, straightening the tiny outfit.
careful, deliberate. the way he handles it is almost reverent, like he’s afraid to break it.
before that day, he had to say goodbye to you before leaving for his flight. it had been brief, polite, professional—your hand brushing his arm, a quiet smile, a soft “take care.” it stuck with him more than he expected.
now, holding the doll, he brushes the hair again, running his fingers gently over the strands. he doesn’t speak to it, doesn’t pretend it’s really you.
but it feels grounding, comforting—a small piece of you in his space, keeping him calm after the chaos of training and travel.
later, when he’s lying in bed, exhausted, he places the doll on the nightstand, upright, hands on its lap. sometimes, in the quiet, he runs a hand through the hair again, adjusting it with care.
the letters from you sit nearby, stacked neatly. he smiles faintly at them, then glances at the doll.
it reminds him of that tiny goodbye, that quiet connection, the part of himself that only you ever see.
𑣲 AOSHI TOKIMITSU
aoshi sits on the edge of his hotel bed in a foreign country, the sounds of the city outside faint through the window. he just mailed a love letter to you, and his hands are still shaking a little.
“…did i say the right things?” he murmurs, biting his lip.
he decides to check the small mailbox in the hotel lobby, hoping maybe there’s something from you.
he opens it slowly. among the regular mail, there’s a small box.
curious, he carefully takes it out. inside… a doll. a mini version of you.
he freezes for a second, blinking. the hair, the tiny clothes, the folded little hands—it’s almost unsettling how detailed it is.
“…huh,” he whispers. “…that’s… really you.”
he lifts it gently, cradling it like it might break. instinctively, his fingers smooth the hair, brushing out any tiny tangles. then he straightens the outfit, adjusting the tiny sleeves, collar, and folds so everything looks neat.
if a stray strand sticks out or the clothes look messy, he pauses to fix it, careful, precise. brushing hair down, aligning the little dress or shirt, making sure the doll looks like it belongs—like you.
earlier, before leaving for the game, he had said goodbye to you. quiet and anxious. your soft smile, the tug at his sleeve—it stayed in his mind all the way here.
now, holding the doll, he talks softly, barely audible.
“you’d laugh at me if you saw this,” he mutters, brushing the hair again. “…there, that’s better.”
at night, when the hotel room is quiet, he sets the doll on the desk or beside the bed.
sometimes he hugs it briefly before sleep. sometimes he fixes the hair again, tucking stray strands behind the tiny shoulders, smoothing it like he would if it were really you. the clothes get straightened too, neat and perfect.
he doesn’t talk to it much, doesn’t pretend it’s alive—but keeping it near, brushing its hair, fixing its clothes… it makes being far away from you easier.
it reminds him of you, of the quiet goodbye, and of the love he just sent in that letter.
𑣲 REO MIKAGE
reo comes home after a long day of training, the apartment quiet. he’s still thinking about the upcoming matches and strategies for his team, but something on the counter catches his eye—a small, neatly wrapped box.
he quirks an eyebrow. “…huh, what’s this?”
he opens it carefully. inside… a doll. a pretty doll that looks like you?..
he stares at it for a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips. the hair, the outfit, even the tiny hands folded on its lap—it’s uncanny, but in a way that makes him pause.
“…wow,” he mutters softly. “…that’s… pretty good.”
earlier, you had told him you had to travel to see your family for a while. the goodbye had been small, sweet, and quiet—your hand brushing his, a soft smile, a shy “see you soon.” he had watched you leave, feeling an ache he doesn’t usually admit.
now, holding the doll, he can’t put it down. he runs his fingers gently over the hair, adjusting the tiny outfit. he sits it upright, taps the little hands lightly, and smooths the hair down as if it were really you in front of him.
he leans back in his chair, the doll resting in his lap.
sometimes, when reviewing plays or thinking about training, his fingers absent-mindedly brush the hair again, smoothing it, tucking it behind the tiny shoulders. it’s calming, grounding. a small piece of you while you’re away.
at night, when the apartment is quiet, he sets the doll on the desk near the bed. sometimes he hugs it briefly, just a small gesture, like a silent promise.
he doesn’t talk to it much, doesn’t pretend it’s alive—but having it there makes the distance feel smaller, keeps him focused while still thinking of you.
