#also hi this is my first full body art without tracing

[howhow326]

X-men OC I drew in 5 hours

Read more for Lore:

(His casual clothes without shading cuz I got lazy)

Real Name: Antonius Azinzen Lenoir

Species: Mutant/Aziză hybrid

Mutant Name: Aziză

Affiliation: Brotherhood leaning X-Men

Personality: Mischivious/Capracious/Spiteful

Mutation: Flight, animal telepathy, biokinesis, portal creation [Orun], enhanced smell, spirit sense, magic sense

Lore

Birthplace: Cotonou, Benin

Family: Jacques Lenoir, Lamatou Bio Lenoir

Backstory: Over two decades ago, an American man and a Beninese woman fell in love and married. His whole life was ahead of him... bug her life was cut short when their only son was born.

Heartbroken, the man and child fled back to his hometown, New Orleans. It was there when strange events began occuring; the child would talk to animals, and they would respond as if trained, and he sweared he could see invisible beings that others could not everywhere.

Jacques Lenoir thought his child was posessed. But then the truth revealed itself on the boy's 14 birthday, when he woke up with ant wings and antenna. It was then that the man realized that his wife must be playing a cruel joke on him, afterall, her name for him was ant in her mother's tongue.

Fearing for his son's safety as a mutant in America, Jacques sent Antonius to the one place he thought he was safe, Xavier's school for gifted mutants.

... but that's just his father's side of the story, so here is his mother's: Lamatou Bio is not human. She is an Aziză, a nature spirit that guides humankind to learn the art of Voodoo. But she broke the rules by having a child with a human, and her punishment was the destruction of her human form... but her spirit lives on. And if her husband won't listen to her teachings, then she will guide her son to his birthright as a master Houngun. Afterall, mother knows best.

[feroluce]

So I spoke somewhat about my thoughts on Emanator Sampo here, but I never really thought of it from a design point of view or what kind of powers he would have until just recently. But I actually kind of love leaning into it from a "stage hand" perspective?

Because like. Aha's body in THEIR official art is completely black, giving attention to all the fun brightly colored things around THEM. And that's so fitting for Sampo! He usually prefers to be a side character. He likes to act from the shadows. His is a much more subtle hand.

So I wonder if as an Emanator, a lot of his clothes are actually very dark? Not necessarily plain, still extravagant and needlessly detailed in things like cut and quality with lots of different fabrics and textures and ornamentation, but dark. Or maybe even his skin itself becomes blackened further down his body; his hands in particular are dark, as a sort of sleight of hand reference.

The motif of a lot of straps wrapped around him like in his canon design is still present, but they're all loose and flowing off of him like paper streamers now instead of restraining him or holding him together. He is no longer contained! Or maybe they're still a bit more rigid/heavy, but just draped more like red stage curtains!

And this is like. Fully self-indulgent, but I love inhuman designs, and there's nothing in canon to say I can't do this, so screw it! Go for broke!! Maybe it's not visible to normal people, but Sampo having a second set of arms would be really cool, as further sleight of hand reference. One set is almost normal looking, but his hands are a bright, attention-drawing white, and the other is dark, set almost in the shadows of the first arms, to act less noticeably.

He also has something of a broken heart design to him in canon (the front of his black shirt with its jagged shape down the middle; his coat looks like a full heart shape in the back), and I actually like him keeping that element as an Emanator, because I think it suits him. Sampo says his taste in aesthetics and views on Elation involve human dignity,

and the story he helps create in Belobog involves the long and winding road of resistance and survival and eventual triumph in the face of some very adverse, oppressing odds. (I'm pretty sure I heard he once called Wildfire "artless" though, plus the man acts like he thinks Shame is some kind of dessert, so like ndkdjzjskkd) But the point being!!

I think Sampo is someone who can appreciate heartbreak and angst and tragedy in a story, because it makes the victory at the end all the sweeter. And this would be another thing he shares with Aha, because I think THEY did bless the Mourning Actors partly just to be a little shit, but also because Aha does recognize tragedy as part of THEIR Path, too, and you can see it in some of the game. So a broken heart motif can still suit him, and I like him having elements of both comedy and tragedy. Like his clothing having a happy sun/sad moon (like the moon in Aha's art) or him having both of the traditional comedy/tragedy masks in his design.

And as Emanator, Sampo can maybe play with the stage settings environment, too. Like lights sometimes behave strangely around him, appearing blindingly bright to someone or dramatically dark. Sampo wills it and suddenly there seems to be a metaphorical spotlight right where he wants everyone to look. And when he doesn't want to be noticed, his face seems to be cast in shadow, he seemingly just fades into the background, no one notices or recognizes him and he sneaks away easily. He can create smoke or fog literally out of thin air without his bombs now, too, the air will just suddenly thicken until his stage is obscured, and Sampo can set the scene as he pleases or disappear without a trace.

And in line with being a stage hand, Sampo can direct attention like no other. He was already extremely good at this as a normal mortal, and becoming an Emanator only took it up to 11, past human limits. Sampo points, and all present feel compelled to follow his fingertip. He looks away, and they all follow his gaze. He can even affect the mood of an audience; he can influence everyone to be calm and placid or he can whip them into a feverish frenzy. Sometimes a crowd will start to become unsettled, agitation stirring until it boils over, until it incites a full on violent mob.

And in the middle of all that chaos will stand one perfectly calm figure, face cast in shadow, until they quietly slip away out of sight.

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (1)

ー☆ Chapter 1: The death of peace of mind

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: light cursing ー☆ Word count: 6.9k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hii, first chapter is out, hope you all enjoy it! I hope the lyrics aren't confusing, I went ahead and tried out something new with this story, hopefully it's as enjoyable as I planned it out to be. Please do check the playlist as it'll be updated with each chapter and I also advise you listen to the song before or while reading the chapters, it'll have a different feel. Taglist is open, thank you for showing interest! Please leave feedback and enjoy now!

Taglist: @orshii @lovely-red2 @juicy-red @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog

⟨Series M.list ⟩

♫Playlist♫

『I made another mistake

Thought I could change, thought I could make it out』

The rustle of paper, the zipping of a pencil case, the drying scent of freshly used paint, and the oily feeling on your fingertips after using acrylics, the slight burn against your middle finger after having held your pencil tightly for hours were all things I was used to, familiar with. I bit my lower lip as my eyes were stuck to my A5 sketchbook, the paper thick, entranced by the black charcoal forming a way too familiar shape. The outline of the person was dark, shadows creeping around his body, faceless. I didn’t have it in me to put too much detail into his face, my mind kept wandering. I was feeling slightly lost. The weather was getting worse day by day, the sky dark, casting a gloomy feel over our heads. It didn’t help that I haven’t slept well for three days in a row, but perhaps that had something to do with the full moon—or so my mother has said while cooking dinner yesterday.

A sigh left my lips as my fingers itched to trace another line against the paper, to perfect the stray strand of light-colored hair falling against the man’s forehead. My shoulders were hunched over and I only now registered the soreness in my neck and lower back, having been sitting at this stool for almost two hours now. When I was drawing, or painting, time seemed to fly by in a wink, leaving me completely oblivious to everything happening around me. It was a means to calm my mind, to soothe my feelings, and a means to existing without wondering, dwelling, or feeling the dread of not being good enough—and perhaps the worst thought which quite often recurred in my scattered mind was that I didn’t know what I would do with myself once I was done with University. Opening an art club for all the art lovers was a small step in feeling a little accomplishment, however, that would be gone as soon as I was out and away from this place. Who would take over then? Were there students who were interested enough, loved art enough, to continue the little legacy I would leave behind? Those were pressing questions in the back of my mind sometimes, and I knew I was worrying about insignificant things, but they felt very crucial to me. If I could leave a little piece of me behind everywhere I went, nobody would be able to forget me, right?

“Bye, Y/N!” The sudden chirping of my name combined with the greeting finally snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked up, a small smile forming on my lips as I waved at the leaving students. They weren’t my students per se, I was only an Art major, but I did view them as my little apprentices. They were ambitious and determined to learn everything they could, eager to contribute as much as they could. I appreciated their effort and felt glad that people like them existed, it gave me hope in humankind. Not that I had much with everything going on in the world, but I could only appreciate and admire those who found a little kindness in their hearts to share with others.

I finally felt like I was done with my drawing as I sat back, rolling my shoulders back and cracking my neck as the last few students left the room, leaving me alone with the approaching girl with a grin on her face. I turned my head and watched her as she giddily approached me, gripping her sketchbook to her chest.

“Wanna see?” She asked with a chuckle and I nodded with a smile, eyes falling on my best friend’s drawing. I instantly recognized the features of the older woman and I chuckled as I took in the smaller version of my best friend, grinning up at her mother as she held a little flower up to her. She never stopped amazing me with her beautiful creations, and I couldn’t help but clap for her briefly.

“This is gorgeous, Seulgi, I’m in love.” I said as I reached my hand out and lightly traced the leaves of the willow tree in the drawing, making my best friend grin happily. She had her hair down today, her black curls falling around her shoulders. Her hair has gotten long, but she didn’t want to cut it, said she liked it more like this. It did suit her and gave her a younger look; her colorful outfits complementing her personality and overall looks well.

“What did you draw?” She asked and I glanced over at my own drawing, sucking my lower lip between my teeth. I really shouldn’t have drawn him again, but doing so brought me comfort. It always did. Despite the heartbreak he left in his wake, Yunho was a person whom I have deeply loved and found shelter in once—my drawings of him only reflected that. I have anticipated Seulgi’s reaction as I took my sketchbook off from the drafting board, turning it around and letting her eyes rake over it as she sighed, giving me a slightly disappointed look as she placed one hand on her hip. I looked away and quickly closed my sketchbook, getting off the stool. My hips and back protested in pain as I stretched my arms overhead, letting out a groan when my stiff muscles strained and vertebras finally popped.

“I thought we agreed you would stop drawing Yunho…” Seulgi trailed off as she watched me start packing away my things into my dark green backpack. Oh, well, she certainly wasn’t wrong, but I got carried away today—I haven’t even realized I was drawing Yunho until I was done with the outline of his body.

“Uh, yeah,” I muttered slightly embarrassed as Seulgi shook her head and closed her own sketchbook, balancing on one leg as she unzipped her backpack and placed it against her thigh, “But we talked about the feeling of comfort today and a place or person whom makes you feel safe and—I got carried away, sorry.”

Seulgi gave me a sympathetic look as she had forced her sketchbook inside her backpack and lowered her leg, swinging her bag around her shoulders, “And you couldn’t have drawn you—mother? Or teddy bear from third grade?”

Her offhanded question made me chuckle as I looked at her amused, my backpack hanging off my shoulders as I only wore one strap.

“Mom would flip if I drew her and made even the smallest mistake. I’d rather avoid getting scolded about making her eyebrow darker than it actually is.” Seulgi and I shared a look before we both started giggling as I recalled the one and only time I drew my mother, swearing to never do it again as she found every single little detail wrong about her features, pointed them out to me, and then proceeded to ignore me for the next three days. Thinking back on it, it is a quite hilarious memory, but back in that moment she made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, talented enough, making me doubt my skills for a very long time. Until I met Seulgi and she started freaking out about my art, calling me phenomenal.

“Yeah, perhaps drawing your mom wouldn’t be the smartest, but seriously, Y/N, how long has it been?” Seulgi seemed to think for a second as we started for the door, “Five years? You certainly should be over Yunho by now.”

Hearing his name left a sour taste in my mouth even if it shouldn’t have. Despite the passing of years he somehow still made me feel bitter about everything that’s happened between us. I hate that feeling, but I couldn’t get rid of it and it was frustrating.

“I am over him.” I muttered as we left the art studio and I locked the door, making Seulgi hum next to me sounding not too convinced. I sighed and rolled my eyes as I pocketed the key, then we started walking down the empty hallway, headed for the exit.  

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Seulgi decided to change the subject as she bounced on the balls of her feet, a huge grin appearing on her lips. I raised my eyebrows at her sudden excitement and thought for a second before I shook my head no. We turned the corner to the left, having arrived in the musical studies department. The hallway was littered with doors on both sides, which were studios for the music majors, private little rooms where they could record and write whatever songs they wanted.

“Cool,” Seulgi grinned and suddenly gripped my hand, her lips falling into a pout, eyes slightly widening. Oh, I knew what was coming next, yet her honey like tone still made me cringe, “Come with me to the Outlaw? Please?”

My eyebrows furrowed hearing the mentioned place. It was famous amongst our university’s students. It was a run down and cheap pub where degenerates gathered to have fun almost every night, drinking their night away, wasting their money and braincells on unimportant things.

“Why would I go there?”

“Because I’m asking?” Seulgi raised an eyebrow, “And because the Noir Zenith are playing tonight and I really want to go—”

“What is a Noir Zenith?” I asked confused, making Seulgi’s eyes widen to the point of bulging out. She looked funny as she let go of my hand and gasped as if I had sworn out her mother or someone she really cared about.

“It’s the coolest band from our university! Are you telling me you haven’t heard of them?” She asked outraged making me laugh, “I’m speechless.”

“Well, you know I don’t waste my time by drinking my sorrows away in a shitty pub surrounded by even shittier people who try to chase fame with scratchy and awful voices. Is the band made up by some music major students?”

“They do not have scratchy and awful voices, Y/N!” Seulgi looked outraged by this point, making me raise my eyebrows in surprise, “God, they are one of the best bands to ever exist—”

“Yeah, right,” I rolled my eyes as we entered the main hall of our university, “Go on and disregard all of the previous phenomenal bands to ever exist, nice one, Seulgi—wait, is this about Wooyoung? Didn’t you say he’s part of a band as well?”

At the mention of said boy all anger and incredulity disappeared from Seulgi’s face and she shrunk back, hiding her face behind her hair, “Yeah, he’s actually a vocalist of the band. Noir Zenith.”

“Oh,” Was all I could say as I watched her push her hair behind her ears, face almost as red as a tomato. I tried not to laugh at my best friend, her crush on the boy painfully obvious, “And I assume you want to go watch them perform tonight?”

Seulgi nodded wordlessly as she pushed open the double doors for us, “At Outlaw?”

She nodded again and I hummed, raking my brain for any plans I had made for tonight, but I found none. I had zero excuses to refuse Seulgi for so I glanced at her as we ascended the few stairs, licking my lips as I dwelled on the idea of being seen at such place. I mean, it couldn’t be that bad, right? After all, it was just a band singing from our university and I would be out of there the second they were done. That sounded pretty reasonable and alright to me, so I hummed, and smiled at Seulgi.

“What time?” Her eyes widened as she whipped her head towards me as we were headed to the bus station.

