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#before the official digital colours

dreamofjoys · 8 months

Text

DAY 1 KINKTOBER 2023

7 min in heaven? More like 7 days inside you!

Main Masterlist + Rules / Next Day of kinktober

A/N: Please read the rules on my kinktober 2023 main masterlist before proceeding. Rule breakers will be blocked.

Characters involved (separated): Malleus draconia(TWST), Wriothlesly(Genshin), Ayato(Genshin), Nanook(HSR), Luo Cha(HSR)

Sypnosis: After getting officially married, you and your husband decided to finally go to your long awaited 7 days honeymoon in a resort at private island specially reserved by your husband! Those 7 days were meant to be fun and relaxing, but why are you so tired by the end of it?

C/W: Fem reader, possessive, slight implications of yandere at nanook's part, jealousy, fingering, squirting, begging, praising, overstimulation, luocha having nasty/bad ideas. This story takes place for 7 days (7 fics)

BY OPENING THE TAB BELOW, YOU CONSENT TO READ DC/SMUT WRITING + HAVE READ THE RULES

Day 1 Scenario

"Here's the room that is specially reserved for you. Please enjoy your stay here, my lord and milady." The butler bowed before closing the door to give you and your husband some private time alone. Your eyes sparkled in joy as you take in the magnificent sight in front of you. This was more than a room. It was a grand suite that consist of a living room, kitchen, a master bed room and two guest room. The furniture was decorated in luxurious gold and red colour that was made fitted for royalty. You decided to explore the master bed room first. As expected, you were not disappointed by the results. The whole room was well lighted up due to the floor-to-ceiling windows, which provided a magnificent view to the outside, which is the sea. A king size bed was placed in the middle of the room, with a plush looking set of tables and chairs beside it. There was another door at the side, which you can only assume that it leads to the bathroom. "This place is so cool!" You exclaimed, twirling around in excitement before landing on the bed with a oompf sound. Your husband trails behind you, humming in approval at the service that they were given. It seems like he was satisfied from the abundance of money he had spent on this honeymoon trip. "How did you get to know this place?" You looked at your husband who has taken his place beside you, twirling a strand of your hair around his index finger and thumb. "I did some extensive research to make sure that everything was to your liking." His hand switches to caress your cheek, before sliding down to the plum of your boobs, and further down to the swell of your ass. "What's wrong?" You blinked innocently, trying to the shake off your excitement at your husband's actions, but the wet poolness in between your legs says otherwise. He knows you are aroused when he finally slips a finger into your labia, your slick easily coating him as he starts finger fucking you. "That butler has some nerves to check you out while I right infront of him." You spread your legs wider, eager to welcome your husband's digit while he rambles off about how it's rude to stare at one's wife. "Don't hold back your moans, I need you to scream."

𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗨𝗦 𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗜𝗔

He was a god at making you squirm around just by his mere fingers alone, curling it on a "C" motion, deliberately applying pressure onto that one spot that he knows will have you screaming his name out.

"I can tell that the butler likes you." Another finger in and he had you begging him for more. "Ma-malleus! There please!"

"Am I making you feel good? Say it and I will give you more."

"Ye-yes yes!" You start rutting your hips on his fingers, your toes curling when he manages to hit a even deeper and delicate spot inside you. "You make me feel so good! Malleus please!"

Malleus hums in satisfaction at your begging. His free hand toying with your sensitive clit, rubbing it in a fast circular motion, prompting you to release all over his hands as you let out the lewdest and loudest moan.

𝗪𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗟𝗬

"Sh-shit-"

"No bad words sweet heart, or else I might throw you into jail. But that would be better right? That way, no man will ever looking at you."

Wriothelesly carefully scissors your hole open, wanting to test how much your cunt can open up just by finger fucking you alone. "Are you tired already? I haven't stretched you to the size of my cock yet." Each time his fingers stretches you open, you whine at the cool air breezing through your vagina, reminding you of how empty it feels inside.

"Want your big cock please-" Wriothlesly raises an eyebrow at your statement, intrigued at your boldness. "Sweetie, if you want me to fuck you nice and good, you need to scream for it."

𝗞𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢 𝗔𝗬𝗔𝗧𝗢

"Yato, faster please?"

"I can't hear you, dear."

"Fa-faster please!"

"It seems like my hearing is having a problem today. Dear, would you mind screaming what you want out loud?" His fingers were thrusting into you at an agonizingly slow pace, so much so that you want to just fuck yourself on his fingers, but the steady grip on your waist says otherwise.

"PLEASE FUCK YOUR FINGERS IN FASTER, AYATO!" One moment you were screaming at your request, the next moment you were screaming and moaning at his slender long fingers repeatedly pressing onto your sweet spots, sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the sudden waves of pleasure.

"Mhm, that's more like it." Ayato smiles, feeling satisfied that you had gave in to his teasing once again.

𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗢𝗞

The Aeon of Destruction lives only to destroy, and that includes abusing your insides with his whole fist in.

"Na-nanook! We just started. Please hah slow down a little!"

"What for?" He clicks his tongue in annoyance, mind still preoccupied with the filthy butler who dared to look at you. "Im just doing what I normally use to do." The room was filled with the sound of your slick squelching as Nanook fist his hand into you like a punching bag. You wanted to move away from him, feeling overwhelmed by his fisting but he only pulls you back, lightly scolding you not to run away from him.

"Wa-wait, Im gonna-" He groans when he feels your wall tightening around his fist, clear liquid shooting out of your hole and onto his muscular arms. "Did you just squirt on me? Wife, you are really cute."

𝗟𝗨𝗢 𝗖𝗛𝗔

"Soon honey, I know you are going to come any moment now." Luo cha murmurs, seemingly focusing on pleasuring you with his skilled fingers.

"Luo-Luocha, a bit more on the right please! Ah yes, there!" Your high pitch moans drives Luocha insane. He might be burning with jealously at the butler who was previous oogling at your figure, but his focus has somehow switched to wanting to give you the best sexual experience ever.

"Don't hold yourself back, hun." Luocha fiddles with your bundles of nerves, encouraging the knot on your stomach to release and flood over his hands and staining the clean bedsheet with your juices.

A sinister thought of asking the butler to come in and change the bedsheet had appeared in Luocha's mind......

951 notes · View notes

hwaightme · 2 months

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Feel alive

(masterlist) (taglist)

🌑 pairing: strictland!seonghwa x gn!singer!reader 🌑 genre: fluff, angst, dystopian, sci-fi, noir, music, lovers to enemies to lovers 🌑 summary: after escaping the confines of prestige academy you find yourself singing at 'morpheus' - an underground bar and club for strictland outcasts. except this reality, too, crumbles before you. your fate is again in the hands of the same man, and you are forced to ask yourself: what does it mean to 'feel alive'? 🌑 wordcount: 9.5k total 🌑 warnings/tags: semi-edited, authoritarian regime (strictland/z/universe z), lore-inspired, guns/gunshots, implied attack on club, implied violence, crime, alcohol/drinking, implied organised criminal networks, discussions about death/murder/execution, nihilism/existentialism, 'bout as dark as the diary entries, long lost lovers, starcrossed, hope, blue bird, jazz, uprisings 🌑 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🌑 a/n: noir hwa, ateez synthwave song quartet, and lore ponderings. hope you enjoyed <3 any notes, reblogs, comments, asks are always welcome! much love!

The lights dimmed, and it was as if the jazz bar never existed in the first place. The worn seats occupied by drunks who liked to pretend they had taste, sofas in the far corner reserved for big shots and well-established scum with pretty young accessories on either arm, the bar that sold everything under the rays of the dying sun and evil moon, it all disappeared with the dawn of the spotlight falling upon your alluring silhouette. A simple, yet elegant sleek black dress with a hint of shimmer that graced your curves seemed to shine in the glimmering illumination. The delicate silver accessories were stars in the hypnotising sky, the allure of an unreachable universe becoming overwhelming as your hands glided over the length of the microphone to find purchase on the stand. The music, starting from a low rumble, was an echo of the abyss surrounding you, manifested only at the softest inhale. After what could have been the drums and trumpet, or could have been the heavens announcing the beautiful singer’s presence finished their spontaneous introduction, Seonghwa had the pleasure of forgetting his purpose, at least for as long as the song lasted. He could drift into a sultry paradise, seduced by what had to be a siren’s call, and regard the customers of the Morpheus bar with something less than loathing.

As soon as he cleared the last of the russet coloured drink he had ordered in one gulp and set the glass down on the bar, shutting his eyes momentarily to focus on the warmth of the alcohol running down his throat, Seonghwa found the fingers of his right hand softly drumming out the song in accompaniment, each digit hitting one note, another, again and again. Back in the day, it had not been often that his visits to the bar occurred at the same time as the one and only Y/N’s performances, but when they did, he swore he could see the smog clear and tomorrow become a certainty. The music consumed him whole and even though he knew down to the second when the magic would be extinguished, a part of him still retained the hope that the spell would never be broken. Not when the only encore he could guarantee for himself was another torturous raid on an establishment such as this one, or another feverish witch hunt for those who had regained their ability to feel and to think freely. All in the name of a faceless leader who even Seonghwa himself had only met a handful of times despite being in a high ranking position of Guardian Inspector - above the standard white-clad machines, above the so-called officials clad in military uniform, he was in charge of ‘keeping civil hands clean’. At what cost? Perhaps his own emotions were the price.

The dark-haired man caught himself wondering how many people in this bar could enjoy themselves to the fullest. How many of these poor unfortunate souls that succumbed to the rush for easy money and easy love were true followers of hedonism, and were spending their days in an enviable bliss? Biting his lower lip, Seonghwa regarded his surroundings with a subtle scorn. He was well aware that he was to blame for it all too; The regime, to retain the ultimate, unwavering control over the citizens, even those who wholeheartedly believed they were well-hidden from the authoritarian judgement, was a supplier of one of the many pleasures after all - toying with people's weakness before the formidable seven sins only to lead them into full submission. The Strictland government, despite propagating ‘human emotion being a disease’ had anything anyone could ever desire, and Seonghwa was one of the many agents to guarantee long term partnerships, addiction to the illusion of a better life, and most importantly, stability and security for the people who had taken him in all that time ago when no one else would, and had given him a chance.