𑣲 BUNNY IGLESIAS
bunny comes back from shopping, paper bags hanging from his arms. the door clicks shut behind him, and the apartment feels quiet again. too quiet.
you’re still away because of family emergencies, and every room reminds him of that.
he sets the bags down and notices a small box on the counter.
“…oh,” he murmurs softly.
he opens it carefully. inside is… a doll? but looks so much like you..
his breath catches for a second. the hair is soft, the clothes neat, the little face calm. he lifts it gently, holding it close to his chest for a moment before smiling faintly.
“…there you are,” he says, voice low and polite like always.
after putting the groceries away, he sets the doll on the desk. his fingers fidget with the tiny hands, then he tilts it upright, thoughtful. “…goalkeeper?” he asks quietly, almost playful.
he grabs a small ball from the floor and rolls it slowly across the desk. the doll tips over from the light touch.
bunny freezes.
“…oh—no, no, i’m sorry,” he panics softly, scooping it up right away. his hands shake a little as he smooths the hair back into place, fixing any frizz, straightening the tiny clothes again and again. “…that was too rough. i didn’t mean to.”
he holds it carefully, brushing the hair slowly, the same gentle motion each time until his breathing calms down.
later, when the apartment is quiet, he sets the doll beside him on the couch.
sometimes he pretends to play again, very gently this time. other times he just holds it, thumb brushing the hair, making sure it stays neat.
he knows it’s not really you.
but while you’re far away, dealing with things he can’t help with, keeping the doll close makes him feel like he’s still protecting you in some small way.
「©valentinesxoxo˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 」
I'm not much for naming things but: Danny's associated with green and M'gann's a White Martian, so... Spearmint (like the green and white mint candies)? Just a thought.
Prompt: Magic removed Amity Park from the map. JL didn't notice, but in an Alderaan type moment (Star Wars ref. yay!) The martian on Watchtower monitoring duty heard the residents get silent unanimously.
Of course they need to be investigated! So M'gann gets her watch partner to take over and flies there, discovering an odd green rift of death energy doing a black hole effect and it sucks her in. Danny gets landed on/ flown into when she tumbles through the rift. She tried getting a message through to JL when she felt herself getting sucked in, but the message was not received due to ectoplasmic interference.
So Danny has to figure out how to get her AND Amity Park back home!
(Just a thought. I'm curious how you flesh it out if you do!)
masterpost
This is such an interesting idea, and it definitely deserves much more story than I can write in single prompt, so this here is just a beginning and I will continue. I hope it's up to your expectations
Also, I really love the Spearmint idea
*****
M’gann understood the importance of monitor duty in Watchtower, she really did. She also understood why they were taught it while still in this gray area between fully dependent sidekicks and fully independent heroes, that was the main reason the Young Justice Team even existed.
It didn’t make it any less boring. Even when she had a decent duty partner. Don't get her wrong, Green Arrow was a much better option than Batman or Superman, it was just awkward. At least he seemed equally done with it and didn't scold her for jumping between satellite cameras just a bit too fast to actually ‘monitor’ anything.
And it was only twenty minutes into the two hour shift.
One of the sixty (or so) screens, the one directly in front of her, blinked to the view of the American Midwest. She was about to skip further, when a sudden movement caught her attention. She clicked a few keys to review the footage and asked, still unsure if her eyes weren't deceiving her.
“Did the entire city… just disappear?“
Green Arrow nodded, equally stunned.
“I'm going to check this out” she spluttered, already flying out of the room and doing her best to get Zeta to send her as close as possible. It was a bit tricky when she couldn't see the keyboard. She managed though, so before the adult hero even finished yelling that it was above her skill level, she was out.