“Oh, my God!” She shrieked and flung herself at me, almost throwing us off balance, “You’re the best, I love you! Seven, you should be ready at six thirty, and I’ll pick you up and we’ll drive there together—oh, my God, I’m so excited! Wooyoung said they’ll be performing their newest song and he said it’s so fire! Mingi wrote the lyrics, and Wooyoung helped with the chorus, he actually showed me a snippet—do not tell Mingi that—and it was so good, oh, my God—I’m rambling, sorry, but you said yes and I just—”

Seulgi cut herself off with a shriek as she let go of me, leaving me partially deaf as her shrill voice rang through my right ear, making me wince. Of course, I wouldn’t tell Mingi, whoever that was.

“Alright, I’ll be done by six thirty.” I muttered as Seulgi skipped ahead, sitting on the bench by the bus stop, grinning from ear to ear as she took her phone out of her pocket, starting to type furiously. She was probably texting Wooyoung, but I couldn’t be too sure, they had periods when they would talk all day and night, and then periods when they would go radio silent for a week or so. Their relationship was interesting but Seulgi never talked too much about it, having once muttered that if she thought about Wooyoung for too long she’d fall for him—or something like that, I couldn’t be sure, Seulgi says a lot of things which she only half-heartedly means.

『Promises break, need to hear you say

"You're gonna keep it now"』

            The pub was exactly like in the stories of others, and an exact replica of what I had in my mind. Which was bad, so being right here only made it worse as I allowed my eyes to travel to the ceiling, noticing all the uncovered pipes traveling above our heads. The lights were dim and there was almost like a light fog in the air, thankfully there weren’t any foul smells, like cigarettes or something else. The room was spacious, which was the only alright thing I could find about this place, as the walls were made of burgundy brick, a few falling out here and there. The dark wood floor seemed to be rotten in some places and I could only hiss as the front of my boots caught in an uneven plank, sending me slightly forward. Seulgi threw me an amused look before continuing her trot towards—I didn’t know where, but I decided to follow her blindly as I really wasn’t vibing with this place. Posters hung from the brick wall here and there and some graffiti covered it where the bar was. Chairs and tables were littered around the room, all looking quite old in age as I noticed one chair missing a leg, chuckling at the idea of someone toppling over once sitting on it. Seulgi gasped quite loudly and stopped walking for a second, making me crash into her back and throw her an unamused look as she swiftly turned around, lips pressed together and hands cupping her cheeks.

“Do I look alright, Y/N?” She blurted out, eyebrows furrowing, “Or am I too much? Do you think—did I totally miss the vibes with this outfit? I look ridiculous right now, don’t I—”

“No, Seulgi, you don’t.” I decided to cut off my best friend’s panicked rambling, placing my hands on her shoulders. I allowed my eyes to take in her outfit again and I smirked at her as we made eye contact. She was wearing black nylon bomber pants paired with fishnets which were peeking out above the waistband of her pants, her white crop top stopping at the middle of her torso. A black bomber jacket was thrown around her shoulders, matching her pants, and her white boots reached just underneath her knees. She had straightened her long hair and I helped her by making a smokey eye for her, accentuating the depth of her beautiful eyes, sharpening her stare. She looked absolutely gorgeous and I needed her to stop second guessing her outfit, “You look fucking hot and anyone in their right mind would want to devour you right now.”

“You included?” Seulgi flirted cheekily and I pretended to gag as I pushed her playfully away by her arms, making Seulgi laugh as she pushed her hair behind her shoulders, “Alright, I believe you.”

“Very well.” I grinned and allowed her to grip my elbow as the crowd was slightly denser here as we made our way towards the front of the room, headed to where the small stage was. I could see a drum set up on the dark stage, and suddenly I was veered to the left, almost getting whiplash by the force Seulgi pulled me after herself. I took in the people around me and decided that I definitely wasn’t part of this crowd, and it was showing. One, I was painfully sober and they weren’t; two, I certainly missed the point of this being a pub dominated by rock lovers, and my outfit had nothing to do with it. Against my better judgement, I have decided to wear a tight black skirt which barely reached the middle of my thighs, paired with high heel boots which reached my knees. A white tank top peeked through the burgundy long sleeved blouse I wore over it, having discarded my leather jacket in Seulgi’s car out of fear of losing it. All in all, the outfit was awesome, it’s just that it didn’t really match with the place in question I was at. I was slowly starting to regret coming here as we finally stopped walking and Seulgi’s hand, which brought comfort, disappeared from my elbow. I suddenly became aware that we have stopped by a table, and my best friend’s arms were around a guy’s shoulder as the two hugged each other—rather tightly, might I add. I allowed my eyes to fall on the guy and realized, only because Seulgi had shown me countless pictures of him, that it was Wooyoung. The only reason we were here, her crush. I tried to hide my snickering as they pulled away from each other and I have noticed Seulgi’s flushed cheeks, which was probably wise as Seulgi’s eyes were instantly on me, holding a warning in them.

“This is Y/N, my best friend.” She said sweetly as she lightly pushed Wooyoung towards me, “Y/N, this is Wooyoung the—vocalist and guitarist of Noir Zenith.”

“Cool name.” I muttered half-heartedly as Wooyoung extended his hand to shake, I was only speaking because I had to say something if I didn’t want to come off rude. A huge smile broke onto Wooyoung’s face at the praise of his band’s name and he eagerly shook my hand, making me force a smile onto my face when he held my hand for an unnecessary long time. The guy was just around my height and seemed to be buzzing with energy as he tapped his foot against the ground, sneaking glances towards Seulgi before finally facing her. His jawline was sharp and nose high as I took in his profile, his pretty eyes focused on my best friend. His hair was longer at the back and had two colors, black and blonde, it certainly didn’t look bad on him. He seemed to be the only one, besides myself, not dressed fitting for the place, and suddenly I didn’t feel as singled out as I had been moments prior, thankful for the light grey extremely baggy jeans littered with glitter he was wearing and for the grey and black faded out loose shirt hiding his frame. The front was slightly tucked in and a maroon belt held his pants to his hips, matching the color of his sneakers. The guy wore a few earrings and I just heard Seulgi complimenting them, making me chuckle. I knew she wanted to talk to him, so I didn’t bother them and instead looked around again, feeling slightly awkward, before I rested my gaze on the other two sitting at the table.

One guy was looking down at his phone, completely immersed by it as his long fingers were typing quickly, his wavy black hair falling into his eyes. He wore a very intricate white shirt, the material seemed to part at his shoulders and only covered his upper arm, cuffed and puffed out at his wrists, leaving the rest of his arms bare. A black corset like looking fabric was wrapped around his torso, stopping right below his chest and everything was neatly tucked inside black dress pants, an expensive silver chain hanging under the neckline of his shirt. The outfit was something I would’ve never thought of putting together, yet, it looked fabulous on the man and for a few seconds I found myself gawking at him. But I quickly caught myself and looked away awkwardly, hoping that nobody noticed my staring, instead, I found myself looking at the third guy, taking him in. His demeanor screamed confidence as he wore a smirk on his cherry red plush lips, jawline visibly sharp as his head was turned to the side, his nose tall and long. His tan skin glistened underneath the shitty lights of the pub, yet you were able to spot a few covered up blemishes around his jaw. His neck was heavily decorated with silver chains of various dimensions, a shinning silver pick dangling lower on his exposed chest as his black tank top was low cut and form fitting. The guy had a big midnight blue jacket over his frame and it had an interesting design, his jeans ripped at the knee and black like his tank top. Silver chain like bracelets wrapped around his wrists and I found my eyes drawn to his hands as he was pushing his glass from one hand to the other, fingers littered with smaller and bigger rings, the one with a red gem catching my eye. His nails seemed to have dirt scribbled over them, that is, until I looked harder and realized it was chapped black nail polish. I couldn’t deny how nice this guy looked and as I looked back up at his face, I found him looking back at me. My heart somersaulted but I played it off—hopefully my face really didn’t show any emotion—as I steeled my gaze and allowed blankness to settle over my features. His black hair was shorter and fell over his eyes, covering his forehead. The guy’s eyes were sharp and his gaze intimidating as his face remained unexpressive, features cold as he seized me up, suddenly the smirk back on his face. My eyes narrowed as the guy continued watching me smugly, and I just noticed the little something which looked like a smudge of something on his right cheekbone. Did he smudge dirt on it? Was he even aware that it was there? The possibility of him not knowing his perfect face was tainted brought a smirk on my lips and an eyebrow of the guy’s flew up, his gaze almost challenging as our stare down was abruptly stopped by a chair scraping backwards. My gaze went back to the very handsome man and I was surprised by the friendly gaze sent my way.

His features were soft yet sharp at the same time, his eyes big and warm as his lips were plump and looked soft. His skin was tan too and the highlighter reflected off his cheekbones, giving him an ethereal feel. There was a small piercing in his nose and I was slightly alarmed as he suddenly walked around the table, approaching my side. My body tensed and I glanced towards Seulgi, who was deep in conversation with Wooyoung. I assume these three must be friends since they were sitting at the same table.

“I’m Seonghwa, Wooyoung’s friend.” The guy finally spoke up, his voice was definitely softer than I expected it to be, and I reluctantly shook his extended hand.

“My name is Y/N.” I answered politely and retracted my hand from his as fast as I could. Seonghwa continued smiling as he looked towards Seulgi and his own friend, “Oh, uhm, I’m Seulgi’s best friend.”

“I figured,” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. The aura this outfit gave him certainly didn’t match his current attitude, “Wooyoung mentioned Seulgi coming by and bringing her friend, it’s nice meeting you.”

“Oh, you too.” I offered him a lopsided grin and clasped my hands together in front of myself, Seonghwa’s demeanor not as off putting as most guy’s—or like the other guy’s who just stood up from the table and started approaching us. I watched him, eyes falling on him involuntarily as there was something about him which demanded attention as he came awfully close to Seonghwa and I, towering over the both of us. Seonghwa was a tall guy too, but this third guy’s height seemed to loom even over him, but I didn’t let that affect me in any way as I looked up at him with a bored expression.

“Found another little fan of ours?” I gulped at the hear of his voice, which somehow matched his face, it was deep and slightly raspy, however, the tone he used rubbed me the wrong way. My eyes narrowed at him and before Seonghwa could answer him, I fired an answer his way.

“A fan of yours?” I chuckled drily, “You certainly can’t be as self-centered as to think every female around a mile radius would instantly throw themselves at you, no?”

A beat of silence followed before Seonghwa started snickering, hiding his mouth by his hand as the other guy’s eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t look pleased by my question and he leaned down to be at the same height as me, gaze boring into mine. When his face was blank, his eyes seemed to get sharper and it somehow made my heartbeat pick up, but I ignored it. It was just the adrenaline, the annoyance, probably which threatened to seep through my bloodstream sooner than later.

“And who are you again?” The guy’s voice was quieter, dropped lower as he tried to belittle me with his stupid question, but I just rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Don’t think I introduced myself to you before,” I snapped and the guy clicked his tongue, “Who are you, first of all?”

“You don’t know who I am?” His eyebrows suddenly furrowed as confusion washed over his face and for a second—but just that one little second—I thought the guy looked cute as his features softened.

“No, I don’t.” Him lowering himself allowed me to see whatever that was on his cheekbone better, and I could make out that it was some sort of logo, however, I have never seen it before, “And you have some dirt on your face.”

I pointed at my own cheekbone and Seonghwa’s sudden loud laughter alerted Seulgi and Wooyoung as they finally seemed to realize there were others around them, especially me, as Seulgi quickly stepped close and gripped my shoulder.

“That’s not dirt!” The man exclaimed and for someone with such a deep voice, his tone went incredibly high, “That’s my signature, bro.”

“Okay, bro, you’re self-centered, like I said—” Before I could really go off on this guy Seulgi gasped and laughed loudly, awkwardly, as I threw her a small glare.

“Aren’t you two hitting it off right the bat?!” She tried to diffuse the tension as Wooyoung chuckled, amused by the situation as Seonghwa was grinning too, “Y/N, this is Song Mingi, the bass player, singer, producer, lyricist, founder of Noir Zenith—be nice.”

The last part was only whispered to me and my eyebrows furrowed as I looked back at this guy, Mingi, who stood back up straight and threw a glare my way as I scoffed, shrugging my shoulders, “What a waste of talent on such personality.”

Seulgi’s eyes widened to saucers as Wooyoung inhaled loudly before breaking out into an ear-piercing laughter, making me wince, while Seonghwa had to cover his mouth again as he threw his head back and laughed.

“Y/N—that’s—” Seulgi stammered but I hushed her and smirked up at Mingi as he seemed lost for words for a second before his eyes hardened and he pulled his shoulders back, jaw clenching.

“What are you doing here if you don’t even fucking care about our band?” He hissed and for a second the viciousness in his tone took me off guard, but I didn’t let it show as I wrapped my arm around Seulgi’s shoulder and pulled her into my side. She looked mortified and tried speaking again, but I beat her to it—to my pleasure.

“My lovely friend, Seulgi, dragged me here because her and Wooyoung are friends, happy?” I felt Seulgi slightly relax in my grip, but she still subtly poked my side harshly, making me bite my lower lip to keep the groan of pain inside. Wooyoung had stopped laughing, thankfully, and was looking very amused as he punched Mingi’s arm weakly.

“I think you got a little bit humbled, dude.” He whispered loudly—probably on purpose—and Seonghwa giggled again as he quickly adjusted the front pieces of his hair.

“Why would anyone who doesn’t even listen to us come here?” Mingi muttered more to himself as he turned around and sauntered off towards the bar, throwing a glare every so often my way, making me giggle as I found it amusing. Poor dude, couldn’t handle a little humbling, but he definitely needs it.

“Y/N is a little bit—of a bitch—ow!” Seulgi hissed as she rubbed the spot on her arm where I had punched her, “You didn’t let me finish! She’s a bitch, but she’s my bestie and she doesn’t mean harm. I’m sure you guys will charm her by the end of the night.”

Charm me my ass. Maybe Seonghwa and Wooyoung, Mingi not—for sure. Not now or ever. Not that there will be another time and another chance for him to do so.

『It wasn't hard to realize love's the death of peace of mind

You're in the walls that I made with crosses and frames hanging upside down』

            The music coming through the speakers shook the little pub as I sat at the table the three boys have claimed as theirs earlier. Seulgi was by my side, but she was standing up, and she was jumping to the beat, somehow knowing the lyrics to the band’s newest song. I had a feeling Wooyoung had shown her already everything, but she did ask me not to tell Mingi—to whom now I could associate a face—and I had no desire to speak to him ever again, so she really had nothing to worry about. I couldn’t help but admit that they were good—not that I would ever say that out loud, especially not to Mingi—as the rock music blasted from the stage, purple and white lights illuminating the boys. Mingi stood in the center as he gripped his microphone, face scrunched up and the veins on his neck straining as his raspy voice involuntarily covered my skin in goosebumps.