While he was the bringer of demise, the counter of profits drenched in crushing dread and the hand of twisted and subjective justice, at the same time, Seonghwa believed that it gave him all the more right to judge the society he was a part of. After all, he was not the one being fooled. Inevitably, his glimmering orbs settled back on the singer’s gently swaying form as they broke into the chorus, and nearly shuddered as your gaze, from languid, half-lidded but oh so appealing eyes, met his, only for a split second but it was as if hellfire itself embraced him and greeted him like an old lover. Each lyric - a personal address as you moved along at a sensual pace, the song smoother than the most expensive silk. He smirked to himself as he caught his ponderings accelerating uncontrollably, attempting to squash them under a sober, calculating fist. You were no fool either. An entertainer, measuring out each attack like a venomous serpent, not threatened, seeking fun in the reveal of vulnerability of your listeners - each one believed that you existed for them and them alone, and in the hypnotic state added bill after bill to their already hefty tips in the hopes that at least some would reach you, and you would give them that beautiful smile, maybe something more. Truly, a shame that the owner of Morpheus owed the regime a lot more than all the tips, so-called donations and what, compared to the rest of the money, was "honest" earnings all combined. The Captain of the Inspectors in charge of this little project had gotten a little too nice as of late, at least that was what Seonghwa had concluded, but it was not him who was going to pay for it, naturally.

Twisting his head, Seonghwa took note of the familiar faces that appeared at the entrance to Morpheus to join the rest of the Inspectors that were posing as regular customers, cleverly dispersed among the filth that reeked of dependence. Of course, dependence on what the regime was selling. There was no other way about it. Nodding the two men a curt hello, Seonghwa let his eyes trace back a swift path to the magnificent performance. He paid attention to how your dainty earrings glinted even in the lowered light, and how, with every subtle movement, he could see the gorgeous dress tighten just a little around your body. You were so out of place in this scene, an angel in the darkest pits of hell, a little bird struggling against the wiring of a cage, curling inwards, growing smaller until the last flutter of the wings. As he was caught up in admiring your beautiful style, grace, and listening to your sweet, warm tone, one of the two newcomers, a fellow brother in governmental salvation to Seonghwa, tapped him lightly on the shoulder and occupied the seat beside him.

“As flashy as ever, Woo. Might as well tattoo ‘trouble’ on your forehead,” he motioned towards his not so inconspicuous suit that made him look more like a mafioso rather than an average joe. Seonghwa had to admit, however, that the outfit looked too damn good on him, but this was going to be just one of those things he was to take to his grave. The man did not need his ego fed any more than what the ladies he finds as company for the less busy nights not hounded by the lower ranking Guardians provide.

“I’d carve a pretty smile on that face. Not even a hello?”

“Hi San,” Seonghwa deadpanned, looking past his friend who he noted had tied his hair into a low ponytail, and right at the other half of his duo. Wooyoung and San, two peas in a pod, and probably the last people one would ever wish to see if they were in trouble with any of the Inspectors.

“Aren’t you mean today… what, pretty star over there didn’t give you attention?” Wooyoung retorted with a smirk creeping onto his lips. With a raise of an eyebrow and a shake of the head, Seonghwa dismissed any thoughts of peace that he had been imagining, settling back to regular business.

Rolling his shoulders back, he let the scene come and envelop him. It was no coincidence that so many of the Inspectors had gathered, especially with Wooyoung and San now closing in the arrivals. It did not take a genius to guess that Captain had changed his terms, and this was no longer going to be an ordinary shakeout for money or customary information gathering from the owner of Morpheus. The owner had stalled for far too long, had strayed from ‘good practices’ of a loyal rat, and it was time to set an example for others. Disease was the human emotion, and this bar was a breeding ground for thought crime, was it not?. Lowly, lonely creatures who gathered here were all examples of where society had gone astray from the perfect vision Z had put forward, at least… most were. Those who had forgotten the meaning of feeling despite having regained the ability, those, to Seonghwa, were the true vermin. He regarded the few gathered who were most definitely not meant to be part of this story. A middle aged, haggard man with flushed cheeks and what had to be his fifth glass of the cheapest liquor on the menu. Some bigshot from another town who he recalled some of the Inspectors in charge of patrolling the area identifying this morning - no ties, no money, just a lot of ambition that was to amount to nothing. A few lowlives here and there who were faceless, in shades of grey. All not meant to be here, and yet by some stroke of fate, here they were to remain. Finally, he drifted back to the main act, still at the centre of the stage, the sole luminance among the tainted - those who had no hope in making Seonghwa feel anything but numbness. You were the only one working here. Earning your meagre pay - he had discreetly checked the bar’s balance books when the old man behind the counter was too distracted to care for a person of his kind strolling into his office that was concealed in a dark corridor. It was shameful how you were still in this far less than grand establishment, sharing your angelic vocals, despite obviously not having any compensation nor appreciation of your efforts. Perhaps the moments on stage were the only time when you felt alive; the thought would not leave Seonghwa. After much investigation playing pretend, he was confident in his conclusion: you had not changed.

You were on the tattered poster plastered up outside - the one and only, shows every Friday night. Perceive and behold the spectacular ethereal being as you sang songs that spun threads out of a spectator’s very soul, blood trickling from the cracks in their shattered form turning to gold. You sang their… his pain, promised him his glory, soothed and comforted him. Seonghwa was well aware that you were the sole reason that he had shifted his visits to Morpheus to this particular day of the week and monitored the illegal location so closely, otherwise, your face would never grace his corrupt, bleak vision. You did not deserve to go with the rest. When breaking free, one was not supposed to fall into another trap, and yet, here you were. You were not meant to be here, littering the ground that you stood on as the last of the gunpowder would settle on your perfect skin, your long, alluring eyelashes. The onyx-haired man felt a shift within himself as he mused the outcome of the unspoken plans - by the way in which Wooyoung leaned back onto the counter, a grin dancing on his features and by the way San was acting particularly kindhearted to the lonely staff who was rushing about, struggling to keep up with the visitors’ habits, he knew that tonight, they were not planning on hearing any cries for mercy. They were here to complete a mission for a higher purpose. And that mission was far from the sweet music which he had loved his whole life, and finally found again.

“They’re not supposed to be here.” he mumbled, his voice obscured by yours, echoing across and elevating to a sensual culmination.

“Aren’t we all? We’ve got to do what we’ve got to do. Think of them as a sculpture or something if it makes things easier,” Wooyoung took out a rolled up bill to put between his lips - a habit that he had formed after a few too many hits on the back of his head by San, an interesting approach to make a man quit smoking. He called it ‘smoking capitalism’, earning quite a few chuckles from the Inspectors, Seonghwa included.

“So say someone’s going to scope the ring to clean it up a bit, would you let them hit our favourite auntie?” he asked, referring to the friendly cleaner who was probably the only one in the entire city who did not bat an eye at the violent matches that Wooyoung managed under the wraps for the regime, instead cooing over the fighters he brokered for and giving the men an extra helping of her home-cooked delicacies. In many ways, she was a mother figure for the Guardian Inspectors, despite her being at risk, every day, of being taken to the Red Humans should one of them be in a ‘different kind of mood’ on an arbitrary morning.

“Definitely not. But this singer. Who are they to you?”

“A pawn.”

“A pawn?”

“Mhm. I can pawn them in for rewards.”

“Suppose they are pretty enough, if that’s what you’re thinking of…”

“Goodness, take the pimp out of the bordello but can’t take the bordello out of the pimp. That business was shut a while back for you, no?” with a groan, Seonghwa retaliated at Wooyoung’s rather out of pocket suggestions. Over the many years of serving Z in not so ethical ways, the man had tried on a few too many hats and seen a few too many hats to retain even a sliver of compassion towards anyone except those closest. It was understandable. Odd, but understandable.

“Kidding. But for real though, what’s the use?” Wooyoung bit down on the bill softly, gaze following San who had moved towards a couple of underlings that had gathered in a booth off to the side, towards the far corner of the bar. Clearly, he was checking if they had read the room.

“Say, isn’t it Captain’s niece’s birthday soon? We don’t exactly have a musical act to hand since…” Seonghwa trailed off, knowing that Wooyoung knew what incident he was referring to, involving an accusatory phrase, a short temper and a very professional shot from a sniper rifle from the boss’s office window into the temple of a figure that was storming away from one of the many Inspector accommodations. Another one to fertilise the soil with.

“Smart. I’ll give it to ya. If you sort the business out before showtime, pretty thing’s all yours.” Wooyoung responded, patting his side where, underneath his shirt, Seonghwa knew was a holstered pistol. Pushing himself away from the counter he stood up, adjusting his long, leather coat and glove. It was not that he had a particular preference, but ever since entering the new life upon being pardoned for feeling, a life where he had to say found a home, he could not help but wish to always look just that little bit more put together, even if only to appear loyal.

“Cheers. I’ll get them a nice candle-lit dinner to soften them up and then inform Cap’,” sounding purposefully sarcastic, Seonghwa mumbled under his nose, well aware that this was not a method that had ever been in use. One glower and curt phrase had always been enough - the rest was simply the heart’s doing masked by odd humour.

“Awh, look at you, how sweet and lovely. What a darling,” Wooyoung teased, sending Seonghwa a wink. The music was fading away, the last notes landing on his ears, marking every moment.

“One more word and you’ll be the main course.” with his index finger he poked the centre of his fellow Inspector’s chest in threat, maintaining a cold expression.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m going to be roasting out here tonight, so make it hot with pretty thing.”

“Filth,” the taller man spat, knowing that attempting to counter his friend was nearly impossible - out of all the people he knew only Captain could fully round him in, and even then Wooyoung had a smile on his face, much to Seonghwa’s confusion.

“It’s not me who is with the heart eyes.”

“I just saw an opportunity,” playing with the leather piece that buttoned up to protect his neck, he eyed you, waiting for you to finish. Unknown to you, you did not have much time left before your very life would be placed on a scale and thoughtlessly pushed to lose against the weight of usual Strictland business. Such was the violent, catastrophic illusion of order, such was the structure that had been Seonghwa’s twisted saving grace. He was going to be doing you a favour by taking you away, won’t he? Either way, you would be out of work, and he was helping you with a little job search from one of the highest payers - chivalrous and kind hearted, that was who he was. How else could the Inspectors form any partnerships and feast on forbidden fruit otherwise? Who was he kidding - a soul like you was not meant for a life like this. But he had to try. He needed time to think.

“Sure. Sure. An opportunity to grab the gorgeous star for yourself.”

“Oh shut up will you?” snapping, Seonghwa were desperately trying to cut the conversation short, seeing the window for him to make a beeline for the edge of the stage, towards which you promptly setting off after finishing your set, and receiving a dismal lack of applause - what else would he expect from the crowd gathered in Morpheus? Especially when the stench of iron and the final judgement was mere minutes away from materialising.

“You know that’s not my style.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be good. Hope you did not block my mustang,” throwing one last comment behind him, the solemn man was off, only barely catching Wooyoung’s half-hearted response.