From there, getting to the disappeared city was a piece of cake.
cw. none, established relationship, gn! reader
for each date you have with kaveh, he covertly collects a little something which would randomly meet his eyes throughout the length of the day— it didn‘t matter to him if it was something small off the ground or minuscule in its entirety, of insignificant importance to the people crossing paths with you.
so, what about a pretty flower or a random stone on the edge of the sideway? he realizes it's perfect— indistinctly beautiful.
or a sudden fallen leaf which traverses right on top of your head he now, obviously, has to fish out of your hair— all awkwardly and shy, while kaveh was the first to grunt out in frustration because his hand kept being too shaky, too difficult, unable to free you off the featherlight leaf tangled in your pretty hair.
but then he realizes something, something he had never really thought about more throughout; what about that smile you hold close to your heart? the precious split that you only show once in a while— but with him, you were proudly wearing it all day long, again and again, lips easily formed with the corners trailed upwards and glued on your face.
there's a brief moment in time where kaveh thinks you stopped moving altogether as the world was silenced and frozen within itself, it's when his soft eyes cross your own and shocker, unmistakably he couldn‘t feast himself satiated off your smile— face and eyes, so kaveh made sure to grab a camera on your next date, yet be warned, he didn't tell you about it nor mentioned it— aside from that, the camera was not just a random one, but a particular exemplar that he had once purchased off a wandering seller from the nation of justice, with money he certainly could‘ve saved up.
Horror movie idea:
A day in the life of a normal salaryman. He wakes up, gets ready for work, gets to work and begins working. Every couple of shots there's a shadowy thing watching and just sort of staring toward the camera.
But all this is a distraction. Instead, the horror is subjected to the viewer.
From the beginning of the movie, there's a constant buzzing noise which initially is undetectable but slowly increases over the course of the movie.
The movie screen starts tilted by .001 degrees and rotates very slowly until the movie is sideways.
The red and green tints are gradually moved in opposite directions of the sliders.
Every several frames, there's a single frame of a child who's been twisted into this horrific image and every time the image flashes, it looks more human.
Meanwhile, the actual unaltered video is just the guy working at his computer. Maybe sometimes he gets up to stretch or have some water. But there's nothing strange, except that shadow thing appearing randomly in the background.
Then at the end of the movie, everything snaps to normal when the salaryman's alarm goes off and he clocks out and goes home. Last scene is him in bed. He turns out the lights and goes to sleep. Final shot shows the shadowy thing watching while the guy is asleep.
Genshin Men when you compliment them randomly
[ Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli, Childe, gn reader]
Notes : fluff, I was bored and boom!, hope you guys like it!
JM 20 April 2020 Vlive
Anon ask:
Wait was this JK in Jimin and RM's vlive? At 3:27 youtu. be/MWTKy6R7y0g?t=207 the way RM side eyes whoever starts humming and tries to start whistling over whoever it is. Sounds like JK. Its definitely not JM. Its someone in the room. You can tell by the way RM cut his eyes quick. BTW, if that is JK, why hide it? He not allowed to be in a live with RM & JM for some reason or was he waiting on JM and they didn't want anyone to know? BTW watch that entire video, its a good reminder of sus Jikook.
Jimin's Vlive 14 April 2020. Special guest - RM.
Your link.
Ok, let's talk about this Vlive anon.
This is JM's Vlive, that he 'invited' RM to join.
JM starts the Vlive by saying he invited RM to join him, but RM is already 13 minutes late, so he decided to start without him and is waiting for RM to arrive.
JM isn't alone in the room even prior to RM arriving. He keeps looking sideways, behind the camera.
and:
He is kind of singing the "come in, please"... Is he meaning the viewers or the person that was there with him?
JM does this several times, the looking at someone else there.
He keeps looking sideways, smiles, giggles, being interested in something that is going on there off camera.
JM has the camera situated far away from him, to allow the bigger angle (to fit him and his late guest in). I mention this, because at some point, before RM arrives JM wants to read the comments but can't, as the camera is too far away from him, so he has to get up and close to the camera to read them saying how hard it is, again, looking sideways and giggling. Then he has a phone handed to him to be able to read the comments, by whom you may ask? Well, me too.
All of this prior to RM arriving.
If JK was there, why not show him? This question keeps coming up time and time again. There can be several reasons for that, one of them, this being a JM & RM scheduled Vlive, and JK being there, perhaps waiting for JM or just lounging there is not a piece of information they want to share with the viewers.
RM arrives 5 minutes into the live. This is just as JM gets up to get a device to read the comments. JM got up to get a device, but sits back down without one.
In the meantime, RM arrived and is getting ready to join, and you can hear what seems to be whispering in the background.