『For granted, in vain, I took everything I ever cared about』

My fingers were tapping the rhythm of song, chin placed on my palm as I rested my hand on the table, watching each boy with curiosity. They all seemed to have different personalities and styles, yet up on the stage, they blended together and they worked well. Their voices complimented each other, where’s Mingi’s was raspy and low and harsh, Seonghwa’s seemed to be lighter and raspier, but then Wooyoung would jump in and his was powerful and high, and yet it still felt like a soft caress of a whisper at times. Their outfits, despite being so different, also made them look exquisite and gave the band a special and unique touch. As I glanced around I noticed how taken everyone seemed by their music, hanging onto every note they played as Seonghwa played the drums at the left side of the stage and Wooyoung the guitar to Mingi’s right.

『I miss the way you say my name

The way you bend, the way you break』

Mingi was gripping his microphone as his eyes were closed and nose scrunched up, eyebrows furrowing as the words slipped through his lips smoothly, his raspy voice soft and tender, like a steady but soft caress of your cheek, the light flutter of your eyelashes as if he was right by your side, whispering the words to you, trying to seduce you.

『Your makeup running down your face

The way you fuck, the way you taste』

Suddenly his eyes flew open and he looked out onto the crowd, locking his gaze with mine. I was about to grab the glass of water and take a sip, but I froze as a smirk slipped onto his lips, mixing in with his voice and very obviously making him sound smug. My jaw clenched just as the people, especially the girls in the front row, started cheering loudly, enjoying Noir Zenith’s performance. I tried to convince myself that I was just imagining things, but I could’ve sworn Mingi’s gaze remained on me and only me, singing the words from deep withing his chest, all kinds of emotions and feelings plastered over his face as he took his microphone out of its stand and started walking around the stage, crouching down and pointing at the girls close to the stage.

『When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive?

It wasn't hard to realize love's the death of peace of mind

When the curtains call the time, will we both be satisfied?

It wasn't hard to realize love's the death of peace of mind』

They played two more songs after their newest, the crowd going wild as they sang along and I could feel all those unslept nights catching up as my eyes threatened to shut closed at any given time. Seulgi noticed and grew concerned, but I reassured her that I was only tired and would head soon home if she didn’t mind. She insisted I wait at least until the boys finish their performance in order to not be seen rude as I have, probably, already offended them. Not that I would mind, even though Mingi is the only one who actually deserves it.

Once they got off the stage everyone was swarming around them, congratulating them and offering them drinks, and I watched as Seonghwa kindly turned down all of them, meanwhile Mingi carelessly accepted almost all as Wooyoung was pushing his way through the crowd, eager to get back to the table. His cheeks were flushed by the time he reached us and Seulgi sprung onto her feet and went to hug Wooyoung but suddenly paused, looking awkwardly at her feet, until Wooyoung went and pulled her into his embrace instead. Seulgi’s face lit up and she started animatedly talking, but I couldn’t hear as the crowd was loud. Seonghwa seemed to be nowhere as Mingi managed to make his way through the crowd and now was grinning smugly at me, one eyebrow crooked as I rolled my eyes, still not impressed at all by him. He said nothing as he sat down next to me and took a sip of his drink, eyes falling on me. I could see him staring at me from the corner of my eyes, but I ignored him, and instead reached for Seulgi’s jacket to get her car keys so that I could fetch my jacket before leaving. As I felt around her pocket I became aware of two people towering over me as they had stopped behind my chair. I turned my head around and raised my eyebrows at the two girls as they were giggling, waiting for Mingi to notice them. And when he did, that irritating smirk was back on his lips and he greeted the girls with a wide smile, biting his lower lip as they started praising him.

“Mingi you are so cool!” The brunette exclaimed, grinning at him, “I swear to God, this new outfit concept is so hot on you.”

If I could, I would’ve died from the second-hand embarrassment these two girls were giving me, but instead, I decided to stay just a for a little bit longer and see what nonsense they manage to sputter so that I can use it against Mingi later.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you singing so passionately like tonight, Mingi, the new song is so good I’m already obsessed with it.” The blonde chimed in fast, throwing a slight glare towards the brunette. I guess the friendship between them flies out the window the second they step closer to a relatively attractive male—not that Mingi is attractive or good looking.

“Ah, you two…you always know how to flatter me.” I possibly have thrown up a little bit in my mouth because of Mingi’s sultry voice and narrowed eyes—he partially looked like he was about to pass out and partially like he would inhale one of the girls, if not both.

“You so deserve it, Mingi!” The blonde quickly exclaimed and placed a hand on his bicep, “Who is your new song about?”

My breathing faltered for a second as Mingi glanced my way, but then I threw him a glare and rolled my eyes, realizing this was our first time meeting. Why did I even think for a little second that the song could’ve been about me? That sounded crazy, and now I felt crazy as I shook my head and downed the glass of water I have abandoned like half an hour ago.

“Someone who won’t leave your mind and makes you want to crawl up the wall, thoughts filled with them, desiring them like no one else before.” Mingi’s voice dropped a few octaves and I couldn’t help but look over as I smirked, abruptly standing up.

“Oh, girls, not to disappoint but he’s said that to like—three other girls before you two, and I don’t think that’s entirely what the song is about. Or maybe Seonghwa was talking about another song…” In fact, I have lied. Mingi hasn’t talked to anyone since he sat down to the table, but the lie was worth it, because the girls expressions dropped slightly, “You know men are usually more desperate to get laid than women, I suppose it makes them say all kinds of things, doesn’t it, Mingi?”

Mingi’s jaw clenched as the two girls looked unsure as they looked back at him, and he chose to laugh it off as if I have said the funniest joke on Earth, leaning slightly forward as he looked up at me, “I suppose someone wasn’t really paying attention tonight to our performance.”

“Right,” I hummed and stepped around my chair, “I prefer listening to real bands and good music, not to some wannabes wailing to a crowd of drunken and high as fuck university students—have a lovely night!”

I only caught the irritated huff of air Mingi let out as I headed towards the bar, where Seulgi and Wooyoung were talking to some people I didn’t know. I didn’t want to disturb them for long, but I had to tell Seulgi I was leaving and would get my jacket before going home.

『You come and go in waves

Leaving me in your wake』

            By the time I have gotten home it was very late and despite my body feeling tired, my brain was relentlessly swirling with thoughts and replaying tonight’s happenings, so after fifteen minutes of laying in bed and staring up at the dark ceiling I realized sleep wouldn’t come easy neither tonight. I sat up and turned on the lamp on my bedside table and grabbed my smaller and thicker sketchbook, flipping it open to an empty page. I sighed as I grabbed a pencil and pressed it against the paper softly, letting my wrist curve whichever way it wanted as I started doodling, humming to myself a melody which sounded slightly foreign yet somehow familiar. I knew I have heard it before, probably recently, but I couldn’t figure out just which song it was.

『You come and go in waves

Swallowing everything』

It didn’t take me long to have the outline of something, which was starting to look an awful lot like eyes staring back at me, and I continued tracing lines and shading in the spots where depth needed to be added. I licked my lips and narrowed my eyes as I pressed the pencil harder against the paper, tightening the frail lines and finalizing the quick drawing of the eyes. I extended my arm and stared at the eyes, which almost felt like they were glaring at me by how sharp its stare was, and my eyebrows furrowed as I realized the eyes looked nothing like Yunho’s. I couldn’t remember the last time when I drew anyone else that wasn’t Yunho and for some reason that scared me as my eyes bore into my drawing, my humming coming to an abrupt stop when I realized who’s song it was. Noir Zenith. And the drawing, the sharp and glaring eyes, were of Song Mingi’s. I gasped and without a second thought started scrawling at the drawing, heart racing and mind an awfully lot quiet. What was I thinking singing his song and drawing his eyes? But there it was, the answer, I wasn’t thinking. And I was sleep deprived. I needed to sleep, like right now. I threw my sketchbook to the floor and jumped back underneath my blanket, pulling it over my head as I screwed my eyes shut. Sleep, I must.

『Are you satisfied?

Love's the death of peace of mind

Mine

Mine』

❱❱ Next chapter

[ladykibutsuji]

I really loved that writer reader x upper moon

I was wondering if you could please do the Upper Moons x Tattooed Reader. I would love to see their reactions on the reader for having ink

Please and thank you uwu

“Tattoes"

> Tattoed!Reader x Uppermoons

> Headcanon: Reader decided to get a tattoo on her body, What would the uppermoons react to this?

> Hantengu and his 4 clones included!

> Normal Timeline

> Accepting Requests

|KOKUSHIBO|

- Before you could tell kokushibo about your new tattoo he noticed it first

- He started asking you questions

- "Is that a mark....on your body?"

- He would definitely be the type to mistake tattoos for a Demon slayer mark

- "no, it's just a tattoo.."

- Kokushibo doesn't know much about tattoos so you have to explain it to him

- Luckily, Kokushibo is a fast learner

- You also gave him a full view of your tattoo

- He traced the tattoo with his fingers observing it

- He only said 'It's nice' and doesn't say much after rather he shows it in actions that he finds your tattoo lovely

- He finds the tattoo on your body 'beautiful' and every time you are sleeping he would always trace it with his fingers while admiring it!

|DOUMA|

- You are currently finding douma just to tell him about your new tattoo

- After searching for a while you couldn't find him and thought that he is away for a mission but as you were about to go outside someone sneaks up behind you

- Back hug from douma

- "Where have you been Y/N?~ I've missed you"

- Just like kokushibo, before you could tell douma about your tattoo he noticed it first

- "And what's this on your body? Is that a scar?"

- "No it's not"

- You told him about your new tattoo and he seems invested in every detail that you told him

- You gave him a full view of your tattoo

- and of course He gave you a lot of praises

- "That's such a nice tattoo! It fits you perfectly my dear Y/N"

- Now he wants tattoo for himself

- Ever since that day, Douma would Brag to his cult members about his S/O having such beautiful art in her body

- Even though he thinks that you without or with tattoo is already art itself

|AKAZA|

- From the moment he saw your tattoo..BRO WAS FLABBERGASTED

- He started bombing you with questions like:

- "Are you okay?" "What happened?" "Did you got caught doing something?"

- For akaza's knowledge, Tattoos are a bad thing because for him tattoos are meant to represent the crimes you committed

- You had to calm him down and explain to him that your 'Tattooe' isn't meant to represent crime

- He was relieved that you are okay and just asked why do you need tattooes when your body is already perfect

- You just told him that you wanna try something new

- Of course akaza supported you on what you wanted to do with your life so he asked if he could take a full view at the tattoo

- You gave him a full view and he stared at it with admiration

- "It's beautiful, Just as beautiful as you"

- To be honest, Akaza feels happy that the both of you have tattoos

- The both of you decided to get matching tattoos

|HANTENGU|

+ CLONES

Hantengu:

- He would be worried at first

- "d-did so-something happened to y-your body?"

- he thought you got possessed lmao

- "No it's just a tattoo, I wanted to try something new though it was a little painful.."

- When he heard the word 'Painful' he got scared for you

- "i-if i-it's painful don't do it again! I-i don't want you to get hurt"

- He kept on asking if you are really okay later that day

- He really loves your tattoo though, he thinks it's pretty cool despise the process being a bit painful

Sekido:

- Mad

- Mad because he had to notice it first before you could tell him about him

- "Are you hiding things from me now!? What's on your body??"

- "Oh I'm sorry, I'm not hiding it from you I was just about to inform you"

- You showed Sekido a full view of your tattoo and he just stared at it

- He wouldn't admit it but he really thinks that your tattoo is captivating

- "So? That's all?"

- He was thinking about getting the same tattoo you have just so the both of you could match

Aizetsu:

- You already told him about your new tattoo and the painful process he listens to every details carefully

- "It saddens me that you have to go through that painful process...however your tattoo is gorgeous..so gorgeous it's making me want to cry"

- just like the others, of course he loves your tattoo

- But thinking about the painful process, he didn't know how to undo your pain so he just tried helping by cooking your favorite food for you

- He also cuddled you to bed thinking that it would help you ease up

- While cuddling in bed he would shower you with compliments about your new tattoo

Karaku:

- After explaining about your new tattoo to Karaku he was also interested in getting one

- "Your tattoo is so awesome it's making me jealous!"

- At the end of the day, the both of you decided to get matching tattoos

- he won't stop pestering you so you just agree with it

- Karaku would show off to the other clones about your and his 'Awesome' tattoos

- Sekido ended up yelling at him because he won't shut up

Urogi:

- You are still planning about your tattoo and is so deep in thoughts that Urogi noticed you drowning in your own thoughts

- "Are you okay Y/N? You can tell me everything"

- You wanted it to be a surprise at first but of course since urogi won't stop bombing you with questions you just gave in

- "I'm planning to get a tattoo"

- "can we eat it?"

- Idiot of course not

- You had to explain every details to him and have to repeat them TWICE just so he would understand

- He became curious of it and decided to come along with you on getting your new tattoo

- He ended up getting one for himself too

- After getting your tattoo he immediately grew a liking to it!

- "That's fire as hell! I'm gonna show the whole world that my princess is beautiful as fuck!"

- That night, he ended up flying you all around the place while screaming 'Take a look at my wifey'

|GYOKKO|

- After telling this dude about your tattoo and showing it to him he was speechless

- The fish was stunned

- He was quiet for a few minutes until you decided to ask him what's wrong

- "I'm sad because I could paint your body better but you choosed to go to someone else"

- "Tattoos and designing pots are a bit different"

- Now he's more sad

- Despite all that, he actually thinks that the tattoo looks good on you

- "It's pretty but I still think I can do better"

- 'do better' when all he does is admire your tattoos everytime you are sleeping or looking away

- his pride is too big for him to admit that someone did a great job on doing your tattoo

- "Tch, it's only good because it's on my beloved's skin"

|DAKI | GYUTARO|

- For daki since she's an oiran it's important for her to keep her skin healthy and for her knowledge 'skins' should be healthy and clean

- so she didn't understand why you decided get a tattoo on your precious skin

- the same goes for gyutaro aswell, he didn't understand to why would you want a tattoo since your skin was already perfect on itself

- However after taking a full view at your tattoo they were both mesmerized by how well the tattoo fits on you

- Daki would shower you with compliments!

- "your tattoo is so pretty Y/N, everything suits you so perfectly"

- As for gyutaro, he also does the same

- "how lovely...Now I'm also wanting to have one.."

- The siblings likes your tattoo and they would admire it every second

- Daki would show you off to everyone else saying you have such a pretty Tattoo

- if anyone says otherwise, gyutaro would kill them on spot

[fafnir19]

Genie's lamp - Part III

The proof of the pudding is in the eating

Despite being an apprentice of the dark arts now, Lex nevertheless chose to also continue his studies in economics. He couldn't eventually simply tell his parents and friends that he was abandoning his studies to pursue a career as a dark sorcerer.

So, one day he found himself in the dimly lit locker room of his college. The air heavy with the musky scent of sweat and testosterone, Lex dawdling finished changing after his PE class. His unbuttoned shirt and varsity jacket gave him the appearance of a typical college student. Unaware of his dark sorcery apprenticeship, his peers saw him as just another face in the crowd. As he was about to exit, a figure caught his eye — Ferris, the epitome of an alpha-male and captain of the college baseball team, sat stark naked on a bench while chugging water from a plastic bottle.