“Have I ever…”

The mission was simple. Since he was dismissed from the less than pleasant task of wiping out the bar, considering that two more senior Inspectors had made their appearance and were clearly more in the know of what was brewing, Seonghwa had only a couple of minutes before all freedom would cease to exist. And then, no heaven could bestow mercy upon neither him, nor the beauty he had come here to save for no logical reason, instead relying on some hazy version of hope and nostalgia. He had parked his ink black ride around the block - out of sight for unwanted eyes, and perfectly positioned for getaways just like this. If you could catch the Inspector’s drift, that was. One could only pray that the dazzler on stage was just as dazzling when it came to reading between the lines. He had perhaps even less than the estimated time to explain himself before Wooyoung and San would call the owner over to get the real evening show started. Time was ticking along with the skyrocketing pace of his heart as he stopped you on your tracks with a slightly outstretched leg, only to move forward and cast a shadow over you.

It was difficult to remain level-headed when, even at such proximity, in the normally less than flattering lighting, you were nothing short of a deity. Something out of fairy tales, stories of royalty or angels in kingdoms far far away, those that were not supposed to exist. But here was one, staring right into his eyes with your beautiful expressive orbs, as deep as the history that Seonghwa had raced here to try and reignite. A universe in your irises, an all-consuming black hole in your pupils, beckoning Seonghwa, leading him into a stupor before he stuffed his hands into his pockets, bringing himself out of the momentary trance by force. Time was not on his side, and he knew that it would never be unless he kept on running.

“Lovely song, that was.”

“Indeed. ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ is one of my favourites. Did you enjoy the performance?” Your speaking voice was different, of course, but nonetheless struck that stunning familiar chord within Seonghwa, one that should never see the light of day if he were to remain how he had to be. It was terrifying, how he was ready to let go of his resurrected image as an Inspector for a chance to turn the past into the present.

You were polite. The features of your alluring face were hinting at a genuine interest, an appreciation of every movement, every breath you were taking. Though, in Seonghwa’s own line of work, particularly in the stage of undercover investigation, this was simply the usual. Show a smile, bat the eyelashes, make business, disappear. Genuine interest was an artform, but even if you were indeed expressing it in the way with which he was familiar, it felt so natural that he almost wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe this daydream who had come to change the colours of his occasional Fridays, his hunts for those straying from what Z had deemed ‘right’, leaving glimmers of memory to last him through the weeks when he had to be numb to life itself until he could come and see you again. It did not mean much to you, most likely. You were strangers in your respective new lives, and had Captain not made the decision to teach the owner of Morpheus a lethal lesson, you would have remained that way. Drifting together for a few hours, remaining distant, and drifting apart again. A forever flowing story that was to rekindle a starcrossed ‘once upon a time’ but never have that sought after resolution. A dream that reminded Seonghwa of why his unlikely survival was a blessing. As your eyes revealed a hopefulness, a plea for praise, Seonghwa gave you a soft smile.

“Of course.”

“I look forward to seeing you, you know.”

“O-oh?” Seonghwa could barely contain his surprise, the previously cool demeanour cracking into a raised eyebrow. Could you remember?

“Yes! You always sit at the bar, second stool from the left. And order… what is it… a brandy, right?”

He would be lying if he were to say he was not surprised by your suddenly chipper attitude. Almost like you were a kid who entered a candy shop for the first time to see all of your favourite treats, you excitedly revealed to Seonghwa your observations. While it was endearing to see, the shuffling behind him, along with the idea that he was not the only one intently observing left the Inspector with a sense of unease, nearly throwing him off from the initial goal that motivated him to brave talking to you in the first place.

“In…deed?”

The singer, who was previously an astounding yet distant figure captivating all who cared to look even once, rapidly transitioned into someone who he almost found endearing, the keeper of far too many qualities that cemented the rightness of his decision. You were not meant to be here, he repeated to himself. Mutters around the bar were getting louder, and as the rest of the musicians filed out of the main hall and crammed into a tiny room off to the side, in Seonghwa’s peripherals he noted San’s steady, seemingly innocent amble between the scuffed round tables and equally unpleasantly antique chairs.

“You are the only one who listens, so, how could I not notice? Actually, I wanted to talk to you properly, or at least say thank you but didn’t want to impose.”

As much as he wanted to sink into the warmth of your words and allow you to recognise him on your own accord, the rippling commotion that was finally rearing its ugly head spurred him on and struck his heart with an icy, calculating mace. He had a minute tops, knowing Wooyoung’s love for never counting down to zero before beginning.

“Well, let’s talk. Outside,” The black-clad man tried to walk off, aiming for the dark corridor at the end of which was the fire exit, but when you did not move, rolled his eyes.

“I was thinking I could buy you a drink-”

“Cute. Another time though,” seeing the tinge of disappointment in your gaze was new, and entirely unexpected, but gave Seonghwa plenty of leeway to sway you into following him, “since you watched me enough, I bet you can guess who I am. Or, what I do for work. Right?”

A steely glare, leaving nothing open to interpretation. For additional evidence, he demonstratively adjusted his coat, loosening the belt he had tied around his waist to reveal a leather holster, discreet, gun always within reach. Attentive to detail as ever, you took note of the inconspicuous design of the pistol before he let it disappear once again under the fabric - in this city, there were few who had access to any form of weaponry, the items being so highly regulated by the government that it was nearly impossible to purchase or get licensing. Your mind began to list off options; Seonghwa clearly was neither a standard Android Guardian due to the lack of mandatory uniform, nor a scruffy criminal whom you had gotten used to over the time that had passed, nor part of the police force, nor a Class 2 Prestige Academy student. It only left an answer that shook you to the core. Of course, it was not that you did not hold the assumption in your heart. As a matter of fact, you had previously assumed that you were used to greeting people from different walks of life, all gathered in the same place, at the same time for what you wanted to believe was a ‘good time’. That was what drove you to live the life that you were living. Exist in this space, despite your pay and your security almost always not being enough, but you would give even that up if that meant you could keep your freedom.

Seonghwa was effortlessly graceful, determined in every step and gesture, not a single movement wasted. In a sense, it was as if he had purposefully learned and memorised the most efficient adjustments of the body, letting himself metamorphose into a lithe, agile animal. It was terrific, and terrifying, how at any moment he could pounce, and you would never know when until it was too late. For this hint of a reason, you decided to follow the man’s unspoken command, only whispering an airy inquiry after the other musicians, which he coldly dismissed:

“You need a better band anyways.”

---

The gravity of the situation only began to settle in when the biting breeze outside of the stuffy bar hit you, seeking opportunity to tousle your locks. The strands that had managed to fall over your face were trembling, the only sign revealing your suppressed distress as the last of Morpheus's dusk-like illumination was shut from your vision with a confident slam. Your eyes widened as you watched the Inspector, or in other words, your personal grim reaper, flip a lock on the door - previously thought to be inaccessible to anyone except the owner, done so masterfully as though he were the one who had installed it in the first place. An exit, a saving grace for innocents inside, turned into a dead end - more symbolic than one would ever initially assume. He trailed up the length of his arm stopping for a moment at the material that covered his shoulder, listening to leather hit leather. Seonghwa could only find calculated resolve within himself. This was the usual for him, and that after weighing all the options, he had logically come to the conclusion that the demise of the people inside was indeed the most attractive option.

As you heard the first shot resound inside of Morpheus, you shuddered, but did not dare stop following the man in the trench coat as he strode on ahead, hands remaining in his pockets. To any onlooker it would seem that he was relaxed as ever, out for a late night walk in a neighbourhood he knew better than he knew himself. Breath in, breath out; you were trying to remind yourself of the simple act, focusing harder than you had ever done during your performances. Imagining your diaphragm stretching, letting the lungs take in as much air as possible and-

Another shot. Breath knocked from you, balance off kilter, you desperately wanted to run. Anywhere. Maybe you should have stayed, not picked up on the subtle offer of your life being spared. In that way you would not have to live with the guilt of not having said anything to your fellow bandmates, not having said thank you to the owner for… what was there to thank anyone for? Out of habit, you lifted a hand to brush over your ear, echoes of the time when you had first felt emotion rippling across your body, making you shiver. You were all fools misled by hope for a brighter tomorrow in a world that was permanently overcast. Where did this running lead you? Where did your wistful song guide you? Back into the arms of the apocalypse - broad-shouldered with hair the colour of ink, the last thing you would see before disappearing for good. At least you should thank your former so-called colleagues for the information about the common demise. Tears welled up in your eyes as you obeyed the lean man’s orders and practically toppled into the black vehicle parked by the Morpheus, a lonesome yelp masked by the gunfire and indecipherable orders.

You had no idea where he was taking you, and you did not dare ask. The man reminded you of all you had been trained to avoid in your new life, a threat, a weapon, a soldier. His gloved right hand remained resting beside the gearshift, while his left coldly gripped the steering wheel. Not a single one of his muscles appeared to be relaxed, and not a single movement had a semblance to anything natural. An automaton in the driver’s seat, you wanted to feel comforted by the idea that you were the only one truly human in the car, for the idea that someone as brutal as a Guardian Inspector could be conscious or decisive was too strong of an agony.

At the same time, in the moments where the Inspector turned his head to check the surroundings, you noted something familiar. He dashed past the blue, purple and aquamarine signs that lined the streets of the district you had learned to love, himself turning into a painting. Be it in the angles that formulated his stern face, or in the elegance that he was unable to conceal, the past crawled out of a long-forgotten cavern in your psyche and gnawed at your nerves, just out of reach of realisation. Perhaps in another time, you had known him. Perhaps in one of the banned art pieces, you had seen him. At the same time, this could not be the first Guardian Inspector you had encountered - they were all similar enough in demeanour, so what was another face? Equally as entitled, above the law. Above a runaway like you. You were vermin. The enemy. A traitor to the Academy, to Strictland, to Z himself. Or so you were told. The only thing that could be different about this Inspector, was that he could be your last.

A sharp stabbing sensation spread from your temples and what had to be through your skull, jabbing into bone and into the cerebellum. Nauseous, you shut your eyes and clutched your head in a futile attempt to seek some form of relief. The car roared, and a sudden stench of rubber and concrete penetrated through every crevice, choking your senses and making you taste the acrid pollution. One turn, another, your organs were being jolted back and forth as the monstrous engine urged on by none other than the embodiment of oblivion dragged the car across eternal misery of long-abandoned districts.

“Oh goodness…” a feeble whisper left your lips. You reached out to grab hold of the door handle, peering at the grooves to find at least something to focus on. His vision was swimming in your eyes, etchings of your surroundings morphing into repressed memories.

A boy marching beside you to class, head held at the angle commanded to all academy students. A young man, dressed in all white with black locks parted in the middle. A solemn stare, unreadable, though not fully blank as it should be. But at the same time, how could you, another student of Prestige, detect that something was not quite right? Since when could you feel? You lifted your head cautiously to try peeking at the Inspector again, but he was frozen. Only the abrupt tightening of his gloved hand around the steering wheel and a determined turn reminded you that he was not quite an automaton.