JM gets back up again, gets close up to the camera to read the comments while waiting for RM to get ready.
Then JM is handed a phone to read the comments on, saying "thank you" to whomever it was that handed him that device.
At around 7:30-7:33 min. you hear a sound, kind of a "ah" and JM looks back behind the camera and continues to talk. To me it sounded like JK, call me crazy.
At this point RM comes in apologising he's late, and they get into their pre-planned Vlive.
Jimin says to RM he wants to make a slogan for their Vlive, telling him that fans have a nickname for them: Mini and Moni. Once again, showing just how much they are aware of what's going on in social media.
RM is so funny. At some point he asks JM if this is streaming live, like what? He then says he thought JM was recording it, and turns to the camera to say hello, lol. Didn't he know they were going live? Obviously he knew the content was pre-planned, but maybe thought JM was recording and the was going to upload, idk.
Then at 11:53-11:56 min. RM is holding the whisk and asking what it's called. Someone says something in the background, not translated, sounding, again, like JK. Perhaps answering RM's question inadvertently or maybe not inadvertently because JM looks in his direction a second before he talks. And RM looks at whoever said it and kind of lingers there. This is clearly neither RM or JM saying the word.
Both keep looking at the other person there once in a while.
At 13:31-13:35 JM goes off camera to bring hot water. At some point he isn't talking and RM looks again in the direction of whoever was there and is acting kind of strange, uneasy, nervous. Then JM starts talking again and comes back. Did he stop to 'interact' with whoever was there? RM's reaction/behaviour was kind of sus at this point.
15:25 min. again, whoever is there must do something and they both look up at him, again, lingering.
They both keep looking in that direction randomly. But it's clear there is someone there. This keeps going on all the way through the live.
19:37 min. approx. again, sounds like someone says something and they both look up at him.
20:40 min. RM asks JM where he found the music he put on in the background from, and JM says he listens to it while doing the dishes, only to, once again, look in the direction of whoever it was that was there. Later on the dishwashing subject comes up again, JM insisting he is really good at washing the dishes, again, his gaze seems to find it's way in the direction that is not RM or the camera, lol.
At some point they are both struggling to read the comments, getting up closer, and I wonder what happened to that device JM had to read the comments on? Did it go back to it's rightful owner (cough, JK, cough)?
27:50 min. here comes in the humming.
Now let's get the context here. JM had kind of Jazzy music going on. He stops the music they talk about it and RM starts whistling it.
This could be JM humming, although it doesn't quite seem like it's him, doesn't really sound like his voice, and also the source of the humming seems to be from behind the camera.
But RM's reaction, that's what really makes me believe this isn't JM. The second the humming starts RM looks in that direction, the same direction where that certain other person seems to be throughout the live and starts to whistle quite loud immediately and looking into the camera, to perhaps cover over the humming?
RM does whistle once in a while, but this specific instance was super suspicious.
You already know what I think about the identity of the person there. It's JK. Yes, it's JK. And yes, he is the one humming in the background.
29:35 min. RM looking, yet again, in the direction of that person (I think that by now we have established there is a person there and that I believe that person is JK), only to be followed by a sound off camera. Could have been the sound of a door closing. Perhaps the person that was in the room had to go, left the room and the door clicked close behind them.
30:52 min. RM says JM's arm is trembling. JM says how he is getting weaker, and then, comes the JK mentioning, because, how can we get through a JM Vlive without mentioning JK? Really quite impossible. JM says: "I've never stood against Jungkookie recently". RM answers "that's the same for all of us", lol.
End of the Vlive they have to get up to turn off the camera. That would answer the question if there was a staff member in the room, perhaps handling the camera, and that is the person they were looking to or at. The answer to that would be no. JM was the one handling the camera.
Just one more to add to the suspicious Vlives list.
Fortress
A request for “the reader is having a bad time mental health wise and they make a blanket fort together and just. Chill? Maybe cuddles and some reassurances?“ led to this, with some other influences. We could all use some comfort nowadays.
Mature (Dewey Finn/reader)
@thewolfisapartofmysoul @janitor-boy @beejiesbitch @turtlepated @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @mimiscappinisideblog
Enjoy! `