A smug grin etched on his face as he taunted Lex with words meant to provoke, "You've gained some confidence, huh? But remember, in this realm, I'm the man!" Ignoring the jabs at first, Lex's expression turned stoic as Ferris' taunts grew more explicit. "We both know your confidence is a front, fag. You want to kneel and worship a real man like me, don't you?" Ferris jeered, his voice dripping with arrogance. Without a word, Lex knelt down before the naked jock, his actions defying logic and expectation.

The unexpected move caught the baseball captain off guard, his alpha facade momentarily faltering as Lex's tongue traced a path along his inner thighs. Confusion mingled with an unexpected rush of … pleasure?! Normally, Ferris would have yelled at Lex to stop this 'gay shit'. However, the sensation of being licked, worshipped, held an intoxicating allure that Ferris couldn't defy. Moving with purpose, Lex's explorative tongue ventured further, grazing over Ferris' sensitive skin until he reached his balls. A maddening pressure built within Ferris' balls, intensifying with each flick of Lex's skilled tongue. And then, in a burst of ecstasy and confusion, Ferris climaxed, his cum erupting onto his stomach in a messy release. But as the white liquid pooled on his skin, a strange transformation began to take place. His balls, once so full and heavy, began to shrink, deflating like a balloon losing air until they were no more. Ferris blinked in astonishment, his hand instinctively reaching down to where his testicles should have been. But instead, there was nothing but smooth skin, a void where his masculinity once resided. Instead of the rage and indignation one might expect, a peculiar calm settled over Ferris.

Lex, unfazed by the sudden turn of events, dipped his finger into the sticky mess on Ferris' stomach, bringing it to his lips in a brazen display of dominance and tasting it with a wicked grin. "Your offsprings, which will never be born, are really delicious, Ferris!" His words dripped with a dark amusement, relishing in the power he wielded over the once-proud alpha. Awaiting a violent outburst that never came, Lex chuckled to himself, a cold calculation in his eyes. "Interesting how a man's demeanor changes once his manhood is taken away," he remarked to himself and mused with twisted satisfaction "Ah, the wonders of eunuchs - calm and loyal, just as Jafar told." Now Lex towered over Ferris, his commanding presence casting a shadow over the former alpha-male. "Eunuch, into the bottle with you, where you will transform into my guard!"

The once proud and arrogant jock watched in disbelief as he and his gym bag dissolved into a swirling mist, vanishing into the drinking bottle he had held moments ago.

Within the bottle, a transformation unlike any other began to take place. His pants, neatly folded within his gym bag, dissolved into a shimmering ribbon that slithered out, curling around his legs with an eerie precision. "Wh...what's happening to me?" Ferris stammered, feeling the strange sensation of the ribbon wrapping around his lower body. The sensation of the soft fabric against his skin should have elicited a familiar thrill, but this time, there was no spark of arousal - and there will never be again. The ribbon continued its ascent, molding into intricate harem pants that adorned his muscular frame with an otherworldly grace.

Not far behind, his hoody burst out of the gym bag, its sleeves and hood fading into oblivion, leaving behind a sleek vest that fluttered gracefully towards Ferris. The vest draped itself upon him, embracing his form with an air of mystique. Finally, his cherished baseball bat shimmered and shifted, transmuting into a gleaming saber that now rested at his side. The transformation was disorienting yet strangely exhilarating. Feeling a surge of loyalty towards his master, Lex, Ferris was overcome with a newfound purpose - to protect and serve the enigmatic sorcerer prince at all costs. His thoughts and desires now aligned with Lex's will, his former sense of self fading into obscurity. With a sense of calm acceptance, Ferris accepted his fate as a devoted guardian to the one who had wielded such power over him.

With an air of nonchalance, Lex tucked the bottle into his backpack, a smirk playing on his lips. Without a second glance, he sauntered out of the locker room, heading to his next lecture.

As evening fell, Lex proudly presented the bottle to Jafar, anticipation dancing in his eyes. However, Jafar's reaction was not what he expected. The genie's gaze darkened, a frown creasing his brow. "You still have much to learn," Jafar's voice rumbled disapprovingly. Lex's confidence faltered, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

Jafar's next words cut through the air like a knife. "A cheap plastic bottle? It seems like you snagged your slave from the discount bin of a dollar shop. We must refine your sense of style, my apprentice." Lex couldn't help but chuckle at the unexpected critique, acknowledging Jafar's point with a shrug, "Fair point, Master."

And so, under Jafar's guidance, Lex's journey as a sorcerer prince continued, his magical prowess growing with each lesson learned, all while striving to match the genie's impeccable standards of sophistication and flair.

[fantasyfantasygames]

Circles of Heaven

Circles of Heaven, Eustace Selden, 1998

Circles of Heaven (CoH) started off as a hard rebound against the Satanic Panic - by an evangelical kid. The goal was to make an RPG that would be considered holy. This... did not happen.

The author did his first writing when he was 14, which beats me by a year. Unlike me, he was raised in... well, a cult. The first version of CoH was about playing angels, but it was also full of proto-quiverfull eschatological heaven-justifies-the-means propaganda. By the time he was 17, his friends had successfully pulled him out of the cult and gotten him living with distant relatives in Tacoma. The author's changing worldview, the evolving music scene, some bootleg anime, and suggestions from the same friends - seriously, this friend group is fantastic - led to a major revision of the game. It was published locally in 1998, printed by a local shop and driven around to game stores and bookstores until they found some that would sell it.

Chargen is mostly random. You pick your Nobility and Corpus. Nobility is your rank, which doesn't let you order each other around but does apply to certain creatures. For example, Archdukes can give orders to insects; a Prince or Princess of Heaven can give orders to mammals (except humans). You get some alliterative skills related to your type of creature - Archdukes get bonuses to Clandestine, Collective, and Contaminate.

Corpus is your body, and I think it's a particularly fun part of the game. Characters in CoH are angels. They're not traditional biblical angels, because the bible is secretly the work of Satan - full of half-truths more dangerous than outright lies. Instead, they're inspired by the weirdest of monsters: adlets, nuckelavee, ouroboros, futakuchi-onna, penanggalan, and a several others. You are both a human being and your monster self at the same time. You can do things that either form could do, or even things that would need both a monster and a human in the same place at the same time, and it doesn't have to make sense to see.

You roll for your Hunt (the kind of people you're here on Earth to help or punish, gives skill bonuses), your Time (the hour each day where you have extra-special powers), your Vision (how you think the world could be made ideal, gives you more skill bonuses), and your Ruling Virtues. Oh, and your attributes. Those are done on a 5-15 scale generated from a d100 table. I did say this game was written in the early 90s.

You also roll for your equipment. Not boring mortal stuff, but for a wide variety of sacred items that you hold in potentia near you and can manifest at need. Shields of fire. Shadow citadels that can hide you overnight. Flocks of stained-glass butterflies that provide cover and distracting fascination. Daybreak, the mace made of pure sunlight. Nullblades that wield themselves and absorb bullets and magic alike. Fatehook, a crochet hook that can re-knot the fabric of the world - slow to use but flexible and devastating.

The system is mediocre. It's basically a heavily-stripped-down Rolemaster, with no critical hits or spell lists. If you can't come up with anything from Rolemaster that isn't the critical hits table, you're not alone. CoH's system sort of slid into my brain and slid right back out without making an impression.

The place the game is really lacking is art. Most of it is from early otaku who loved anime but had never taken an art class. The best of it turned out to be traced from manga. The cover was a black-and-white ouroboros on a white background, which, while still not particularly well-drawn, was at least striking on the shelf.

Eustace eventually moved on. In an interview in 2012 he said that writing the game was a cathartic experience for him, helping him understand where he came from and embrace where he was going. Once it was out, he didn't feel the need to keep writing. I hope he finds a creative spark again some day - I think a shorter version (with better art) would fit well with games like Mörk Borg and Songbirds.

[smehur]

Lost scenes/fics game!

Thank you for tagging me, @tigerlyla-of-metinna! Here are the rules:

We all probably have them, those scenes that never made it to the story, the stories that never went anywhere, all those small and larger bits of love we wrote and still hoard on out hard drives. So now - let's share!

The rules are simple:

1. Share a piece of fic that you cut out for some reason, or a piece of a fic that you began and never continued, some lost piece of your writing, be it long or short, prose or verse. Unfinished Art and Illustrations are also welcome.

2. Tag five or more people who might want to share a piece of their writing or art. Specific questions are welcome, but don't need to be adhered to.

3. Be kind. Let's spread positivity. Show support for your fellow artists and writers. Laughing along is great, mocking is not welcome.

4. Tagging someone back is totally fine, if the person doesn't want to share anything else, or anything at all, for that matter, that's fine too.

What follows is a scene I cut from my Mass Effect story, The Precedent. This was written long enough ago that I have no memory whatsoever of writing (or cutting) it, and I can't say, off the top of my head, why it got cut -- likely because it was going to make an already complicated situation even more complicated for no particular gain.

Anyway:

But Saren wasn’t done with the examination. He covered Elethea’s upper body and uncovered her right leg instead. “There’s another problem. Hold her knee up.”

Her skin was clammy, the flesh under it squishy. Nothing like medigel to remove any trace of tone from the muscles. They struggled a bit to plant the foot on the bed with the knee bent above. Apparently, there was something under the skin on the back of her calf.

“She has a—” Saren glanced at the girl. “An emergency termination chip.”

Nihlus silently repeated the unfamiliar phrase. Emergency termination… of what? “You don’t mean, like—” he soundlessly mouthed the words “—a suicide chip?”

“Yes. We have to get it out.”

“That’s insane. Saren—” his options for gesturing were limited and Saren was refusing to look at him, busy trying to get a reading from the back of Elethea’s leg with a small hand-held scanner. “We have neither the skills nor the tools. What if we trigger it?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, it’s risky.” His patience was wearing thin, Nihlus could hear it in the rasp of his voice.

But so was his own. “So, let’s get her to a hospital?”

“You think they have better ‘skills and tools’—for this? It’s exactly why I didn’t want you to take her to a hospital.”

Nihlus had to admit, however begrudgingly, that Saren had a point there. Suicide chips weren’t exactly an item on the standard medical curriculum. Like most illegal micro-cybernetics, they usually came with a reflective coating that could hide them from generic scanners, but a full-body medical scan would probably reveal it. Any attempt to tamper with it, without disabling it first, would trigger the release of a deadly neurotoxin into the user’s tissue, causing nearly instant death. And depending on the settings, even aggressive scanning might be taken as “tampering”.

Nihlus had seen it happen. He had lost a priceless source in a batarian slaving ring to a suicide chip triggered by a Citadel customs scanner. His guy had been picked up from the line of arrivals because it looked like he could be wearing a weapon under his baggy jacket. The real reason, Nihlus suspected, was that he was batarian; the C-Sec was notorious for exercising their limited power on minorities, especially those with a bad rep. When the normal weapons scanner failed to confirm their theory, they put the guy through the high-power one used to uncover illegal cybernetics. Nihlus had arrived just in time to see the guy convulse on the floor.

“You don’t have its command frequency?”

“It’s activated with biotics. Only she can disable it.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck!” the girl echoed.

Nihlus ignored her. Mention of biotics gave him an idea. “Can you… put a stasis field around it?”

“Perhaps. But what then?”

“Then I fry it with a laser.”

Saren put the scanner down, staring past Nihlus as he considered it.

“Would that even work? The laser, I mean, inside a stasis field. Does it… arrest… the light too?”

“Shut up and let me think.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tagging: @anjian, @ghostpeppercalamari, @kuraiummei, @bronzeagelove, @oathbreakerapologist

[mushroomnoodles]

So Simon is just gone just like that!? That must've been horrible Morri to see when he woke up!😢 like imagine saying goodnight to your dad and thinking what you'll do the next day together and he's just...gone. And how did Marceline react to Simon's death and Morri now down a parent?

tw parental death, grief, angst in general, god kid is raising themself

churning out some of these questions that i wanna answer with no art, mostly because i want people to know what happened/my thoughts even if i don't feel like drawing or don't have time to.

it was absolutely horrible for little 13 year old (250 year old) morrigan! they were very distraught and confused, because simon didn't even age or give them a warning. a thing they won't forget is the coffee machine was still on, with a full pot.

the emotional devastation sorta kickstarted their dormant god powers, and when they were silently trying to preserve simon's body (they didn't want him to rot, they wanted him to stay with them forever) they initially turned him to stone. morri has been highly intelligent since conception, so they don't exactly think like a teenager, more like a naive adult i'd say, but they're also still a child if that makes sense? they want their papa, they feel safe around him, they love him.

after their initial bewilderment they realized they could sort of force his body into whatever they wanted (remembering those long past memories of grasping for things with their powers while simon was still carrying them, changing those objects and hearing simon react to it) and turned his corpse into a crown that they could hold onto.

they couldn't really bear to be in the house, and they just wanted their dad back, so they simply left with some stuff they thought they'd need (they did want to be an adventurer when they were younger, so they had a loose idea of what to take).

when their judgement wasn't so clouded by leave me alone, my dad is dead, they were afraid pb would do things like she did when they were still in the womb without simon to protect them and also feared that they would be suspected for simon's death due to their. uh. nature. and they didn't want to tell marceline.

morri chose to navigate their puberty alone (and it was such an itchy one, growing spikes and claws) and when more powers came in (portals to other parts of the world, portals to other universes, floating) with no stable guide of their own they took to.. less than healthy coping mechanisms when they found bringing their dad back to life was going to be a lot harder than anticipated. every now and then, they'd hear of marceline looking for them, and they'd avoid her, ever so determined to "fix" things so they could go back to normal and their family would be fine.

morri did have a few on and off parental figures, especially when they were younger- kind strangers looking out for them for a bit before they scampered off again.

marcy, by the way, was having an equally terrible time. from her point of view, simon and morrigan both up and disappeared without a trace. why? how? she couldn't find simon, and with morrigan's inability to be physically documented, it was very difficult to pinpoint where her little sibling went. at first she thought GOLB had something to do with it, and sort of still does. but the thought that simon has died has crossed her mind many a time.

marcy is a bit harder for me to characterize so i think i'll leave it there for her.

[neptuniadoesstuff]

JJ's Official Ref Sheet

(TW/CW: Can/might contain some scars on body on the full body pics)

This is the common ref of JJ. (Aka his average everyday clothing)

& here is some clothing alts. (Aka his not so everyday outfits)

His Event (Left) & Work (Right) outfits.

Don't ask why the outfit on the right has weird hair, this is how he gets his hair out of his face to look "professional" bcs he's a scientist/biologists working at a lab. (The stains on the gloves are of course optional. That's just some fluid that's deff wasn't from a ded serpent god's body which was then outlawed due to a war until it was reopen for research again as long yur doing it right-)

Now I have to warn you... I am going to show you the full body pics, while yes show him kinda naked, it's not sus as it's meant to show off the scars he has. I don't normally do this at all, so if I get murked for this... you know what happened to me.