“I must be dreaming…” you blinked away a teary blur, and clenched onto your dress for the remainder of the journey, feverishly recounting whatever lyrics you could. Your little safe haven, your precious prayers to the arts - truth which you had discovered after abandoning everything you could have been.

Your hand moved on instinct to the side of your head, feeling for what once had been the hub of your consciousness. A chip that made you feel right at home, heartless, but with a purpose. Forty years of education, an eternity to serve something greater than you; clear goals, a mission for your generation and many that would come after you. Hand in hand, you were soldiers of a catastrophically closed-minded society; at the time, however, you could not be ‘happier’. Or rather, more numb. Because you did not know of negative nor positive, you could not experience either, and so remained in a stable equilibrium, just as the superpower of this forlorn land had instructed. Disease was the human emotion. You were ‘healthy’. Until that boy appeared in your life, and revealed himself to you.

Bright-eyed, hopeful, excited. So unlike anyone. And against better judgement, you let the inklings of curiosity drip over your heart, and the beginnings of affection take flight. Dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin, a smile brighter than the sun, a soothing mellifluous voice, vowing to you that you could build another life together. A life much more beautiful than one constructed with deception and hollow propaganda. What could a little tap of a breaker do to you? Apparently, it could change your destiny.

As you massaged your temples, you locked gazes with the man in front of you, but met the boy from your past in the mirror. That same worry, knotted eyebrows, concern and care so evident you could touch it if your fingers grazed his cheek. You could not move, even when he turned back to the road, and continued to stare at the rear view mirror in the hopes of seeing your daydream again. You had to be wrong. This had to be you hallucinating. You must be just… afraid. Out of your mind. And so you were recalling one of the few times when you thought the world could do you no harm.

“Get out,” a command. As cold as steel. The engine was still roaring in your ears, despite the surroundings having gone dead silent.

A click. The doors unlocked. You could run if you wanted to. Though you were fully aware that the action would shorten your lifespan to a mere few seconds. You remained seated, gaze falling onto your lap, and listened to the painful succession of sounds that led the man to open your door, and roughly grab your upper arm.

“I said, get out,” you followed him like a rag doll, knowing that any attempts to resist would put you into even more danger. At the same time, even though the Inspector was obviously attempting to instil terror and a twisted respect for him, he could not face you. Consciously he made an effort to barely raise his lashes, thus keeping his scrutiny concealed. Reading through his hesitation was easy enough.

He could not keep his hand on you for a second longer after you stood up straight, darting away as though you were an open flame. The man cleared his throat and locked the car, before gesturing towards an abandoned building that loomed over the gravelly opening where you had completed your journey. Comically, it reminded you of Prestige, even though the latter was of much larger proportions and possessed a more unique shape. Perhaps it was the fact that this block, what used to be an apartment building, was crumbling, made you think of the academy’s inner workings. Rotting away. The cogs in the machine tearing each other apart.

This might be your end or your beginning, you were not sure which one. With an astounding loyalty, you let yourself be guided into the long-forgotten cement fortress, up exposed stairs with metal railings, past walls left bare, illuminated by an exposed moonlight, laying down a carpet of silver. It was oddly easy to think that life was beautiful when it was likely going to be taken away from you. The walk was silent, and the longer it lasted, the more at peace you felt. The odd step rang out and echoed like the gunshots you had heard, so surreal that you could barely believe it. It must have been a joke. Fireworks, or someone just being a little boisterous. Morpheus had seen so many colours of Z’s regime, it could not disappear now… oh who were you kidding. It was done for. You little version of an escape. Your space to feel.

As you made sneaky glances at the Inspector to your right, who not so ceremoniously had loosened his coat’s belt once more to have easy access to his gun, you could not help but think of the boy. You had followed his advice, made a run for it while he had been taken away by the Red Humans. Two youngsters who betrayed the regime. But who was truly free? The one who had been exterminated, or the one who had to live in fear, but at least felt the ruthless emotion?

The enigmatic man slowed down, and so did you. He made a turn, so did you, acting as his shadow. You were certain that you were probably breathing at the same rate. An empty hallway, lined with equally empty rooms and destroyed apartments. From a humble abode to rubble, you could see the horrific vistas of the district, and the drop to the cold ground below. No wall, no security, no certainty. It was only you and your fate in the form of a man who seemed to possess too much of a likeness to the keeper of your fragile adoration.

The Inspector walked in front and turned to face you. You froze, burning under his scrutiny. Eyes like scalding cold ice, assessing you, condemning you. Your best listener, now listening to your terrified heart. For what could be the last time, you felt alive. As the man reached into his pocket, you prepared for the worst, however, he only motioned with his head for you to follow him. Confused, you obeyed, finding yourself in a more secluded corner of the floor, one which had remotely retained the appearance of an actual room. Stuck in the same few seconds, there were no further commands from the Inspector, causing your mind to wander, and lips to move on their own accord:

“I should not be here.”

“Neither should I,” he deadpanned, though his choice of words was unsettling. Wasn’t he on a mission?

“I should be dead,” you persisted.

“I should have more blood on my hands.”

A pause. You were in shock, pointlessly clinging onto your own upper arms, stuck in a false embrace. Like prey that had been cornered, you were beyond the point of trusting survival instincts. You simply wanted for the interaction, or dare you say, interrogation, to be over, so you could be given away to the Red Humans, to whatever the afterlife had to offer, in peace. If you were to be melted, then so be it. If your departure were to be short and sweet, so be it. But a little question in your head still remained, a persistent worm which you decided to unleash given your hopeless circumstances:

“Then why-”

“It is pointless to ask when there is no answer,” the man answered coldly, not sparing you a glance as he picked at a filthy off-white tulle which covered a blown out window - now just a frame, with his gloved hand, glaring at the pitiful greyness outside the abandoned building before wiping the hand off with a handkerchief produced out of the pocket into which he had stuffed his hand.

A few steps separated you, but you knew better than to try and make a run for it – the man was armed, and you assumed that the gun you spotted was not the only weapon in his arsenal. He was menacing, unpredictable, and very dangerous. Alongside that, as much as you hated to admit, but the Inspectors were nothing short of extraordinary when it came to their expertise and training. Unlike Android Guardians, they were the leading forces, capable of high-risk decision making and unparalleled critical thinking. If you were to try to describe them, you always ended up thinking of chess. That was what they were playing whenever they were out in the field.

In fact, it was for this exact reason that you were concerned about this Inspector’s behaviour – it was out of line. Inefficient. Sub-optimal. You wondered if this was a new strategy or there was a higher plan; there were so many possibilities that your head could start spinning. You dug your fingers into rapidly cooling flesh, waking yourself up from the distressed rumination. What was the Inspector going to do to you? You had followed his demands so far, and weren’t putting up a fight - what more could he want?

He was unreadable. Gestures unpredictable, expression stoic, he regarded you with an air of superiority characteristic of people from his class. Serpent-like and calculating eyes, regal nose, facial structure reminiscent of a statue, plush perfectly shaped lips – all were a nod to his upbringing, you bet. He did not feel real. Reminiscent of automatons that the regime sometimes used in place of regular Guardians during high-volume riots, he was what one would call the ‘ideal specimen’. Down to the strand of wavy hair that fell on his face, he was a beautiful painting of your worst nightmare. Life had been unkind to you, you decided. It only showed you something prettier than the night lights when it was the last thing you would see.

The man stepped towards you, and your eyelids slammed shut automatically. You did not wish to see your death. The sound of leather against leather, the tied coat belt, the creaking of ancient rotten wood planks under lacquered ankle boots. He must be getting ready to end you. Were you too high profile to be lying with the other bodies in the club? Were you more dangerous in the Inspector’s view, being a singer, or as one could say a ‘spreader’ of inappropriate entertainment. Was this treason? Terrorism? You were not sure – the sentence changed more than the weather. But were you an enemy? With confidence, you had to answer with a Yes. Having escaped the regime, and according to those who had helped you regain some parts of your past self, having had a part in the uprising within Prestige Academy, you were the worst kind of citizen of Strictland. Disobedient, unchanging, and influential. You were waiting for the cocking of a pistol, for cool metal to hit your head, and for the world to go even darker as you collapsed on to the floorboards. The man had to be taking out his gun. He must have taken you away from the raid to be particularly ruthless. A sadist? Maybe. You had no time to judge.

You felt the fabric of your shimmering dress under your fingertips, and imagined you were preparing for a show of a lifetime. You counted your inhales and exhales like you would do before a performance, and conjured an audience in your mind. More rustling, another step. He, that boy, no, young man, was in the audience. Still in the Prestige Academy uniform, but the chip was long gone. He was giving you an encouraging smile eager to hear what you had achieved in your time away from the academy. Leather caressed your hand and you flinched, comforted only by how cautious the action was. Hand turned to raise your palm to the omniscient skies, your illusions combined with reality - what was Seonghwa to give to you?

Funny, how in critical moments, the mind could give you what you had longed to forget. Seonghwa. His name tasted sweet, with a bitter aftertaste. A fine wine, dizzying, addictive. A handsome, talented student who had the future ahead of him, only to throw it away for the taste of something more ‘real’ in his eyes. Something cold was being pressed into your palm, reminiscent of a large bullet or a device your fingers could remember before your mind. Your eyes shot open and were met with a dream and a nightmare. Finally, it hit you. Behind the Inspector’s facade, a mask crafted by years of experience and brutality, was the same boy, who, just like now, pressed a breaker into your palm.

“Wake up.”

Your gaze fell to the intricate metal handiwork, spotting the carving of an ‘A’ contained in a circle right at the base. The taste of anarchy, an uprising, revolution, a hope for something better flowing through a tragic story you two had written. At last, it had a resolution, and you were more than content with who was holding the lethal pen. You stared at the breaker. The very thing that brought you out of an eternal somnolence, submission to a regime. You had woken up then, and never could sleep.

“Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer… the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune…” you lifted your head once more, staring into Seonghwa’s softened eyes. He had matured, his features having become siren-like, dangerous, seductive. Befitting his character. You smiled sadly, “...or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing end them?” He remained quiet, as if he was the one waiting for you to decide your own destiny, “Shakespeare. Hamlet. Ever read it? Or do they not let you?”

“I-” he cleared his throat, concealing a pang of nervousness, “I am familiar with his work.”

“Mm, isn’t that a criminal offence?”

“What is?”

“Reading work exploring human emotion… sounds like treason to me.”

“Reading does not imply sympathising.”

“But you do.”

Again, a heavy pause. Seonghwa rocked from one foot to another one time, another - an old habit? Or an attempt to convince you that he was at least a fraction the same?

“I… I do not,” before you could scowl, he continued, “‘Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once’. I am more partial to this way of thinking.”

“Ah, the irony of it all.”

Your hand formed a fist around the device, and you kept on searching for fragments of the man you loved inside of the new Seonghwa before you. In flashes, you spotted glimmers of gold, feeble hints for something that could be concealed in the depths of his soul.

“So, are you going to make me a valiant person?”

“What?”

“Wasn’t that what you were supposed to be doing?” feeling a little more brave, you taunted him, wishing to see what his limit was. Whether he was lying to you just to set you at ease and make his job easier. So he could see one final sense of betrayal in your pupils.

“We are already dead, Y/N.”

---

Music. A universal language. The biggest risk for a community that someone wanted to silence. So you hummed one song after another, head leaning against Seonghwa’s shoulder as you sat on the concrete floor, in the corner of the room that was barely holding itself together. Bathed in silver light, you shared with him the luxury of reminiscing, mourned what had been lost only to have the feeling be replaced by a budding desire to wish upon anything at all.

Seonghwa might have lied to many of the Inspectors, and was in danger of facing a fate worse than extermination, but at least he did not lie to you. And because he did not lie to you, you were here; you were real. He could have the pleasure of having you beside him, wrapped up in his leather coat; your dress was not exactly ‘inhospitable conditions’ material, as pretty and befitting as it was. You were refusing to let go of the breaker as though it was the tether to a more sunny past, not that Seonghwa would ever dare pry it out of your hands. So long as you could keep singing for him forever. Even when music were to cease existing, and when the sky would fall down, he would still hear your voice. How many times had he visited Morpheus in secret, outside of his official inspections and scouting missions? How quickly had he transferred into a field role just for the chance to find you? How had he managed to remain alive even though his sentence had been supposedly set in stone, and he was still feeling? With each question, the answer grew blurrier and blurrier, until it no longer existed. Perhaps this was a manifestation of destiny. You were supposed to meet again after so much turmoil, so you did. Curious.

“What song do you like?” your voice, sleepy, serene, cut through his ruminations. Seonghwa looked down and to his side, meeting a gentle gaze.

“What song do you want to sing?”

“Mm, no that’s not an answer,” you snaked your hands around his arm and pulled him closer.

“But I like everything you sing. Because you sing it.”

“Sweet, but I’m at a loss.”

“Then let’s be quiet. Together. For as long as we can.”

“There’s not too long left, is there?”

Your question was rhetorical. Both you and Seonghwa were aware of it. Time in Strictland was not governed by the individual but by an unforgiving system. A person, or perhaps a symbol, holding the clock with an iron grip and making the hands fly faster and faster until a second was an impossible measure. Involuntarily, he sighed, causing wisps of steam to escape his lips and rise to the exposed armature of the floor above. With cooling temperatures came the cooling heart, and it was difficult to tell what it was that you loved. What was it that made you feel alive?

“You know, they gave me a choice,” Seonghwa began. There was no reason why he should be telling you about what had happened to him, but the sombre atmosphere seemed to bode well for a confession. You did not interrupt, choosing to remain passive, resigned, “either die for what I believe in, or admit I was wrong.”

“Funny how they gave you a choice,” the infamous ‘they’. The Guardians, the regime, the enemy. Now turned into a friend. Interesting how life changed.

“Definitely was not what I expected.”

“You sure they didn’t say ‘sike’ at any point and you just got lucky?”

“I don’t think they can miss,” a simple, but sharp fact. You bit your lower lip, “...anyways. You can probably guess what I chose to do. The only caveat is that I admitted I was wrong… for a different thing.”

“Do tell.”

“I was wrong for putting you in danger, Y/N.”

“Nothing we could do about that. We were two fools in love.”

Seonghwa detangled himself from you, only to grasp your free hand in his, place the other on your thigh and meet you face to face. Misty-eyed, his rationality was growing frantic, and you knew that at any moment he could snap, and only the clearing night knew what would happen then.

“But I was the one to jolt you out of a peaceful existence. I was selfish-” After years of doubting himself, sinking into a destructive illusion where he would march alongside others like a machine, he was breathing. Much to his regret, it was a sensation far too sweet and heavenly, worth every revolution and rebellion.

“I don’t regret it.”

“...What?”

“I would put this thing to my head time and time again if I had to,” you raised the breaker to eye level, attempting to get at least a smile or a chuckle out of Seonghwa. Much to your dismay, it did the opposite. You would be lying if you were to proclaim you were euphoric.

“I- I’m… Y/N I’m so sorry…” you shook your head and pulled him in, until his exhales and inhales were tickling your neck. Hunched over you like a black-clad shield, Seonghwa was unmoving. Eyes darting down, you spotted that he had taken the pistol out of the holster, and upon a second glance to where he had been sitting, you noted its lonely presence, tucked away with debris and gravel.

“You are alive. And clearly still care enough to remember me. That’s your apology. And your punishment,” in a soothing gesture, you ran your fingers through his hair, cautiously at first, then turning your ministrations continuous, measured out when Seonghwa sat back down on the concrete, only this time nuzzled into you.

“Sorry…” he forced out, choking up.

The moon counted down the time while lazily passing over the building. You were at a crossroads. In haste, Seonghwa had told you of the opportunity to serve the Guardian Inspectors, being a private entertainer of sorts, but he knew you would refuse. Fast. Becoming one’s own enemy was the one thing you would not follow Seonghwa into doing. And that is why he admired you. You were strong. You were truly alive. A bird soaring in the skies in spite of the risks of being hunted, being shot. Simply for the feeling of the wind under your wings, to be closer to the stars and to sing your song loud and clear, every note a celestial blessing.

“Blue bird…”

“Hm?”

“I think I have an idea… if you are willing to go into hiding, that is.”

“Planning uprisings are we?”

“Oh they’ve been long in the works, my love. It is part of my job to close my eyes when necessary, and when convenient.”

“Are you about to be wrong again?”

“Maybe. Or very, very right. Depends on how the song sounds to you.”

---

Walking down the corridors of the headquarters, hands behind his back and appearance pristine, Seonghwa was nothing short of a model Inspector. Low ranking employees cowered before him and bowed, while his immediate colleague Wooyoung smirked, attempting to hook any information out.

“So… where'd the pretty star go?”

Silently, Seonghwa handed him a slip recording the disposal of an ‘unnamed entity’.

“ Oh… well that’s harsh. What did they do, reject you?”

“Apparently once gone so far astray, one cannot be changed. I had to do what was best for the regime.”

“Such an example for others. Wow. Almost too good to be true, Park. Well, I’ll be reporting that the extermination and cleanup of Morpheus was successful.”

“You do that.”

While Wooyoung turned the corner, Seonghwa continued to walk straight down the metal corridor, eyes locked onto the very end. Morpheus was no longer, indeed. But your song was still ringing in his ears, and no doubt, there would be a time when it would resound over the many speakers planted all across Strictland.

Blue skies smiling at me

Nothing but blue skies do I see

Bluebirds singing a song

Nothing but bluebirds all day long

Never saw the sun shining so bright

Never saw things going so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

When you're in love, my how they fly

Blue days, all of them gone

Nothing but blue skies from now on

🌑 perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @starrysvn @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @uwuheeseungie @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @maddkitt @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy @my-loves-my-life @http-gyu

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ultimatebabygirlsupremebattle · 3 months

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Ultimatebabygirlsurpreme tournament Season 2 interest check!

For those who are new, we dedicate our tournament to all things transfem Leo! This is a friendly art tournamant to share people's art and give everyone an excuse to brag about their favourite babygirl! All iterations (including aus and fan iterations) are welcome! We appreciate all babygirls in this house!

Anyone who interested in participating feel free to say so in the notes, we'll be following up with anyone who does if they haven't managed to submit their piece by the end of the sign up period, late submissions will be much more flexible for anyone on this list! Don't worry too much about being certain you want to participate or having time to get a submission ready, this is all unofficial, we just want to get an idea of how many participants we might be seeing!

This interest check will be open for two weeks, and after a week's break the official sign ups will be open for one to two weeks as well, depending on how this interest check goes!

And now the sign up requirements and general rules so y'all know what you're in for! Everyone be sure to check below, especially anyone who participated in the first tournament season! You might find some surprises!

Both digital and traditional art is allowed! And it can be anything from a plain sketch to a fully lined and coloured piece!

We won't be allowing edits, but tracing from the official comics or cartoons is fine! (No tracing of fanart even with consent though)

NO AI ART! Any AI submitters will be blocked and if art is discovered to be AI at any point in the tournament it will be immediately disqualified!

Again, all iterations and AUs are welcome!

Your transfem Leo does not need to identify as female, use she/her pronouns, or be fem-presenting (as much as a turtle can present as any gender anyways). "Trans" in this case is using the umbrella term, and nonbinary identities fall under that! "Fem" here can mean feminine, female presenting, female identifying, or even just using she/her pronouns! (This can get a little tricky to use as a requirement because gender is fake but basically if you think your Leo belongs here then they most likely do)

The art piece itself must obviously include and focus on our babygirl, but if you want to draw other characters with her you can!

No gore, nsfw, or tcest. We don't be promoting any bashing of these things though, DNIs are fine but any variation of "kys" is not okay. Trying to keep things clean and easygoing here!

TOURNAMENT SEASON 1 PARTICIPANTS! We have said before that only people who didn't make it past round one would be able to sign up for season 2, but we've reconsidered! If you didn't make it past round three, you will be allowed to sign up! Priority will go to first time submitters in the case of odd numbers of course, but otherwise we'd be happy to see some familiar faces!

#bracket tournament info #ultimatebabygirlsupreme tournament season 2 #tmnt leonardo #trans leo #transfem leo

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hydr0phius-art · 4 months

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Painting Chiss Skin

Before I start this, I’m just going to say that I attempted to do an in depth version of this part and then stopped and did dot points because it was too overwhelming.

A lot of what’s in here can be applied to different body parts. Some of it may also be applied to traditional art, but most of this is for digital art. This post focuses on faces. Eyes and scars will be another post that'll hopefully follow this one relatively quickly.

Picking colours (and some other tips)

> Experimenting is good!

> There’s blood beneath skin and it’s going to show through at different intensities based on what your lighting is doing. I’m assuming Chiss blood is red, so I usually make any blush on my Chiss purple. (Red + blue = purple. Basic colour mixing thingz, you know?)

> The fairer the Chiss’ skin is, the more vibrant you can be with that purple blush in my opinion.

> Temperature, colour, and intensity of light determines what the skin looks like.

> Having black shadows on a coloured artwork is a good way to flatten the whole piece; when I paint shadows on a Chiss face, I go for a dark blue or purple and blend it with what’s already on the canvas. Playing with layers and their opacity function is also good.

> Laying down a base blue before starting with the rest of the colours is good. You can see that I did that in the speedpaint I’ve attached to the end of this post.

> This website about colour zones will help.

> This website about colour blocking will also help.