(These full-body refs contain many scars. If you haven't read the first warning yet, here's another reminder as these scars are that of səlf hæřm wounds during his teen years. If you don't want to see the scars plz click off...)

The full-body refs. (Including a alt where his hair isn't in his face like it normally is.)

Yeh uh... this is what he looks like w/o the clothes.. he has a lot of scars..

Imma make a extra thing about him n stuff like drawing his tail & what it looks like with his tail + other random stuff. (Might contain some gøřə so if u don't like that stuff I suggest not clicking it when I post it)

Anyways hope yall can enjoy this Lil goofy ref of my little idiot from Florida (who has many problems but honestly this man doesn't go to frikin therapy LIKE A NORMAL PERSON WOULD!), this took me like... days... & I finally was able to finish it. So yay :')

Btw if you want uh.... you can read his info here.

(Do have to warn you, it does contain heavy topics like SA, Səłf ĥæřm, & family death... so if you're by any chnace uncomfortable/triggered by these topics... I suggest not reading his info all together)

ANYWAYS CREDITS-

Character: JJ Sam Green (June-Jin Sameul Greenlocke) (My little goober who's also my Mascot)

Art: Mine.

Program: IbisPaint x

Bubs' TOS: Plz don't repost/steal, trace, or recolor my art WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! If you do, I'll take yur femur and pelvis.. SO, DON'T THINK ABOUT IT! (The PNS on my Blog's pinned project clearly means "Please No Steal" plz follow that rule.) If you do post my art on anything like yur blog or somewhere else (With my permission) PEASE CREDIT ME!

[satoshi-mochida]

GINKA coming to Switch on September 19

From Gematsu

Publisher Bushiroad Games and developer Frontwing will release visual novel GINKA for Switch on September 19, the companies announced.

The standard edition will be priced at 3,520 yen, the limited edition at 13,200 yen, and the limited edition with body pillow cover at 27,500 yen. The limited edition includes a B2-size tapestry, visual book, acrylic key holder, and a soundtrack CD featuring background music from the game, as well as the full opening and ending theme songs. The limited edition with body pillow cover adds a Ginka body pillow cover, and a “lying down with Ginka (voiced by Ikumi Hasegawa)” voice CD. The physical editions will also be available for PC.

GINKA first launched for PC via Steam on October 26, 2023.

Here is an overview of the game, via its Steam page:

About

GINKA, Frontwing’s latest visual novel, is brought to you by a talented creative team that includes Asta Konno and Yusano, the duo behind ATRI: My Dear Moments.

Planning / Story: Konno Asta

Art / Character Design: Yusano

Character Design: Akio Watanabe

SD Artwork: Nanaca Mai

Background Music: Fuminori Matsumoto

Cast

Ginka: Ikumi Hasegawa

Opening Theme

Title: “Star Trail”

Vocals: Shinomiya Ginka (Voiced by Ikumi Hasegawa)

Composition and Arrangement: Fuminori Matsumoto

Lyrics: Konno Asta

Story

Five years ago, Aoba Ryusei’s childhood friend, Shinomiya Ginka, disappeared without a trace on the night of the summer festival. The superstitious islanders believed this to be an act of God, saying that she was “spirited away.” Now in high school, Ryusei decides to visit the island over summer break. He needs to know: Did Ginka ever come back? Could she be living a normal high school life? Sadly, his faint hopes are crushed when he learns that Ginka was never seen again after that night. He dejectedly prepares to depart, but then he meets a young girl who looks exactly like his missing childhood friend― Ginka. “Welcome back, Ryusei.” The girl doesn’t know her own name. All she knows is that she loves Ryusei. Where has she been? Why hasn’t she aged? Finally reunited with his long lost friend, Ryusei vows to have the best summer vacation ever on the tranquil little island of his childhood.

[rubykgrant]

Some of my favorite sketchy pictures I've done on lined notebook paper~

Sometimes it helps to draw like this, because there's less pressure to make the picture look perfect, on a brand-new sheet of blank paper... I can just sketch out something like when I was scribbling around during class haha. If something looks good, I will either polish up the sketch as it is, or occasionally trace-over the sketch and finish it on new paper.

From the top, left to right; my own character designs of April O'Neil and Karai from TMNT (a mix of all my favorite versions of them), a design of a fairy/elf creature (my idea if "Puck" was a fantasy species and not just one specific character. I colored this in by blending almost-dry markers and mixing colored pencil shavings with water to make "paint"), the way I imagine the 3 main characters from the book Doll Bones (I like when I can draw characters in profile, and really show they they all have different noses, mouths, chins/jaw-lines, etc), a sequence sketch from my Beetlejuice Sequel story (this is Lydia's daughter- Luna, having her own mis-adventure with Beetlejuice. they're riding a bus in between Limbo areas of the afterlife, and he falls asleep. Luna would rather NOT be crushed by the personification of a hefty bag full of fast-food garbage and decomposing mulch), a cute idea I had about Goku feeling baby Gohan kick for the first time while Chi-Chi was pregnant... followed by him embarrassing soon-to-be-dad Gohan many years later by loudly announcing he knows where babies come from, an idea I had about what the Alpha AI would look like without the program to be similar to a soldier (keep in mind, this isn't Alpha when he first formed, this is Church returning in an entirely new way that he's never experienced before), my Jack and Sally kid Danny (a pumpkin that grew into a little ragdoll body, brought to life with electricity, so the "stem" is his "neck", with his limbs having a similar texture to wood), my actual normal human designs for Gir and Zim (they would regular kids with Dib being the opposing invader. Zim has no idea Dib is an alien, he just hates the new kid and is only good at being annoying), some concept art about my story idea where everybody has a "shoulder angel" and "shoulder demon" that are personified as little chibi characters who help their person with cool anime powers (the angels can sometimes be cruel, while the demons are occasionally more caring. it all depends on the person they are part of. also, they aren't literal angels or demons, it's just ironic imagery), a sketch I did of Moon Stone Eugene (Blugene) and what it might be like if he had long blue hair, and my designs for gijinkas of my Pokemon from Yellow Version (Sparky the Pikachu, Shellshock the Squirtle, Charmer the Charmander, and Bough the Bulbasaur)

[royal-they]

hi so i kinda happened to fall in love with your art.....and i wanted to ask a few things!!! (if its ok!)

uhmm first of all how long did it take you to get that art style and perfection it etc etc?

also do you have any tips for anatomy? not big complex full body anatomy, just like...idrk honestly, some tips related to anatomy or hands or just the body that helped/help you?

and uh yeah if you just have any general tips on whatever to improve my art/art style i'll take litterally anything 😭

again, i love your art, i love what you make! keep doing what you do, you're awesome!!!! sending love and support <3

ah!! tysm <333!! thats so cool to hear!!!!!!!!!/gen

ive been drawing forever honestly. i've always been really into it. im fifteen so thatd be like 12 years. and obviously i wasnt always studying it super seriously or anything. idk. my art isnt perfect by any means. i just dont really post the shitty pieces lmao. i struggle with sm stuff and will be continuing to study probably till the day i cant hold a pencil anymore lol. (i draw too much, my hand hurts ;w;) its a never ending process and honestly thats why i love it sm.

as for anatomy i think the main thing to keep in mind is that anatomy and just drawing people in general is really hard. i heard this in this old video about how pixar used to do 3d animation is that the reason they didnt do animations of humans for so long is because we ourselves have very specefic ideas of what a human looks like. i think this also applies to art. which is a really long way of saying, trust the process.

i use photos personally! you can find a lot on pinterest but there are a couple things id keep in mind when it comes to photos people edit their bodies sometimes so their proportions so be careful, it will defeat the purpose of the study if the bodies inaccurate.

idk here are some that might be good for starting off. dancers and people like that are super helpful. remember to not to focus too much on the lines but more copying down the shapes,

for hands i would just look at your own hands and try to capture them quickly. i say quickly mainly bc i shake a lot lmao, maybe youre different. or you could just be smart and take a picture of your hand but im very lazy and dont like getting up to grab my phone.

for art style id just save stuff that inspire you. could be animations, comics, album covers, cool photos, just stuff that gives you like vibes. literally ANYTHING.

like, omg this is making me think of a cool idea rn!! save it! even if you cant execute it now you can always execute it in the future when your skills are more developed :)

style studies are also helpful! try copying art you like, seeing different peoples techniques however some things to keep in mind with this are

you might accidently copy down an artists mistakes or bad habits without realizing it so try to have some variety in your artists

dont post the art. some people are okay with tracing but the vast majority of artists dont like it and it makes them uncomfortable. so id just like keep it in your sketchbook or whatever :) better safe than sorry.

anyway ah this is so longgggg! sry im so bad at being concise lol. theres probably a lot of youtube videos that could help you with this stuff if you want more explanation. the channel ive been watching a lot in since this summer is sketches of shay. she makes a variety of stuff but her art studies and resources are also very helpful :)

Sketches of Shay - YouTube

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this Week #106 (Week 2 of year 3):

“Three great abstract artists died in 1944: Wassily Kandinsky, Piet Mondrian and Hilma von Klint”.

Even though it’s only the second week of January, I already discovered one of my favorite documentaries of 2023: Beyond The Visible - Hilma af Klint. Like Vivian Maier, Hilma was a female genius who lived in obscurity her whole life and left behind a body of work that equals and surpasses most of her contemporaries. Discovered 70 years after her death, she is now considered perhaps Sweden’s most important artist - ever. This astounding biography details her groundbreaking legacy, as well as her extraordinary life. The first abstract artist of the modern area, all her 2,500 painting and voluminous notebooks of 250,000 pages miraculously remained intact. She was also a mystic, a spiritualist, a feminist and a vegetarian. Until our age, history was busy erasing all traces of female participation from its re-telling. Hers is one happy reversal.(Slideshow Above).

I saw an exhibition of her large canvases at the Tel Aviv Museum in 2019 and they were awe-inspiring. 10/10. 

🍿

High maintenance, another biographical documentary. About the great Israeli sculptor and environmental artist Dani Karavan, known for his large site-specific monuments. It followed him around before his death at 90, as he travels to some European locations of his earlier, magnificent memorials, and as he re-assess his art. An uncompromising and head-strong artist with angry political views who had no patience for fools or fascists. He was also dealing with declining acuity and memory loss during that time. With Wim Wenders. The opening scene. 7/10.

🍿

Hit the road, an unforgettable Iranian road movie written and directed by Panah Panahi, Jafar Panahi’s son, in his feature debut. There are four people driving, but we don’t know who they are or where they are going and why. One of them is a precarious six-year old, the driver does not speak much, and the parents behave strangely. Slowly we discover more about them, but the background story goes unexplained.

It’s best to watch this without knowing more. By the heartbreaking end we are completely captivated. The trailer discloses too much.

The acting of the little boy is probably one of the best child acting I’ve ever seen. 9/10 - Best film of the week.

🍿 

"...Even with my eyes wide open, I can't see anything..."

Zaitochi is a traveling blind swordsman, one of Japan’s longest film series. The Blind Swordsman: Zatoichi (2003) is my first Zaitochi film, and my third by actor-director Takeshi Kitano. A tribute to the Samurai films of the 60′s, it is full of rivers of blood spraying all over whenever somebody is stabbed and killed, which is all the time. Also, including a subplot of a cross-dressing, maybe trans, geisha. It ends with a joyful and lengthy community tap dancing party.

🍿

First watch: “Tony, do you ever think about death? - Fuck off!”

The coming of age British Billy Elliot about an 11-year-old coal miner’s son who discovers that he loves ballet. A period piece about class, grief & masculinity. The boy who play Billy was wonderful. 9/10.

🍿

Another first watch: Before Sunrise, the first part of Richard Linklater’s ‘Before Trilogy’. A romantic story of two young people who meet on a train bound for Vienna. An interesting, minimalist concept that I didn’t love, because I couldn’t feel the connection between immature cynic Ethan Hawke and stereotypical-‘sweet’ French blond Julie Delpy. I wish they were played by other people. I will watch an updated version of this with more persuasive actors. Should I watch the other two parts?

🍿

2 by Zhang Yimou:

🍿 Raise the red lantern, the epic saga from the Chinese Warlord Era, tells a tragic story of a young ‘fourth Mistress’ to a very wealthy patriarch. The magnificent Gong Li and the other three concubines cannot leave the palace. They must wait each in their own opulent quarters until the master of the house (whose face is never seen) calls on the one he chooses to spend the night with. Restrained, tradition-bound and transgressive. 8/10. 

🍿 So I wanted to revisit a couple more of Yimou’s masterpieces, ‘Red Sorghum’, or ‘Qiu Ju’ or ‘To live’. Unfortunately, I picked instead his first English-language film The Great Wall, thinking, well, it was co-written by Tony Gilroy, it co-starred Andy Lau and Willem Dafoe, it was the most expensive Chinese movie ever produced, Etc. But it was a horrible disappointment. It’s a weak cartoon fantasy for young males about two mercenary amigos fighting an army of millions CGI alien monsters. Part of the trend to create spectacular Hollywood blockbusters which cater to the Chinese marketplace, the movie made $335 million and still lost money. 1/10 piece of shit. That’s why I don’t like and don’t watch special effect action movies.

🍿

2 by Ernst Lubitsch:

🍿 “Pure hooey!…”

Design for Living, a pre-code screwball comedy about - let’s face it - an explicit a ménage à trois between bohemian Gary Cooper, Fredric March, and Miriam Hopkins. That Hopkins was a modern, open-minded woman who wants to love and have sex with both men was a rarity and a delight.

🍿 His classic romantic comedy The shop around the corner, the original concept used later in ‘You’ve got mail’. It’s interesting how much appeal was there in Hollywood of that time to wax nostalgic about Austro-Hungarian life, and the reverence toward the class of the shopkeeper, aka, business owner .

🍿

Miss April ("Fröken April”), a lighter-than-air Swedish comedy from 1958 directed not by Ingmar Bergman but by one Göran Gentele. It features some venerable actors like Jan Kulle, Per Oscarsson and especially Gunnar Björnstrand who stars as an aristocratic, stuffy older banker (who, let’s face it, never “been in love” i.e. “never had sex”) and who falls for a cute, young ballet dancer. Silly & childish, and as enjoyable as a trip down memory lane to a sunny world that doesn’t exist any more. 7/10.

🍿 

2 with Gregory Peck, Robert Mitchum and Martin Balsam:

🍿 The original Hitchcockian 1962 Cape fear, with a sinister score by Bernard Herrmann. An uncomfortable story of threat and terror. The word “rape” and the act itself were not explicitly seen, but strongly felt as the middle class fear that a crazed psychotic sexual stalker is coming for our young daughters. 5/10.