References

> I find a face reference of an actor I want to Chiss-ify. Then I have my blue skin reference, which is usually one of the Na’vi from Avatar.

> I use the Na’vi because there’s a lot of images available with variation with temperature of light and quality of light to observe.

> Make note of the colours that appear in their flesh as light interacts with it.

> Warm light will have pink that transitions to purple, then to blue as shadow starts to come back in. I’ve put Ar’alani next to the reference I took inspiration from (link here) for comparison.

> You want to go and paint your reference as it is, except blue. When you get to adding highlights and shadows, look at the Na’vi image and see what colours appear in that light.

I think that’s pretty much all I do when I paint Chiss. Here’s a speedpaint of Thrawn with Lee Pace as a face claim if that helps somewhat :3

(Ignore how I erased his uniform; I could NOT be bothered with that sorry).

Also, Here are some artworks that helped me when I was figuring this out. I’ve done a bit of analysis that might or might not be helpful. Take what you like from it.

Magali Villeneuve

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A post shared by Magali Villeneuve (@magali_villeneuve)

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In my opinion, Villeneuve’s Thrawn portraits are the best official artworks of him that we have right now. They’re my main go-to for inspiration. The lighting plays across the skin in a way that gives it a fleshy, warm, alive feel. Even the colour zones are present, which gives it that extra bit of depth. If you can’t see them, that’s fine; it takes a bit of time to get used to looking for them.

Rod Reis

The first of Reis’ Alliances cover is also up there with good official Thrawn art we’ve had fairly recently, imo. His style is different to Villeneuve’s, but he follows the same processes with the colour zones and how the skin interacts with the environment around it. The shadows aren’t flat or black; they have colour to them that adds more dimension to the portrait. There’s also that hint of purple-blue blush around his cheeks with more yellowy-blue tones on his forehead and more blue tones around his jaw and chin (again, colour zones are present :3). The light is cooler than Villeneuve’s in the Chaos Rising Portrait, which you can see in the lighter teal hue on the right side of his face. Cool light usually brings out the lighter blue tones in the skin (that’s just what I’ve noticed, though).

And that's it! If anyone has questions, feel free to ask them :3 I'll try and get this eye post out soon <3

#thrawn #ar'alani #grand admiral thrawn #admiral ar'alani #chiss art #thrawn art #art with hydro #hydro rambles #painting aliens is hard but you don't have to suffer in silence #magali villeneuve #rod reis #art study #chiss #chiss ascendancy #star wars #star wars art #Instagram

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auroblaze · 1 year

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Here we go!

[GENERAL RULES AND TERMS OF SERVICE]

I START WITH 6 COMMISSION SLOTS. First come first serve, by the time they are full I’ll open them again only once I’m finished with them all.

If you want a slot and you know what to ask me to do please send me an email at [email protected] subject titled "Auro commission". In the email, include your selected commission type and any other details about your commission. Visual reference must be included, and if it’s a comic you want, please include your storyboard.

🚨🚨 EDIT of the 5/10/2023: SECOND SESSION IS OFFICIALLY PAUSED. I’ll be working on the 6 slots commissions that made it before the technical difficulties with Paypal (mentioned in the last reblog). If something changes I’ll be reopening the remaining 4 slots!💪🎨 If not, I’ll be seeing you at the next session directly :’>

✨Please read all the details that are written down below under Read More before sending any email. If something is not clear do ask about it! ✨

This list can be updated at any time if situations and/or experiences demand so.

IMPORTANT:

Currently I don’t work under deadlines, and I don’t do rush jobs. I guarantee that clients will be kept updated on progress of their respective commissions. Please keep that in mind before asking for a commission and I thank you so much for your patience.

If the goods are meant to be showcased in videos or other projects of the kind (permission must be discussed beforehand), please give proper credit and link to my pages (instagram, deviantart or just one of them) in the description.

The goods will be distributed digitally only. Printing is only allowed for personal use and you cannot resell the commission under any circumstances or claim to be the original author of the artpiece.

Unless it has been agreed otherwise, I’m able to choose to display the commissioned art on my galleries and portfolio to promote my work.

I do not allow my art to be used for NFTs, training AIs or crypto transactions.

Things I can draw… Characters from shows/anime, video games and manga/comics I’m familiar with (examples: Sonic The Hedgehog, Homestuck, Pokémon, NiGHTS, Skullgirls, Splatoon, Hades (by Supergiant games), The Legend of Zelda, YuGiOh!, Promare, Undertale/Deltarune, The Owl House, Trigun, Dr. Stone); characters from a series I’m not familiar with if given proper references; crossovers, fantasy, scifi, animals, fanfic illustrations, OCs (if given proper references), and possibly more. Feel free to ask! Things I will not draw… Gore, vore, rape, abuse, offensive themes (racism, transphobia, homophobia, etc.), RPF (real person fanfiction) or shipping real people, I reserve the right to refuse any request.

Upcharges

My limit of characters to draw in one picture/comic is 1, you will be charged for every additional character in the drawing. For an illustration, the price will be multiplied by the number of total characters. The backgrounds will remain one charge. For a comic, every additional complex character is $30 for a pencil page, $40 for an inked page, and $50 for a coloured page.

If your character has a complex design (Examples: detailed armor, complex clothing or jewelry, additional features…) a charge of $15 will apply.

Excessive changes will be charged. On your third and every subsequent major modification request, you will be charged $20.

My limit for short comics is 1 page. If you want more, it will be multiplied by the number of pages and type of commission (ex. a 2 page pencil comic is $100 x 2 = $200).

HOW TO PAY: You will receive an invoice from my Paypal email once the commission has been agreed upon. I will not start working on the commission until the invoice is paid. No refunds. Payment in euros is preferable, if possible. Otherwise USD is always accepted.

[ILLUSTRATION PRICING]

PENCIL SKETCHES:

Head: $10

Half body: $15

Full body: $30

-> With Abstract Background: +$30

-> With Detailed Background: +$50

INK (or DIGITAL LINEART):

Head: $20

Half body: $25

Full body: $50

FULL BODY FLAT COLOURED (with pencils, markers, or digital): $75 (+$15 for shading)

With Abstract Background: +$35

With Detailed Background: +$100

FULL BODY COLOURED WITH WATERCOLOURS: $100

With Abstract Background (watercolours): +$80

With Detailed Background (watercolours): +$150

NSFW*:

Half Body Pencils: $40

Full Body Pencils: $80

Half Body Pencils + Inks: $45

Full Body Pencils + Inks: $95

Half Body Coloured (only digital) : $65

Full Body Coloured (with pencils, markers, or digital) : $110

->With Shading: +$15

->With Abstract Background: +$125

->With Detailed Background: +$155

*YOU MUST BE 18+ FOR THIS TIER. As it is a new and delicate subject for me, we’ll discuss beforehand what kind of scenarios I will be comfortable enough to draw.

[COMIC PRICING]

The client has to show me the storyboard or script of the scene that I’m meant to follow in the desired commission.

SHORT COMICS:

1 Page Comic, Pencils: $100

1 Page Comic, Pencils And Ink: $180

1 Page Comic, Inks + Colours (with pencils, markers, or digital): $270

NSFW COMIC PAGE**:

1 Page Comic, Pencils: $300

1 Page Comic, Inks: $350

1 Page Comic, Inks + Colours (with pencils, markers, or digital): $400

**As it is a new and delicate subject for me, we’ll discuss beforehand what kind of scenarios I will be comfortable enough to draw.

#auro talks #paypal commissions #art #auroblaze commissions #my art #auroblaze art

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inkbrushzine · 2 months

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Artist Spotlight featuring page artist Marr-"I’ve been playing Splatoon since the first game, and been drawing since I was a kid! I just love video games with interesting and colourful designs, and a lot of positive influence came from drawing Splatoon art. I hope to make others inspired with my own colourful works :D"

About us-

InkBrush Zine is going to be a free digital zine that hopes to showcase the uniqueness of the weapons throughout the Splatoon series of games. This can be either with original or official characters. We aim to mainly accept artists who have never been in a zine before.

#off the hook #splatfest #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splatoon fanart #splatoon zine #splatoon art #splatoon oc #squid sisters

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mindshelter · 8 months

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fully digitized, hi-res versions of old comics are nice but fan scans — especially if the comic was published before the turn of the century — have a certain charm that the former is never going to be able to mimic. sure, the objective quality is higher, but digital restorations tend to do away with other things: the halftones used for shading, the colouring style, the texture of the newsprint paper used, the personality. those scans are the closest thing to holding a copy of those old, near-impossible to find/afford floppies in your hands. let's not even get started on the removal of letters to the editor by "official" digital copies.

#not to say there isn't a spectrum; some digitization efforts are good some are... really sloppy #digitization isn't a bad thing. it's vital for preservation and great for recolouring POC who Should Not Look Like That for redistribution #to a new readership #but there needs to be more quality control #comic blogging

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helyiios · 5 months

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I’ll be holding on (so let it happen)

nicholas angel/danny butterman

happy new year !

“It’s almost New Year’s,” Nicholas says quietly, staring a little blankly at the party around them, barely avoiding the spilling of one of the Ande’s curious mixed drinks, “do you have any resolutions for 2009 ?”

“I dunno,” Danny offers, munching on a salt and vinegar crisp, “I guess, watch more movies ?”

“That’s not a resolution,” his partner snorts, taking another sip of his beer, “that’s what you do on the regular.”

“Mm. Then, I guess I’d like to start rugby again, in my free time.”

“Oh, really ?”

“Yeah. Reckon I liked it a lot, plus, now that my wound’s all healed, it won’t hurt to run around a bit. Gotta put those muscles to use, y’know ?” Danny smiles brightly, face tilted upwards. “What about you, Nick ?”

“Huh ?”

“Anything you wanna do this year ? Memorise another Official Handbook, maybe ?”

“Oh, sod off,” Nicholas retorts, jokingly hitting his friend’s stomach. “No, I guess I haven’t given much thought. Keep my routine in track, no matter how much you try to tempt me with Cornettos on lunch break.”

“Hey, the vanilla ones are mad good !”

“That’s why I’ve got to avoid falling into temptation. No, I suppose….”

The older of the two men shrugs slightly, eyes locked on the golden drink, his grasp on the can barely tighter.

“I suppose there is one thing I want to do, but I’m not sure I’ll get around to.”

“Really ?” Danny asks, eyes a little wide, “how come ?”

“I don’t know, it’s delicate. Could backfire.”

“Well, you’re Nicholas Angel,” his partner declares, elbowing him gently, “no matter what, you always make things right.”

There’s a softness to the clear amber of Danny’s eyes. Nicholas could never quite pinpoint what colour they were, exactly. One day they seemed jade, shining brightly under the hot sun, but the Crown’s lighting made them so incredibly alike cognac, going from golden to deep maroon.