🍿 Rabid Martin Scorsese made the 1991 Cape Fear remake more menacing, his buff, tattooed rapist Max Cady more maniacal and the whole story much more sadistic. The best element for me was the re-done score, and the anti-lawyers message. 4/10.

🍿

Assholes: A Theory, a Canadian documentary film, based on a book by professor of philosophy Aaron James. An asshole "allows himself to enjoy special advantages in social relations out of an entrenched sense of entitlement that immunizes him against the complaints of other people." Even though it was made in 2019, and touched upon many political, sociological & psychological trends, it didn’t mention even once the biggest asshole of them all.

🍿

The Matador, an unconvincing crime thriller starring Pierce Brosnan and Greg Kinnear. An unlikely friendship between two vastly different men, a milquetoast middle-class salesman and a burnt-out assassin who meet at a hotel bar in Mexico City. A male fantasy of what a life of a contract hit man is. 4/10.

🍿

4 Vimeo-type Shorts:

🍿 In Ruby, an elderly Irish couple, Len and Ruby, celebrate their 40th anniversary. Len has a history of of odd and outlandish gifts. Ruby hopes that this year will be different and that he'll arrange something "nice and normal".

🍿Sister, a different, Oscar-Nominated Stop-Motion Animation by young Chinese director Siqi Song. About being a single child. The figures are made out of wool.

🍿 “If Tuvsho was a superhero, this would be her origin story." I Am Tuvsho, a short Mongolian documentary about a female sumo wrestler.

🍿 School Portrait, Directed by Nick Scott, about a school photographer in a bad mood.

🍿

Bobcat Goldthwait’s satirical indie World's Greatest Dad started well but ended in a mess. Robin Williams is an amateur novelist with a rotten teenager son. But then this sex-obsessed, nasty kid auto-asphyxiate while masturbating, and father covers it up as a ‘regular’ suicide. What a perverted premise. Too bad it didn’t work. 3/10

🍿

After discovering Coraline last week, I decided to watch the parody of it on The Simpsons’ Treehouse of Horror XXVIII (29S 4E). Somehow edgy (because of Halloween?...). Including similar parodies of The Exorcist, Sausage party, and self-cannibalism trops. Alrighty then!

🍿  

Throw-back to the art project:

Chinese princess (还珠格格 HuanZhuGeGe) Adora

🍿

(My complete movie list is here)

[j-graysonlibrary]

The Xiang Chronicles: Book Three Chapter 16

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Three

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 107k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: Only one Xiang remains and her name is Merra. She hopes to unite the land by force and plow down anyone in her way—especially the people of Agni who she deems faithless and the native people of Terra who refuse to cooperate with her.

Raine continues to serve his Lord but he has taken to alcoholism to soothe his grief—a fact he keeps out of his letters with Heidi. Baiya has returned to mercenary work in order to keep his family safe while Kira is on the warpath. He, fully, takes on the title of Chaaya and means to defeat the Xiang he sees as false.

And, in a guarded castle in Enlil, a stir-crazy Princess dabbles in the dark arts, setting in motion something even Tiandi cannot see.

Full chapter 16 under the cut

Chapter XVI:

All that could be seen of the man were his hands—pale and boney with long, clean fingernails. Pangu stared at those hands often during training. If not his hands then he would try to lean closer to see what was under the hood but, no matter the lighting or angle, it was still just a black abyss.

It was, without a doubt, some form of magic.

Curiosity ate at him but, most days, Pangu was a silent and attentive student. He had been progressing fast so, whoever “Cuad” was, he clearly had a lot of experience with this sort of thing.

Pangu rested his hands over his and closed his eyes. They would always start and end lessons with an internal check on his energy. Pangu could now see, with his mind’s eye, where all of his energy was stored and how it flowed from one point to the next. There were larger congregations, where energy was mainly pooled, and he learned a lot about how it could affect his health.

Some people who had blockages in particular points could become ill because of it. The large point in the stomach, just around where the intestines were, would, of course, cause stomach and indigestion problems if it faced a block. The hands and feet were also major points and those blocks could lead to pain, arthritis, weakness, and even loss of motor function.

Then, of course, the major point of energy in the head could, if blocked, lead to mental illness. Although, when Pangu was told that, he had a lot of concern about the crown point, just an inch or two above it.

In all people except for the Xiang and their chosen disciples, the crown was meant to stay blocked, thereby cutting off energy from the cosmos.

“A healthy flow can still circulate with that one blocked,” Cuad insisted, though he did not sound especially sure of himself.

Pangu traced over the area in his mind. His, naturally, was open and the steady flow both through his body and outside of it felt weightless—it felt right. He was not sure he knew what it felt like to have that first point blocked but he suspected it was stifling.

“Would people not be at more risk for mental disease then? At least an issue with their moods?”

“Perhaps they might suffer from close-minded-ness…if you will excuse the pun.”

Pangu snickered but he did see how that could be the case in a more figurative sense as well. He ran another lap, mentally, through his body, making sure everything was smooth and in working order. Since learning with Cuad, he had found a couple of neglected areas but had worked through them and there had not been a blockage in a week or so.

“Do you think maybe humans would be healthier, over all, if they had that last block removed?” Pangu questioned and opened his eyes. He really wished he could look his teacher in the eyes while they spoke but he had to make do with staring into a void instead.

“In a way, possibly,” Cuad said and nodded, “But Tiandi believes that sort of power is too great for the average person. That is why he chooses one person, only in dire situations, to bestow that power and responsibility onto. And then, that person may choose four others.”

“Had I done that then…?” Pangu’s voice tapered off as he tried to remember.

Having Cuad around had spurred in him an even greater need to recover his memories. It had been an inconvenience and a frustration before but, now, it was beginning to feel vital that he knew.

Yet, he was no closer.

Some nights he would have dreams about his past, he could feel it in his gut, but the second he woke up, the imagery would be gone.

His attention snapped back to the present when Cuad squeezed his hands. “You had chosen four people, yes,” he said and sighed, “…Would you like to see if you still have the capability of doing it now?”

Pangu sat up even straighter. “I can?”

“You can do whatever you want with your abilities, Pangu. I will walk you through the first case.”

They waited until the princess and her personal guards returned for the day, sometime after dinner, and May looked in a bad way already. She must have been forced to meet with her parents again, judging by the scowl on her face but Pangu hoped this bit of news would cheer her up.

“The spineless PIGS!” May yelled and threw down her outer robe onto the ground where it was promptly picked up and put away by Fujin.

“You had to know it would happen, given the wedding on the horizon,” Kaz responded, calm and almost uninterested.

“The shit excuse for a King does not need to come and monitor the wedding. Is he going to follow us to our quarters after the ceremony and make sure we fuck too?! He should sit his stupid ass back in Kalia and just accept that the wedding happened.”

“Did you not ask for the King to come before?” Kaz recalled, all at once, and, unfortunately for him, aloud. The glare May shot him made him realize it was something he definitely should have kept to himself. He cleared his throat and pivoted, “Anyway, it will still take over a week for him to arrive. You know how slow royal convoys are.”

Fujin returned. “Pangu, I hope you are close to done with your training.”

“He is well off,” Cuad answered in his place, “However, he and I would like to test something to ensure he still has all of his skills.”

The trio stayed surprisingly quiet for a moment where they all leaned in, expecting the hooded man to continue.

“Well?” May broke first.

“As the Xiang, Pangu can unlock other people’s ability to control the element they closest resonate with. In your case, that would most likely be air. I want to see if he can still do that.”

The entire atmosphere in the room changed. Candles that were not burning bright before suddenly grew and expanded, bringing light to the room and the sun, despite being in the process of setting, shined one last ray through the window. May sucked in an excited breath and her entire body shook.

“Seriously?!” she blurted out, sounding both angry and happy somehow.

It was clear Cuad could not tell the difference. “Well, if you do not want to then—”

“Of course I fucking want to!” she grinned from ear to ear and demanded, “Me first!”

Fujin and Kaz would never dream of jumping in front of her so they stayed back as May pushed herself in front of Pangu.

“What do I do?” she asked.

“I should take your hands.” Pangu offered his, palms up, for hers to rest on top of. It was how all of his sessions with his teacher began and he was confident he would be able to see into her energy in the same way.

Cuad talked them through everything and Pangu kept his eyes closed while he concentrated. As he expected, he could trace her energy just as he could with his own. There were several dams of energy, especially in and around her head. He focused on the block, however, and hoped to smooth out the kinks later on.

The block at the crown was stubborn and quite stuck but, when he used some of his own energy to loosen it, it popped open. It was quite satisfying to feel and even more so when all of the energy from the cosmos flooded into May.

She took another deep, loud breath. “This feels so weird! Something is definitely happening!”

Fujin was next after her and her blockages were much smaller but there were more, consistently, through her body. Some were probably due to her stress and her physical training. Pangu expected much the same with Kaz.

The siblings, notably, had more resonance than May and their blocks were more easily removed. Their other blockages, for the most part, also washed away once that crown block was taken care of.

Cuad advised against doing all three in one evening but Pangu was determined. Even if he was exhausted after Kaz, he was more excited to start training with them as a group. Cuad would still supervise, if he was available, but he remarked that he was confident enough in Pangu now to leave him to his own devices.

There was something nostalgic about releasing the blocks from everyone and then showing them how to feel for and manipulate the energy around them. It came natural although, like always, it was just the information that bubbled to the surface and not any imagery to accompany it.

“I do feel different,” Kaz announced once they had retired to their room for the night. “It is hard to describe but I am tempted to say I am more myself than I was yesterday.”

Pangu smiled, glad to hear that Kaz was adjusting so well. “I know, intrinsically and, well, also Cuad talked to me a bit about it, that the crown block can lead to a lot of problems throughout the body if not well maintained. That does not mean that removing it will be a one-time remedy for future issues but, going forward, you will be able to manage your spiritual body far better.”

Kaz, halfway through removing his armor, stopped and looked over as if deep in thought. “Do you think…maybe man’s natural state is to be free of this block? Because I certainly feel more…correct…in a sense.”

While it was true that Tiandi had sealed everyone’s crowns, it was unclear what the situation was like beforehand. He had his reasons, according to Cuad but there was no definitive story surrounding the event—if it had even been an ordeal to begin with.

As Kaz continued to make himself ready for bed, Pangu tapped a finger to his lips and hummed.

“Hmm, if that is true, I did not know it. …I think. But it does make sense.” Pangu considered an ancient past where everyone had access to the cosmic energy outside of their bodies, using that power at their own discretion. Then Tiandi took it from everyone, maybe after some pointless fighting or a tragic war. Unless, of course, the God’s reasons were more malicious than Cuad let on. He had killed Pangu after all, for a reason he still did not know. Perhaps cruelty was a common element of Tiandi’s practice.

Pangu knew Kaz would probably—gladly—go with him on some speculative path but it was just a bit too much to tackle for the moment.

Snapping him from his thoughts, Kaz walked closer. The guard’s body blocked the breeze from the window and his shadow completely cloaked him. “Pangu,” Kaz spoke his name with a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Do you remember anything else yet? Or is it still just Xiang related information?”

“The latter,” he announced with a sigh. “Nothing else, sorry.”

“Do not apologize,” Kaz scolded and folded his arms over his chest, borderline scowling. Although, from so much direct exposure to him, Pangu could guess that he was not truly as angry as his face suggested. He was proven correct when Kaz continued, “So, what other Xiang stuff do you remember?”

“Mostly boring things,” Pangu replied but when he caught the sea colored eyes staring down at him, he was urged to elaborate, “Like, Xiangs are not supposed to involve themselves in politics and stay neutral; Xiangs are not to kill anyone; and then, of course, Xiangs are not supposed to have romantic or sexual partnerships.”

“Huh.” Kaz did not unfold his arms. “I did not know that they are not allowed partners…then again, I suppose the few Xiang I am familiar with from old stories did not have spouses.”

“A couple of them did,” Pangu corrected, quietly, “but they were killed shortly after.”

“Suspicious. Maybe that is why you were killed.”

“I do not recall marriage but, then again…”

“Not necessarily marriage,” Kaz cut him off, “I just mean that, given your perverted attitude toward me…I would guess you had some bad habits when you were alive.”

Pangu laughed at the accusation. “Perhaps this is some side effect of being brought back. We do not know.”

“You seem quite comfortable with it…”

To enforce his point, Pangu leaned up on the tips of his toes and circled his arms around Kaz’s neck. He nearly closed the distance between them but gave the guard plenty of space to reject him. “If you do not like my perversion, you now have access to the air around you. Push me away if you want.”

Pink spread across his face but Kaz still kept a rather stoic expression. “You would tempt fate by going against Tiandi’s rules again? So brazenly?”

Pangu shrugged and pursed his lips. “I am already a villain to him. This is nothing.”

It was obvious Kaz had nothing to rebut that with. He blinked a few times but did not look away from Pangu nor did he shove him off—either with the air or his hands.

So, Pangu lifted up even higher and leaned into him, connecting their lips in a quick, slightly off-the-mark kiss. He dropped down half way through it and was forced to look up at Kaz again, awaiting some kind of response. Considering he had not been thrown aside, he did not expect any yelling but there was really no telling.

The silence was deafening and Pangu was about ready to ask if Kaz was actually so pissed that he could not speak but then he was grabbed by the hip and pulled into his space again. Kaz bent down to kiss him—his other hand holding the side of his face to make sure his aim was dead-on.

That was all they did that first night. A few more kisses were shared but it was so evident that it was Kaz’s first time so everything was on his terms and timeline. Plus, both he and Pangu were tired from the long day and, when training went into full-swing, there was barely any energy to spare to try anything too intense at night.

Every day, Pangu would gather May and the siblings into one of their rooms and they would practice. If Cuad was not there to watch them, then Sha-parvati would usually show up in his place. She always wore a wide grin as she stood to the side, quietly observing. Her expression was, Pangu assumed, because of how much May was throwing things back and forth across her room with the wind.

The commotion, mixed with yelling, made all of the other guards believe the princess was having a fit and they left her alone. That worked out in everyone’s favor though. The more distance May was given, the more time she was allowed to hone her new skill.

Although, to be perfectly honest, she was not very good with it. Pangu would never say it to her, at least not so bluntly, but she could not lift anything over fifty pounds and her control on the element would waver. Mostly, she used it to retrieve items instead of getting up to grab them. Or, she would shove at people from a distance to get their attention.

Fujin was advancing the fastest and she could throw her energy around like a great weight. Pangu had not seen her favored weapon before that week—a sword and a thick metal shield—but it was all she trained with. Rather than hold the shield with her left arm as she had been accustomed to, she started to keep it in the air and move it all around her body to block the attacks from her brother.

They had moved out to a balcony once the siblings wanted to spar with their new abilities and so Kaz, in particular, had more room to move. He threw his javelin around with reckless abandon but, with his control of the wind, he was always able to bring it right back. He also started to use the element to lift himself—jumping higher than he ever thought possible and then bringing his blade down to the ground in a flash.

Pangu and May would often abandon their own training and just watch the two exchange blows for a few minutes. Pangu’s only concern was that other guards might be able to see something from down below but, he supposed, even if they looked up, they would only be able to see quick, blurry movement.

After about a week, Pangu was sure that, not only was he back to whatever form he was in before his death, but that his three new friends were competent in their element as well.

He still, as he did every night, retired to Kaz’s room once the sun set. May gave him a sideways look as she shut herself and Fujin away in her room. Pangu cocked his head to the side and then stumbled forward, having been pushed by the princess who used the air.

Kaz caught him, however, but Pangu suspected that was the point. His face warmed and he felt a bit embarrassed—he supposed they were not hiding things as well as he thought.

It was not as if they had done anything wild.

Other than nightly kisses and some recent, cautious touches, Pangu did not feel there was anything “indecent” going on. Definitely not to the degree May clearly suspected.

Truly, whatever the princess was imagining was probably closer to things Pangu fantasized about but had yet to have the courage to try. Kaz was delicate in his responses and, while he had initiated a few kisses, he still tended to become stiff at certain crossroads.

Slowly, they had been making progress with a little more touching each night, leading toward the kinds of things Pangu had been envisioning since he first regained consciousness. While not explicitly and single-mindedly thinking of Kaz in such a way, it had definitely been on his mind for a time.

Pangu only worried now that their nightly ritual had plateaued and they would never escalate any further.

His hands itched and he had a burning sensation in his chest and stomach but it was not unpleasant. It also, like many feelings he was sure he was experiencing for the first time, actually felt quite familiar.

Sometimes, when he was in bed with Kaz, he would feel like he was on the brink of remembering something but he was never able to chase the thought.

Dressed in his night robe, Kaz stood beside him in the bathroom and they washed their faces together. The water basin rested between them and Pangu would, often, pull water from it so he would not have to wait his turn. It was more convenient, he thought, but sometimes Kaz would give him a face as if he was irritated by him. He once called him a “show-off”, even. 

But, Pangu still did it since it made the entire process of getting ready for bed go by faster. He then looked over the selection of oils and a smirk began to pull at his lips.

Kaz had called in an order from Mythos to receive more scented oils so that Pangu could find his own to use while coveting his favorite. But, Pangu still liked that scent and would, occasionally, try to sneak a few drops.

He grabbed it while Kaz was distracted and tried to quietly unscrew the cap. But then his hands shot up, over his head. Well, really, it was the vial that was moved but he had been gripping it so firmly that his hands went with it.

“What are you doing?” Kaz asked with narrowed eyes.

“…nothing.” Pangu smiled.

“You think I do not notice you?” He squinted his eyes, almost shut, but then cracked and started to laugh. One of his hands went to fold over Pangu’s—an attempt to take the oil from him—while the other wrapped around the back of his waist.

The kiss was meant to distract him and Pangu let it work for a moment though he did have a hard time holding back his laugh initially. He waited until Kaz, too, was taken with the kiss and then yanked his hand away, pushed him, and ran for the bedroom.

Of course, he was stopped and the vial was successfully pulled out of his hand while his body was lifted and thrown to the bed. Pangu cackled the entire time while, simultaneously, being impressed by Kaz’s control of the air. He was really quite skilled to be able to multitask like that with so little training.

Kaz rushed in once he had the vial of oil secured and joined him on the bed. He leaned over the top of him and, while Pangu was excited for the oncoming kiss, he did not want him thinking that he won their “fight” so easily. So he grabbed the corner of the nearest pillow and thumped him over the head with it.

“Hey!” Kaz shouted but a laugh took all the edge out of his voice. He smacked the pillow away and then held Pangu’s hands, preventing him from any more surprises while finally leaning the rest of the way in for the kiss.

Pangu’s heart beat up into his ears as excitement and adrenaline pumped through his body. He felt bold so he parted his lips and pushed his tongue forward. It would not be the first time but it had not happened much either and definitely not so early into the night. So, when he was met with just as much enthusiasm from Kaz, he felt a lot more optimistic about the night’s direction.

[fayes-fics]

Tattoo

Pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Modern AU, Benedict goes for his first tattoo.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, vaginal sex. Mentions of tattooing, needles but detail is intentionally vague.

Word Count: 4.8k (oops…)

Authors Note: This is for @amillcitygirl who sent the image above as a fic idea. Enjoy lady! <3 Thanks as ever to @makaylan for a beta read. Full disclosure - I don’t have any tattoos. I did a little research into rules/licensing for tattoos in UK and chatted briefly to a friend who is heavily inked, to gather info. But still l don’t claim accuracy about the process - she was also tattooed in France, which may be different to UK/US. Please forgive any inaccuracies and the latitude as, well, this is just a silly fic.

It’s another warm summer afternoon in Brighton, and if you have to turn away one more giggling teenager tumbling into your shop and asking for some hideous cartoon character, you might scream. You sit listlessly in front of a fan, and as you hear the bell signalling the door opening, you almost wish you were closed for the day.

“How can I help you?” Your words almost die in your mouth at the man before you. He’s beautiful. 

“I’m umm looking to get a tattoo,” he frowns, realising he’s stating the obvious.

“Well, you’re in the right place,” you chime with a smile. His responding grin does strange things to your insides. “Do you have an idea of what you might like? We have books of designs and on the walls,” you gesture.

“I was hoping for something more original, actually,” he admits and reaches into his pocket, unfolding a piece of paper and placing it on the glass counter between you.

You look at the design and are captured by the beautiful sweeping lines. It’s abstract art but also looks like an ancient language symbol.

“This is stunning,” you confess, “where did you find this?”

“Umm, it’s an original; I drew it,” he answers bashful.

You look up at him, surprised, “You’re an artist?”

“I… dabble,” he demures.

Oh, he’s just lovely.

You smile at him. “I’m sure this is possible; it might take a couple of hours. Are you around for a little while?”

“I can be,” he smiles.

“Then when do you want to start? I can fit you in now, or you can come back when convenient?”

“You? I thought you might just be the….”

“Receptionist?” You supply with a pointed eyebrow raise.

“I’m so sorry. It wasn’t meant as an insult; I’m just surprised. I’ve never seen a tattoo artist without tattoos themselves,” he rushes out as an apology; it’s sincere and sweet. 

You can’t help but smile. “That’s okay; it’s an honest mistake. And you’re wrong.”

He furrows his brow with a slight head tilt, questioning.

“I am inked. Just not anywhere you can see,” your voice unintentionally husky.

You watch as his gaze slips over your body briefly as if trying to guess where then back to your face. Oh, that was hot. The temptation to rejoinder with ‘would you like to see it?’ burns on your tongue. Dear god, what is it about this man?

“Will this be your first tattoo, or do you have others?” You ask, trying to focus.

“My first,” he admits, “will… will it hurt?”

“Difficult to say. It all depends on location and your pain threshold; it’s different for everyone. Where are you thinking of for this?”

He pulls aside the neckline of his t-shirt slightly. “Sort of here,” he gestures at his upper pectoral muscle, “with the sweeping point going up my neck slightly.”

“That area could be slightly painful, but I’m sure you are brave,” you have no idea why, but you wink. Momentarily horrified by your lack of professionalism, you go to apologise until you see his reaction.

He bites his lip, looks down briefly, and then looks up at you between his lashes with a shy smile. “I’m sure I can take it. From you.”

Something slides down your spine, and your mind flashes an image of you riding him as he lays in your tattoo chair, his fingers tracing the lines of your private inkwork. 

Fucking hell. 

“Uh. You’ll need to sign this consent form before I can start,” you say, shaking your head lightly to rid yourself of that image and handing him the form and pen.

He doesn’t even bother to read; he just signs quickly and slides it back to you, looking expectant.

“Ok... Please come through,” you gesture towards the door to your tattoo studio, wanting desperately to tamp down your errant thoughts. 

He rounds the counter and follows you.

“Please take a seat,” you gesture to the tattoo chair, closing the door as he sits down.

“I will leave the room while you remove your t-shirt”, you offer as you wash your hands. There are towels over there should you wish to cover up anywhere that isn’t the tattoo site,” you gesture.

“No need,” he breezes and whips off his t-shirt before you’ve had the chance to turn away.

You’ve tattooed plenty of fit bodies in your time without blinking an eye, but somehow, this one undoes you. From your vantage point above his head, you can see down the plains of his lean and sculpted body, and your fingers twitch, wanting so bad to trace the defined lines of his musculature. He is very much your type of thing. 

“All ok?” He asks, tilting his head back slightly to look at you. There’s a little smirk on his face.

“Yes, sorry,” you shake your head and open the paper design.

“Is this the actual size you want or just a representation?” You query, grabbing a pair of gloves and a marker to start outlining.

“Actual size,” he confirms as you wheel your stool over. 

“Do you mind if I…?” You rest the piece of paper on his chest as a reference.

“Not at all,” he says genially as you draw closer, your knees under the chair and hunching over his shoulder. 

He closes his eyes and breathes gently as you start to draw freehand lines to match his work. It takes a few moments, but you enter your zen space where the rest of the world melts away. As you go to draw the section that traces up his neck, you watch his Adam's apple bob slightly as he moves his jaw away from you. He has beautiful lines; you want to nuzzle his neck and trace over his cheek and nose.

Dear god, get it together, woman.

“I never asked your name,” you say quietly, realising you didn’t even glance at the form he signed, “I should probably add your information into our system before you leave today. Phone number, name etc., so we can trace you if any follow-up is needed.”

His eyes open, and you are struck by the hazy colour - they are captivating up close. 

“I'm Ben,” he replies, “and if you tell me your number, I can text you mine right now.” He says, fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket without looking. The tone is not particularly flirtatious, more friendly than anything, but you’re still taken aback.

“I'm not in the habit of giving my personal mobile to people,” you respond cautiously, “the shop has a number you can call”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Most people seem to do business via their mobiles these days, so I just…. It was presumptuous of me, my apologies,” he mumbles and places his phone on his bare stomach. 

You find yourself staring at his phone briefly and chewing your lip before you go back to tracing the shape onto his skin. 

You lean over to concentrate on one particular intricate section, and now you can smell his skin. He's not wearing cologne, but it's a clean soap smell and, well, just a human male scent you haven't been around for ages. Your tongue swells in your mouth, and you have to fight the urge to lean a few more inches over and just lick a line across his collarbone.

You hear him inhale slightly, then turn his head towards you. “Why do I smell mangoes?” he asks, almost absent-minded.

“Sorry, that's my hair conditioner,” you brush a strand behind your ear and move away slightly on instinct.

“I wasn't complaining,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes meet for a moment, and you stop tracing. You feel your pulse on your lips; it's an odd sensation, so you have to break the eye contact.

“If you don't mind me asking, how many tattoos do you have?” he asks after a pause as you go back to work.

“One. But it wraps around my body,” you answer honestly.

“Oh wow,” he exhales, “where?”

“Around my hips and goes down my thigh,” you respond, not thinking much about it until he inhales at your description. 

“That sounds…. unique,” he opines quietly, but it's not a judgement, more curiosity.

“It is. It's a vine. It's for my family. We own a vineyard in France. I grew up tending the vines, and I miss it so much when I'm not there. I wanted a physical reminder on my body where I come from, my literal roots. So it doesn't matter where I am in the world; I am always home.” You have no idea why you are suddenly confessing this to a stranger. 

He is staring at you now, close up, his face moved, so it's almost under yours. “May I see it?” he requests, his voice soft.

For some reason, you want to show him. So wordlessly, you wheel back your stool and stand up near the middle of the chair, unbuttoning the top of your jeans so you can pull down the waistband and show a section over your hipbone. 

“That is beautiful,” he whispers, and suddenly light fingertips are tracing over your skin. It's a tingling fire that shoots straight down into your underwear. The sensation makes you lose grip on the marker pen, and the clatter of it hitting the floor breaks the spell. “Oh gosh, I am so sorry,” he mumbles and withdraws his hand suddenly, his cheeks colouring.

You pick up the marker, rebutton your jeans and sit down, wheeling back into place. “I'm not sure why I did that,” you mutter, as much to yourself as him.

“I'm sorry if I overstepped; it's just that it was wonderfully drawn,” he apologises.

“I drew it,” you admit quietly “my friend then tattooed it.” 

“You are an artist?” his face lights up with enthusiasm.

“I dabble….” you respond with a skewed pout, echoing his words back to him.

He huffs a laugh, and you find yourself giggling back. 

“I umm think I'm done recreating the design. Would you like to check it?” you reach for a wheeled mirror and angle it so he can see the design. “You can check here or..” You wordlessly point at the ceiling. 

“Oh wow,” he huffs a laugh looking straight up, “I didn't notice you had a mirror on the ceiling.”

“Not my idea,” you rush to assert. “The owner seems to like the idea that clients can watch the work as it's happening,” you shrug.

“It's certainly novel,” he laughs. Then his focus falls to the markings you have made over his skin. “Oh wow, that's... Better than I thought it would be,” he admits.

“It's just the outline,” you offer, “so I know where to needle. The final design will be much closer to yours.”

“What do you think?” he asks, suddenly apprehensive.

“I think it looks amazing,” you disclose, “it suits you.”

He blushes again, and you watch with fascination as it creeps down his neck a little. “Thank you.” 

“So are we doing this?” you request, leaning in to double-check the lines.

“What?” he questions suddenly, his face jerking over and your cheekbones brush.

“The tattoo,” you whisper slowly but not moving your face. “Are you sure you want it? There's no going back after this.” Somehow it feels like your words have a double meaning—a subtext of burning tension.

“I want it”, he breathes, the gust moving the tendrils of hair around your ear. 

You swallow hard.

You pull over the tray with the inking and gun supplies, methodically prepping. Then you wipe down his skin with alcoholic wipes, ensuring the area is completely sanitised. The whir of the machine firing up surprises him a little, so you place a calming pressure on his shoulder.

“Tell me if you need me to stop; we can go as slow as you want,” you say close to his ear so he can hear you clearly.

He just nods; you see his tendons in his neck standing up in relief.

“Relax,” you instruct, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze, “it will hurt less if you don't tense.”

You watch as he takes a breath and loosens up. 

Then you begin. When the needle touches his skin, he flinches slightly but not excessively.

“Is that okay?” you check

“It feels strange,” he admits. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” he closes his eyes and moves his head to look away from you.

Time seems to speed up as you trace the outlines of the design. He is still, just the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. Again you are into your zone where this could be anyone anytime; it's about the effort and the artistry of the work. Thoughts of your strong attraction to him melt away as your focus is purely on the task at hand.  It's probably been about a half hour when he clears his throat, so you stop and look at him expectantly.

“Still okay?” you check-in.

“Yep, just a tickle in my throat,” he responds, a little dry.

“How about a drink? We can take a break here, actually,” you put down the gun and peel off the gloves you are wearing.

“Yes, please” 

“Water? Coke?” you offer

“You don't have anything stronger, do you?” he asks cheekily.