He always thought it was breathtaking.

“I suppose I do, don’t I ?” he laughs, the side of his mouth curled in a small smile. “I don’t know. God knows I don’t want to mess it up,” he adds, eyes fixed on the other’s lips.

How curiously they were shaped, looking so alike a heart, so ready to be kissed, to be devoured…

“I…”

“The countdown’s started !” Danny suddenly exclaims, pulling his forward by the shoulder, and oh, he’s so warm, “c’mon Nick, let’s count !”

Nicholas only stares at him, transfixed on the brightness of his face, on the mole on the side of his cheek, on how his dimples appeared when he laughed, and how the hair curled beautifully on his forehead, how he wished he could run a hand through it, and pull, how he aches, and yearns—

“3, 2—“

He doesn’t know what higher force sends him the strength to actually do it, but before Danny can shout out the last digit he’s holding him in his arms, hands on the side of his face, breathless, asking him, begging—

Are you sure ?

Can I do this ?

Saying,

Can I be yours ?

2009 rings, and Danny’s lips are on his, and his arms are thrown around his shoulders, and the fireworks outside are nothing compared to the burst of euphoria in his chest, and he’s so sure he could die right now.

“That’s a pretty sick resolution,” Danny whispers against his mouth, eyes crinkling with glee. “I quite like it.”

“Yeah ?” Nicholas replies, choking up a little, “I like it too.”

“I like you.”

“Me too,” he smiles back, and how the blue and gold of his irises burns bright, and how beautiful he is, the other man thinks, how he wants to steal his smile and keep it against him forever, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Danny laughs, nuzzling his nose, “have been since day one.”

“I’m a little late, aren’t I ?”

“‘s alright. We got there in the end, aye ?”

“Aye,” Nicholas coos, kissing him again. “I’m not letting you go.”

“I’d hope not.”

The room is loud, full, and suffocating. But in their corner, near the crisps and the olives, they’ve both found their own piece of Paradise.

It’s sweeter than any Cornetto.

#hot fuzz #hot fuzz (2007)#nicholas angel #danny butterman #angelbutter #three flavours cornetto #the cornetto trilogy #Drabble

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scrapheapchallenge · 6 months

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"Just Neil Gaiman being wholesome again" but also Rob Wilkins being extra wholesome too! On Tuesday evening I went to this talk https://living-knowledge-network.co.uk/library/the-worlds-of-terry-pratchett By Rob Wilkins and Neil Gaiman.

Neil was co-author of "Good Omens" with Sir Terry Pratchett, and they collaborrated on many other books together here and there, just not sharing co-author status too - read this article for more info: http://www.elizabethcallaway.net/good-omens-stylometry?fbclid=IwAR2hVnd8aTYFBZqphk8SzYt8j1NucBl5mUxbDscF3kljQ9Bpuq2leUW2S6I Confirmed by Neil yet again on Tuesday.

Rob Wilkins was Terry's PA, and now manages his estate, as his representative. He also wrote "A life in footnotes" - the official biography of Terry.

On Tuesday evening, I arrived at the British Library very early, and was guided up to the Piggot Theatre lobby to wait by a security person, so I was there before anyone else, including Rob. All the staff were absolutely lovely. When they noticed there weren't any gaps for wheelchair spaces in the audotorium, facilities engineers were summoned and made short work of unbolting a set of 3 seats to make a wheelchair space for myself and another wheelchair user who turned up later.

Then Rob turned up, carrying a mannequin, Terry's leather jacket, scarf, hat, and other stuff.

Now the email we recieved before the event said that Neil wouldn't have time to do any signings that evening, although they didn't mention Rob, so I asked him if he might be able to sign my copy of "a life in footnotes".

He happily said yes, and once he'd sorted his things out, he came back out to chat to me for a while and OMG he was the loveliest person EVER!

I gave him a print I'd signed of my ink portrait of the Bentley, and some stickers of my other Bentley illustrations, and he said "WAIT! I have presents for you too! I'll be right back!" Then rushed off to the green room. (Below are the ink portrait, then I gave him small stickers of the "this is fine" flaming Bentley - which I was also wearing on my t-shirt that day - and my most recent digital portrait of Crowley and the Bentley - and yes it is all hand drawn, not a photo manipulation, feel free to zoom in. A couple of years separate these 3 drawings and I'd been working hard on learning photorealism.)

He came back and gave me Terry and Neil badges, which he explained you only get if you meet them in person. I had met Terry (and incidentally Rob as well) years ago at a book signing, plus I met Neil, albeit briefly, on Tuesday as he came through the lobby and said hello.

He was happy to chat and especially about cars, which he also loves. He confirmed that I was 100% correct about the "2 whole cars and a cab for CGI" between seasons 1 and 2, and that the interior colour change is nothing to do with plot it legitimately is just continuity errors if they forgot to cover the new Bentley's new seats with covers matching the old Bentley's orange ones. (The cab only also has orange leather seats).

When I told him about this year's RREC (Rolls Royce Enthusiast's Club - also for Bentleys) Christmas card design, he was delighted, and asked to take a photo of the image I had of one on my phone because he wants to order some as well.

I showed him my re-usable coffee cup from "give me coffee or give me death" which we were given on the set tour, and which I had Sir Derek Jacobi sign at a comic con the other week. Rob thought that was wonderful, and then did something extra sweet...

He asked me "if you're ok trusting me with this for a little while, would you like me to sneak it back to the green room to ask Neil to sign it for you as well? Then I'll come and find you afterwards to give it back again."

HELL YES! I couldn't believe it! I hadn't wanted to ask because we'd been told that Neil wouldn't be signing things due to lack of time, so for Rob to spontaneously make the offer was not something I was expecting. He did also take my Occult Edition of Good Omens to ask if Neil would sign that as well.

I didn't fully expect that he would, and was prepared for him to come back later and say "sorry he was too busy", and that would have been fine, but no: Neil DID sign them both!

Neil writing "burn this (big fancy) book!" was a spin on how Terry used to sign copies of Good Omens: "burn this book" - which is actually embossed on the rear cover of this edition.

Later, Rob also signed it for me, as did Colin Smythe, who was Terry's publisher and lifelong friend.

We were sitting at the front, only about 7 or 8 feet from Neil, the talk was wonderful, we laughed, we cried a little, and Terry was with us in the form of the mannequin with his jacket, scarf, and hat (which are also on set of Good Omens at all times while filming, and also even during rehersals/table reads - so he's always present.)

Rob is honestly so bloody wholesome, he was hugging a lot of people, and ever so sweet, taking time to chat to other people as the venue filled up, and stayed behind to sign things and talk to other folks as well.

I also got to chat to Dr Pat Harkin and Dr Jan Clarke, who were the researchers who spent months of hard work tracking down Terry's lost short stories in the national archives in Boston Spa, which were released in a compliation book "A stroke of the pen." If I'd known that they'd be there as well, I'd have taken that book and asked them to sign it too. They were in the audience and sitting next to us with Colin Smythe. I was truly surrounded by Pratchett royalty, and everyone, without exception, was SO friendly and lovely.

I had done two prints of the Bentley drawing and stickers, for Rob and for Neil, in case I got chance to give them to them, and when I gave Rob his, I said I had some for Neil as well, and again, he OFFERED to take them to give them to Neil for me.

Although I didn't get chance to thank Neil in person, I wanted to reach out to let him know I was very grateful for his kindness as well, so sent him a message via his "ask" channel, although not with an expectaction of reply - just for him to see privately and know that I was appreciative. But he chose to actually publish it as a public reply, which was lovely of him. I hadn't wanted to thank him publicly just in case he didn't want others to know that he had signed some items after all. I'd been expecting to have to wait until he did a proper public appearance with signing at a comic con or something - although with him living in the USA, not the UK, I may have had to wait a long time.

So I guess the answer is to getting an autograph - turn up 2 hours early, and be very VERY nice and polite to Rob Wilkins 😅 (but also don't expect results - I didn't, it just sort of happened).

#goodomens #Neil Gaiman #Rob Wilkins #Crowley #Crowley's Bentley #good omens fanart #Good Omens Art

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jumpscaregoose · 3 months

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how I make my manga patches: a shitty tutorial

figured I'd make a post explaining my technique for making the patches I put on my hororen jacket and other projects. because they're cool and more people should do them

here's how I turned this panel into this patch for my hao pants I'm working on:

you will need:

fabric to paint on (I'd recommend a white fabric without a lot of texture. I'm pretty sure the one I use is some kind of polycotton blend?)

basic sewing supplies (needle, pins, thread)

a laptop/tablet you can lie flat on your desk OR a lightbox + printer

pencil (the softer and darker the better, I use 6b)

thin paintbrush

acrylic paint

fabric medium (optional)

thick gloves (if you're tracing off a touchscreen you WILL need these)

pinking shears (optional)

scissors

decide the scale of your patch. for this project I made a digital mockup and then measured how big I wanted it to be on my project. I settled on 3 inches wide

download the image you plan to trace and either zoom in to the right size or scale and print it (I don't own a lightbox myself but using it should provide a similar effect to my method.

lay out your screen or lightbox flat on your workspace and put your fabric over the image (I'd also recommend ironing your fabric before this if you can). If your fabric is thin enough you should be able to see the lines through it.

this is where you want to put on your gloves if you're tracing off a touchscreen. without gloves, your hands can sometimes cause the screen to move or zoom in while you're tracing.

now you just need to trace the image onto the fabric with your pencil. this is the absolute WORST PART and to minimize suckage I recommend

checking you're aligned with your previous marks before you make a new one

tensing your fabric along the grain or crossgrain with your hand as you draw, so it doesn't shift (don't fuck with the bias that'll cause problems)

taking your tracing OFF the screen to add the finer details (tracing directly is most important for the big shapes and faces)

using a soft, dark pencil to avoid damaging your screen (you can also add a sheet of transparent plastic between the fabric and the screen, but I've found this makes the fabric slip more)

shading in the flat black areas so you don't forget them later

here's my penciling after finishing on the screen and fully finished

4. now it's time to paint over the pencil

I use a cheap, probably terrible acrylic paint and mix it with a textile/fabric medium. This makes the paint flow better and raises its longevity on the fabric. It's not necessary to use, especially if you don't plan to wash your finished project (acrylic paint is plastic once it dries, it shouldn't chip off too easily).

then you just. paint over the pencil. take you time and steady your hand on the desk. if you're worried about smudges work top-bottom and left-right/right-left depending on your dominant hand.

here's mine fully painted. once the paint is dry, I heat seal it with an iron (and a pressing cloth, so if it sticks I don't have hao fused to my iron forever)

5. cut out the patch. I like to use pinking shears to reduce future fraying, but if you don't have those you can either manually cut notches or fuck it we ball a straight edge.

then you just pin and sew it to your project. boom done

now you can make as many as you want and add them to everything!

I've used this technique for:

aaaaallllllllllllll the patches on my hororen jacket (took FOREVER don't try to hand sew through SUEDE kids)

tie-on pockets (EVERYONE MAKE THESE THEY'RE SO HANDY)

a cell phone pocket on my cozmez ita bag

painting my favourite manga pages directly onto a skirt (wip because that fabric is a nightmare)

you don't need to just stick to manga panels either, anything works as long as it has clean, defined lines (but manga/comic panels are definitely easiest). if you look at some of the patches on my jacket you can see I've used coloured screenshots and official art and just traced over them in black. would recommend colour correcting images like that to make the lines easier to see, though

I love this technique because I love dressing up for cons but I don't enjoy making cosplays themselves. so I just make an insane jacket wear it to a con and then wear it in regular ass life. shoutout to the three people who recognized my jacket at fanexpo toronto last august. highlight of my life.

#I don't know what to tag this as you get it raw #I don't think anyone cares either so #if you use this please show me!!! I want to see!!!

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queersilcozine · 1 year

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LINK DIRECTLY TO THE APPLICATION FORM

LINK TO OUR LINK-TREE

[Image ID: a set of 2 images, all with a black background and golden art deco graphics in the four corners. The first one features an altered screenshot from Arcane - Silco sitting in his office with his profile to the camera. Behind him is the large circular window. An inclusive LGBTQ flag is superimposed behind the window and colourful rays of the rainbow spread over the image in low opacity. Golden text in an art deco font reads: APPLICATIONS ARE NOW OPEN. The rest of the images feature white art deco font text that read the rules of the Zine. The full text can be found below. The last image features the SILCO QUEER ZINE logo in gold and rainbow colours and art deco font on the bottom centre. /end if ID]

FULL TEXT:

APPLICATIONS ARE NOW OPEN

The moderators of the QUEER SILCO ZINE invite you to participate!

Today, our online application forms are officially open. If you'd like to partake in this project, please follow one of the links in the description below. If you need any form of assistance or additional information, DM us on Twitter, Tumblr, Discord, or Instagram.

In the description of this post are attached two links (on Instagram, the links are in the account's profile). One leads you directly to the online application form, the other to a collection of compiled information - Zine's rules and conditions (which you will need to review before joining) and their PDF version, links to our social media, and the link to the aforementioned online form. You must read and agree to the rules and fill out the application form in order to partake in the Zine.

Applications will be open from the 6th of June till the 6th of July. The creation process will span from mid-July to October, and the finished zine will be released digitally for free.

For further questions, contact us on any of our social media.

NOTES:

The form site is, unfortunately, in French. you have to click on the dark blue button with the > arrow at the bottom ("Page suivante >") to get to the next page (there are three to fill), then the purple one ("Soumettre") at the end to submit.

The form will ask you to submit an example of your work. This example doesn't have to be current, Arcane or Silco related, but it should represent you and ideally should contain some for of queer themes. This example is NOT a quality check, it only serves to help the mods get better idea of who you are and what you make.

The form will ask you to tell us what will you be creating. This doesn't have to be a full, coherent summary or a pitch, we would only like to know the approximate extend of your contribution. Your idea can change later as well, it isn't the final draft.

The Zine's Mod team will provide you with a list of voluntary Prompts and inspiration. These can be used but aren't mandatory and serve only to help you get inspired.

#arcane #silco #silco arcane #silco fanart #silco fanfic #silco league of legends #lgbtq #lesbian #gay #bisexual #trans #queer #aromantic #asexual #nonbinary #zine

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smalltimidbean · 3 months

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Out of curiosity, are there any clones you've wanted to make but haven't because you can't figure out a design for them you like?

-bee anon 🐝

An interesting question, Bee Anon! And the answer is yes, definitely

That kinda goes for any character I want to make, but specifically for clones it's a little easier bc they all have a 'template' they fit into (either Tall Fake Peppino, Wide Fake Peppino or Peppiclone) and then add/edit features where desired

But there are a lot where I have the idea in my head, but they won't come out on the (digital) paper - so they currently remain as concepts in my brain with vague appearances and colours, even if they are listed in the masterlist and I count them as characters

Like I have mentioned Turmeric at least twice before, but they do not have an 'official' design yet bc they lean into the more body horror side and - besides needing to be in a certain mood for body horror - I can't seem to get them how I see them in my mind - I have an idea and an inspiration/reference, but I just have not been able to do it jkfgdkfdg

Some other clones like Cinnamon Stick and Mixed Herbs I've had ideas for months, but I have just never got them drawn - and other clones like Cas do get drawn, but then I get stuck on their colours or what patterns/markings I want them to have

More recently the kangaroo clone gave me some trouble bc I did not know which type of clone to make him (I was debating on a midway between a Fake Peppino and a Peppiclone, but then what would I tag them as kjfgkjfdg), and one of a kangaroo's defining features are their feet, and I tend to leave the clone legs untouched, so it was weird to give them jacked kangaroo legs jkfdgk - but once I got the idea for the huge tail, then it was like oh!!! Not fully a kangaroo any more (now part snake), but I am happy with the design

Even more recently, as in last night, I was working on one of the suggested clones, and it is more of a joke suggestion (the asker even said they were gonna suggest it ironically, but they wanna see what I'd do), so idk if I wanna completely lean into the joke or not - and they're another plantpino, which seem to give me the most trouble, bc I don't enjoy drawing plants that much kjgfdkjdf (I am gonna work on them today, bc I think I have an idea, wish me luck jkdgkj)

That all being said, most get their designs officially at some point! They might not be how I initially imagined them, but I can always redesign them later!

This has been another Bean Spiel, thank you (silly)

#bean talks too much #thank you for the question!#I hope my answer made any sorta sense jhkgfkfgs

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seventeenlovesthree · 9 months

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And a follow up ask: how would you describe the differences and similarities between Koushiro and Iori (as they are my 2 favorites of the Adventure 01 and 02 kids)

Since we were already talking about Iori's traditional upbringing vs. Koushirou's self-imposed correctness causing both of them to be overly polite, I will try to dig into this a little deeper. I was looking for a screenshot of them together, but then I found this pic, which I've never seen before, so I'm gonna use that one:

About their similarities:

Since Iori is meant to be the heir of the Crest of Knowledge, they're both initially shown to be equally curious people. They both wonder about the whereabouts of the Digital World, what the Chosen Children business is all about - and that's where Koushirou himself notices Iori being a great kouhai for himself, so he offers him advice and guidance whenever he needs it. So yes - the easiest comparison to make is that they're both smart and coming up with ideas that help the others along.

On a purely physical level, when they're initially introduced, they're among the youngest AND shortest members of their respective groups. And it is yet to be seen whether they'll actually surpass any other of the male characters in height.

They're both not only very polite in their speech and approach patterns overall, but also highly responsible, studious, goal-oriented and resourceful and want to do things right - to the point of losing themselves in details and (self) doubts, when things are not going according to plan.

They both have strong moral codes, are very kind at heart and highly opinionated; they definitely know what they don't like (and are more or less able to put their feet down about it, but sometimes they get overlooked by others, unfortunately).

Despite usually being level-headed, they can both get snappy/angry/witty (read: EMOTIONAL) if someone annoys them/grinds their gears.

In regards to the former point: Something they have in common I wish didn't exist to that extent is that official art tends to depict them as "too emotionless" - which definitely contradicts their multi-faceted personalities in the anime. Yes, as mentioned, they are more level-headed and calm, less outgoing than other characters - but they can have their cheerful moments with the people closest to them (including their Digimon partners and characters such as Taichi and Takeru).

Family and their bonds mean more to them than one might assume at first, since they are generally more closed-off about their private issues.

Also very similar in choosing simple, work/school-compliant clothing (read: shirt, pants, tie, nothing TOO colourful, even if they have preferences in their colours being either more muted or autumn-based).

About their differences:

As mentioned above, they are both highly curious in nature - however, when it comes to the things they want to figure out, their approaches are a little different. While Koushirou approaches everything in a mostly rational manner, Iori's questions are a little more philosophical. While he tries to be rational too, his black-white thinking tends to actually cause him to be more emotional than he'd like to. (Which shouldn't be surprising if you encounter artificially created Digimon that destruct everything mindlessly while asking about the meaning of life... Granted, Koushirou approached an entity like that too, but he ALSO tried to answer to that one more rationally...)

Despite their polite attitudes, the respective origins of their behaviours are a little different. Koushirou's politeness was self-imposed, he forced himself to act like "the perfect son" towards his adoptive parents, not knowing why he was adopted, who his biological parents were, who he even was, and so he kept a distance to everyone else, not knowing how to interact or let alone understand others when he didn't even understand himself. When he reconciled with his adoptive parents, they let him know that he could be what- and whovever he wanted to be and he's still be loved. While Iori's biological father had passed away as well, he was mainly raised in a very traditional household, being taught the customs of kendo - and developing a very black-and-white-ish moral code at first. He may have a hard time understanding other's reasonings if they don't align well with his own - but that also applies to Koushirou if somebody is not acting in reasonable ways. So something I would assign to both of them again is that they slowly but steadily have to learn to pick up cues and to be more compassionate and less rational due to their experiences. Basically - the people they willingly surround themselves with FORCE them both to think outside the box naturally.

They're both overthinkers, mainly keep their emotional states to themselves - however, if Iori bursts out, he absolutely DOES burst out. Koushirou on the other hand is more prone to ramble and talk about non-emotional things he actually wants others to know about, whereas Iori is not that generally chatty at all.

Despite "The Beginning" suggesting otherwise, Iori used to be depicted as being not very computer-crazy - he had a computer, yes, but Miyako was the one who fixed it a lot and used laptop usually, paralleling Koushirou more closely in that regard.

Speaking of "The Beginning", it can be assumed that Iori is more athletic at this point in time in comparison to Koushirou - not to call the latter an office-dweller, especially since he DOES coordinate the Chosen Children business and may participate in that as well. But Iori, despite studying hard to become a lawyer, is definitely actively putting in the energy to stay physically fit as well with kendo training.

Tl;dr, I'm not sure if that makes sense and I hope I didn't forget anything crucial.

#my two cents #meta #koushirou izumi #koushiro izumi #iori hida #izzy izumi #cody hida #digimon #digimon adventure 02

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quasar-concept · 6 months

Text

So, about a year ago I attempted to start up commissions, and then was unable due to some technical difficulties.

I am pleased to announce that those technical difficulties have been overcome and I will soon be offering digital art commissions!!

I will be making an "official" commission post before I actually open them up, but for now here's a tentative option + price list!

Headshot Coloured: $20

Bust Coloured: $25

Full Body Sketch: $35

Coloured Full Body Pose: $50