You laugh. “I do, but it's not supposed to be for customers.”

“I won't tell if you won't,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes a little, “Wait here,” and leave for the supply cupboard outside, where you keep the birthday whiskey your boss gave you. You grab two glasses and some ice from the kitchenette.

“Whisky on the rocks?” you announce as you reenter the room.

He’s sitting up now, taking what appears to be a selfie with his phone.

“Not vain honest,” he says sheepish, “just sending to my brother. He never believed I'd have the courage to do this. Yes, please to whiskey.”

You put down the glasses and hand him the whiskey bottle. “Here you do the honours. I will take a photo for you if you like. So you can send it?”

“Deal,” he grins, unlocking his phone and handing it to you. He cracks open the bottle seal as you snap a few shots that best show the design so far. Then you flick to another screen, type in a number and your name, and then hit send. You quickly lock the phone and hand it back.

In your pocket, your phone buzzes. 

“Did you just give me your number?” he queries, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he hands you a glass with a very generous pour. Oh, that smile is dangerous.

“Maybe…” you shoot back, hiding yours behind the glass as you raise it to your lips.

“Wait, we have to toast,” he frowns playfully as you go to take a sip.

“What to?”

“To beautiful art, whatever the canvas may be,” he says, his voice somehow more silky than before, as he clinks his glass against yours.

“That's an interesting one,” you murmur before you take a sizeable fortifying sip, enjoying the burn of the amber liquid. “You know I can’t in all good conscience continue tattooing you now I've had a drink,” you confess.

“Oh,” his face sinks slightly, “I hadn't thought about that.”

“We can continue tomorrow if you have time,” you suggest, “I can book you in.”

“Tomorrow works,” he nods, “what time do you open?”

“Usually 11am, but I can open earlier if you wish,” you offer, taking another swig of drink.

“That's very generous, but no 11am is fine. How much longer will it take?” he asks.

“Hmm, probably another hour,” you speculate. “Give or take,” as you drain your glass.

“So by lunchtime tomorrow, I will have my first finished tattoo?” he raises his eyebrows. 

“Indeed,” you smile.

“Thank you,” he says, suddenly quite earnest. “I'm not sure I would have been brave enough to go through with this if it wasn't for you,” it's a quiet confession, and he looks down, then up again through his eyelashes. 

It makes you want to pick up his chin and kiss the crap out of him.

“You are welcome,” you reply quietly, hugging your empty glass curled against your shoulder, enjoying its coolness seeping against your heated skin, unsure what else to say.

“You need a refill,” he states, gesturing for you to hand your glass over. The brush of fingers as you do so makes you want to gasp. There is silence as you watch him refill both glasses.

“No music?” he asks idly, “probably a stereotype, but I figured a tattoo parlour would have loud rock music playing all day.”

“Haha,” you deadpan, “I prefer classical or jazz when working. More zen. I can put some on if you’d like?”

“Sure, jazz sounds nice,” he says as you flick the remote and the music starts. You forget that it also programs the lights dimmer; he doesn't comment, so you let it pass.

“Ahh, Miles Davis,” he smiles, instantly recognising the track.

“Well done,” you nod, impressed and lean against the arm of the tattoo chair, enjoying the music, and the softer light in the room. 

“Can I ask you a question?” It's so quiet you almost don't hear him as he puts down his drink.

You turn slightly to face him. “Sure,” you whisper back, placing yours aside too.

“Would you have any objections if I kissed you right now?” he closes his eyes, almost pained that he is asking. 

It's the most adorable proposition you've ever received. So instead of answering, you just lean forward and press your lips to his before he even opens his eyes again.

His response is instant and surprising. For a demure proposal, the kiss that follows is anything but—a hand snakes around your waist and pulls you against his warm naked torso, his lips hungry, his tongue snaking into your mouth and stealing your breathe as he teases yours. He kisses hungry, passionate, sensual. 

God, I want to push you down and climb on top of you right now; your mind cries at him.

“Yes, please,” he gasps as you belatedly realise you spoke the words into his mouth. Out loud.

Before you can be embarrassed, he twists and starts to recline in the chair, his arm around you, pulling you over him. So you hop up and straddle him instantly, lowering yourself over him as your lips meet again.

You know, without a doubt, you will be fucking him right in this chair. A hot slide of feeling inside, heat and moisture pooling between your legs. 

As you come up for air, you reach into your pocket and unlock your phone, quickly opening an app and tapping in a code.

“That bad, huh?” he jests, a little brittle.

“Oh god, no,” you murmur, “I'm locking the fucking shop door.”

“Oh…” he smiles, “wow, it's hot when you swear.”

“Oh really,” you tilt your head and run a finger over his lips, “then I’ll say what I thought the minute you walked into my shop.” You toss your phone aside.

“What?” it’s a little breathless.

“I hope he fucks me in my tattoo chair,” you confess.

He growls and pulls your hips down against him, surging up so you feel him rigid and insistent between your legs. You are desperate for this right now; it's been what feels like hours of tension and teasing, and you are beyond ready.

“Can we just fuck?” you suggest, “I know it's like a first, but please, I just want to go fast and hard.” You've never confessed that to anyone, even when you have felt it in the past.

“Oh god, yes,” he affirms and paws at your clothing. You rip off your top, and he helps you unhook your bra, his hands instantly grabbing your breasts as soon as they are free. 

You hum approvingly as you grind against him, unfastening your jeans and his at the same time, one hand on each.

“Wow, that's efficient,” he breathes, impressed.

“Yeah, I have talents,” you laugh, pushing his jeans down his thighs.

“I can tell,” he agrees, as you hop off him, strip off your jeans and underwear to the floor and are back on him in a flash. He stutters as you grind your naked, soaked cunt against his grey boxer briefs, the moisture seeping through the cotton. “Fast and hard, you mean it?”

“Yes, I do,” it's your turn to growl.

His expression melts into something else entirely, and he surges up and forces you down on top of him. Strong arms lock you against his body as he kisses you with a ferocity you didn't think him capable of. You feel a hand next to your leg tugging down his underwear; then, he grabs himself and, without warning, surges his cock into your body.

“Oh FUCK” you scream against his lips, eyes rolling from the sheer invasion.

“You asked for it,” he gloats.

“Yes, yes, I did,” you stutter and pant as he just holds there, allowing you to adjust to the sensation.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers darkly. 

“Oh god, yes,” you reply and tilt downwards so his pelvis is flat on the chair. You rise, careful not to put your hand anywhere near the fresh tattoo as you place your hands on his body and start gyrating in little circles, dragging his cock against all your walls, stretching yourself out, revelling in the feeling of being so viscerally filled and violated. “Damn, you feel good,” you moan.

“So do you,” he groans, “please, please fuck me.” 

You've never had a man beg like that before, and god, it does so many things to you. You want to pull his hair and push him down, licking a hot stripe up his neck, biting his chin. Realising there’s nothing to stop you, you do it - his responding noise is music to your ears. You pull up and slam down onto him, stuttering a yes through clenched teeth. Knowing you will do this for hours until your thighs are trembling if he’ll let you. 

His hands grab your hips as you begin a steady rhythm. “Your tattoo is the sexiest thing I have ever seen,” he asserts, his fingertips trailing the vines just as you'd fantasised. Little fires of heat follow wherever he touches, bringing goosebumps to your thighs and arms. It makes you ride keener, sitting up, back arched, using just your thighs as leverage. As he reaches the vine that twists and wraps around your thigh, you moan, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “I want to trace it with my tongue,” he declares.

“Yessss,” you hiss, “ I want that.” He feels divine sliding in and out of your cunt, just the right dimension to make it invasive as you push down, the kind of slight ache you chase from every new sexual partner but rarely receive. You keep a steady pace, lingering on the downstroke, revelling in the stretch, then a snap up. You throw your head back and close your eyes, enjoying the intoxicating moment.

“Open your eyes,” he murmurs, his voice deep, “watch yourself”. 

You do so and see your reflection in the ceiling mirror—it's an arresting sight. He looks gorgeous laid out beneath you, and you look close to a goddess as you rise and fall onto him. 

You make eye contact with him in the reflection, which charges the atmosphere. This is so wrong, but so right - fucking this stranger in your place of work.  Hypnotised by the tableau you see above you, you grab his hands from your thighs and push them onto your breasts, leaning forward into his hold and changing the angle of your hips. You shudder as his cock nudges just right, deep inside. 

“Oh, there it is,” he smirks and tweaks your nipples as you start to pant open-mouthed and fuck yourself roughly, using him, “that's it, how does that feel?” his voice velvety.

“So… fucking… good,” you groan a word with each stroke, tearing your eyes away from the ceiling to look down at him, the chair starting to squeak a little in protest as you go faster. Plunging without thought for anything but chasing the spiralling feeling coiled tight in your belly.

“I- I can’t last like this,” he warns at your onslaught, moving his hands to grasp your hipbones, his thumbs pushing into the flesh of your belly like a band over your tattoo.

“Just hold on, please; I just need a little more. Fuck, your cock feels so good,” you babble through gritted teeth, mindlessly close to something amazing.

“What you need is this,” he growls and flicks a fingernail at your distended clit as you rise. You scream at the sensation, and your cunt clenches forcefully onto him. “Fucking hell,” he cries at the pressure.

“Do that again,” you order through gritted teeth, and he obeys, a whole pulse running up your spine this time, causing you to buck hard against him. 

You lean over and kiss him hungrily, moaning into his mouth, running your hands over his face, into his hair. As you go to pull away, he grabs your jaw and holds you in place, kissing over and over until your lips feel sore and your lungs burn for more air. All the while, you push insistently down onto him, unable to stop yourself from chasing the feeling so hard.

“Cum with me,” you whisper against his lips, looking down at him as you push yourself closer and closer.

“In-inside you?” he stumbles, his pupils blown wide, surprise written across his features as if it never occurred to him that you would allow it. 

“Yes, give it to me,” you respond gustily. You belatedly realise in your mindless haste that you are riskily bareback fucking a stranger; it’s just not like you. “I'm protected,” you shorthand.

“Okay,” he whispers, a touch reverential. 

You rise back to a sitting position, and then his finger slips against your clit, circling with the necessary pressure, and you feel hurtling straight towards oblivion, wound so tight. 

“Don't stop,” you chant, closing your eyes as you ride so fiercely the chair rocks on its moorings. He groans loudly now and is surging up strongly into you, meeting you on your downward thrust, fucking himself so deep you know you will feel it tomorrow. Opening your eyes, you see him staring up at you desperately, a bead of sweat forming on his brow that you ache to lick off. “Ben,” you cry as you snap.

You know he is groaning and calling your name and a litany of other things as you convulse around him, sunk deep, your thighs trembling, but it sounds far away as blood rushes in your ears—the vibrations coursing through your body from a tingle in your scalp to spasms in your hands. Then he sinks his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, cumming deep inside you, the warmth coating your walls.

You slump on top of him, uncaring of how inelegant it may be, the bone-deep satisfaction causing your muscles to feel languid and weak. You pant against his neck from the exertion, glad you collapsed on the side away from his tattoo.

“That was….” he begins but pauses to exhale heavily, “fuck, that was amazing,” he concludes, his hands running up and down your back in soothing, swirling patterns. “I… just… fuck, I honestly can't talk,” he gusts, embarrassed.

You giggle and lift your head to look at him. “It was wonderful,” you opine and run a finger over his lips. He busses against it, and a lazy breathtaking smile breaks across his face.

“So umm, may I see you again?” he asks, the sweet bashful man back again.

“Yes, 11am tomorrow bright and early,” you say pointedly with a smile.

“Oh fuck, I almost forgot,” he gusts a laugh attempting a glance at his shoulder.

“But umm, if you want to hang out after that, I'm amenable,” you offer with what you hope is a nonchalant tone; inside, you are yelling, please, please.

“How about before then?” he asks, “What are you doing this evening? And overnight? And in the morning?” his voice teasing and sweet.

Oh.

“I can be available,” you respond lightly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Good,” he sighs, “because I’m probably going to need help tending this tattoo” he tilts towards his fresh ink. “And I’m definitely going to need time to tend to this tattoo,” his voice suddenly husky as he traces his fingers lightly over your vines.

Well, that's an offer you are not going to refuse.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enchantedbytomandhenry

[zuccnini]

Hi all I’m Zuccnini, I’m a traditional artist who enjoys sculpting and felting on the side. Here are all the places you can find me and some more information:

Etsy Shop - For Sculptures, Sticker sets, Prints, and Original Paintings! 

Ko-Fi/Ko-fi Shop - For Tips, another Print/Sticker Shop, There’s a up to date gallery for all my art from 2020, supporters can see artwork earlier through there as well! 

Other places to find me:

Twitter

Instagram

Materials, Commission info, and more below (...)

Materials: 

Watercolor & Gouache: Renesans (half pans), Liquid watercolor,  Paul Rubens (half pans), Liquitex Acrylic gouache, and Holbein Gouache.

Paper/Mediums: Hot pressed watercolor paper, Handmade watercolor paper, Matt Board Scraps, Cardboard, and Toned mix media paper. 

Sculpting Mediums: Sculpey Firm, Apoxie Sculpt and Cosclay. 

Miscellaneous Supplies: Micron Fineliners, Faber-Castell Pitt Artist Pens, Prismacolor Pencils,  Tombow Dual Brush Pens, 2B lead pencil, Random Ball point pens, Copper jewelry wire, Wool roving, Liquitex Varnish (Both Gloss and Matte), Water Brushes, and Random Paintbrushes. 

Commissions:

I offer a multitude of commission types, However they are not always open, for sculpted commissions they’re only open on Etsy when the listings are open (I will also announce it as well), as for watercolor commissions they’re announced on IG and Twitter with very limited slot availability. 

Watercolor Paintings - I offer: Bust Paintings, half body and Full body illustrations with full BG. You can also request the painting be matted and shipped for additional cost (US only)

Sculptures -  Regular Size Figures (2.5 - 6 Inches) Miniature Figures (1 inch)

Art trades and Fanart:

Art trades: I only do art trades with close mutuals and Friends, they are forever closed to strangers.

Fanart: I enjoy getting fanart and art of my OC’s, you have my full permission to make fanart! Please do tag me if you do make it so I can reblog/share it!!!!! As for some boundaries: No nsfw-content without asking first. Also feel free to ask for OC references, I’m more than happy to supply some. 

Final notes/Good to know:

I schedule posts on here so I’m not particularly active. Feel free to message me on Twitter or IG for concerns, inquiries, and the like. 

Don’t re-upload my artwork, I do not allow it, I will take down any of my re-uploaded content I come across. Unless it is a commission I don’t ever give permission. If you see my content re-uploaded elsewhere please do notify me of it. I don't give permission to “curator accounts” , Clickbait Article writers, Pinterest accounts, or anyone else. 

However you may use my work as pfp’s and you may also edit it if it’s transformative (Traced art isn't transformative). Just credit me for the artwork. @’s and links are preferred!