#the colors and painting texture are so stunning

[xcziel]

^^^ credit to this 💙gorgeous💙 pic from @moonlovingvampire for driving me back to the palettes because i love everything about it (including the moon lamp *eyes it enviously*)

under the cut, the original suggested colors -

i know it looks for "accent" shades but COME ON

all those soft subtle organic hues and it grabs ... black, and the yellow of the one light in the background? for sure they are contrasts i guess

when i see a glowing moon at twilight it definitely evokes images of ... bees??? warning signs? crime scene tape? lol

#palettes #too good to just admire passively thank you for this it's stunning #like moon sky greenery wood water stone (it think that's granite or similar) and *light* #just everything visually - but also mentally emotionally - satisying to look at #fantastic composition as well - you are so right to be proud #god i love how the moon lamp looks - i keep almost getting one for myself but other things take precedence :/ #your plant looks healthy too - all of mine are either going gangbusters with little input from me or like deathly unhappy #the colors are just SO GOOD #however i will mention again how gray is just the weirdest fucking thing in digital shading #like look here: every shade of gray just glows and has subtle hues hidden in it #but when you pull out the individual shades they are SO flat and boring unless you are very careful and picky #like select the wrong area and instead of the depth and luminosity you get like ... minecraft brick or 8-bit videogame 'castle' #just the strangest thing - and it throws all the other colors off bc it looks so artificial #i guess in nature nothing is ever really a flat gray so in the human eye it hits the uncanny valley easily #and the only other time you see unrelieved flat gray is like the painted walls of institutions or whatever #for sure there are lovely soft grays but somehow without the benefit of like ... textural variation on here it's a tough selection #there's your useless observation for the day hah #seriously though thank you again for the photo - it triggered a part of my brain i haven't really been using lately

[green-with-envy-phandom-event]

The Final Scores are in!

(lines by @ovytia-art, @jamiethebeeart, @maebird-melody, @hannahmanderr, @dashing-through-ecto, @minnowmarsh, @dashing-through-ecto)

Congratulations Red Team for filling some very big shoes and taking home the gold!

We did it, Guys~! Green With Envy 2024 is now officially over! Thank you so much to everyone who participated!

@echo-does-art, @half-deadmagicperson, @goodfish-bowl, @ectoblastfromthepast, @furiarossa, @fuyuthefoxwriter, @brothebro, amazing work!

You managed to submit 219 colors in one month!

Pre-Bonus Points Scores

Red - 1832 Blue - 1409 Yellow - 1524 Brown - 703 Green - 109 Purple - 307 Pink - 304

Orange - 347 Black - 297 White - 191

Post-Bonus Points Scores

Red - 2507 Blue - 1920 Yellow - 2145 Brown - 830 Green - 154 Purple - 444 Pink - 434 Orange - 457 Black - 387 White - 256

--------

If anyone wants to color line art from the 2024 event, these lines are now open for anyone to color, just make sure to read the notes the line artists left you and credit them when you post a color! Last year's (2023's) stuff can also be found here.

MVP’s for Bonus Points Across All Teams Under the Cut!

The top 3 bonus point earners overall were:

@jamiethebeeart from yellow team with 230 points

@ecto-stone from blue team with 194 points

@half-deadmagicperson from red team with 164 points

Here's how well colorists scored with the Mods for slower, but more detailed colors! Each color of this type that we could spot earned that participant 5 additional points!

These people all did Palette Challenges, earning them 3 additional points per entry!

@lavendarlily x9, @craftybookworms x6, and @half-deadmagicperson x1

These people colored in bulk, with every 25 pieces netting them an additional 10 points!

@nanaarchy x2, @fuyuthefoxwriter x2, @half-deadmagicperson x2, @reading-wanderer x2, @jamiethebeeart x2, @balshumetsbaragouin x1, @echo-does-art x1, @furiarossa x1, @ecto-stone x1, @marzfartz x1, @moonfoxgazer x1, @audaciousanonj x1, and @sherry-a-h x1

These 11 people successfully poached points!

Yellow Team @reading-wanderer got x4, @moonfoxgazer got x2, and @marzfartz got x2 For a total of 8 Poaches and 160 points Red Team @half-deadmagicperson got x3, @goodfish-bowl got x1, @echo-does-art got x1, and @brothebro got x1 For a total of 6 Poaches and 120 points Blue Team @ecto-stone got x2, and @sherry-a-h got x1 For a total of 3 Poaches and 60 points Brown Team @audaciousanonj got x1 For 20 points Orange Team @craftybookworms got x1 For 20 points

These people had some extra creative colors, which each earned 5 additional points!

@lavendarlily for their animated lightning @craftybookworms for their creative use of the empty countertop @minnowmarsh for their 3D papercraft @raaorqtpbpdy for spending a very long time adding in sheen effects and using multiple types of coloring tools @raaorqtpbpdy for their elaborate mixed media background with the main art as a 3d floating element @echo-does-art drew and colored all the additional knives @brothebro for their creative punchline to the meme @ecto-stone for trying the hidden transparency trick for first time @ecto-stone for another transparency trick @ecto-stone for this lovely gif worm @moonfoxgazer for the outrageously cursed and elaborate OC Slackjaw born of Susi's lines @moonfoxgazer for their creative punchline to the meme @furiarossa for the above and beyond body and fur texture added to Susi's lines, paired with an amazing background @furiarossa for coloring the lines to look like a statue, and adding a ficlet inspired by the color @ventisettestars for this time intensive Hades coloring style @dreamwraith's VERY time-intensive traditional oil painting @marzfartz for their traditional watercolor with a really nice background @marzfartz for another lovely watercolor @ectoblastfromthepast for their super nice digital piece that took them 3 days of intense focus @summerssixecho for their scanned magazine digital collage @jamiethebeeart for this stunning digital piece that has such a lovely added background @jamiethebeeart for adding basically a whole story to the background of their color @jamiethebeeart for adding a background that just really fit the vibes of the line art perfectly @jamiethebeeart for their portal accident animation @pokerust for their papercraft @goodfish-bowl for their amazing paint pour background @sherry-a-h for their diamond painted furby

Thanks so much everyone for all your hard work to make this such a successful event and we hope to see you again next year~!

Looking for the 2024 Masterpost? Looking for links to last year's stuff? 2023 Free-To-Color Line Art 2023 Event Decal 2023 Masterpost

#danny phantom #greenwithenvy2024 #2024 color #final score #2024 winners #points

[evelyn-art-05]

i am so in love with how you draw fabric! all the colors! it’s stunning. would you be willing to share some of your process?

Of course!! :]

First off, start with a flat color (we're going with yellow), and then using a slightly more saturated and darker color, make a gradient on your clothing going from the bottom up. I prefer to use the Tamar painting brush in procreate for this!

Next, take a pencil brush (or whatever brush you prefer, I used the 6B pencil in procreate) and using that same darker color, block in your darkest areas. Don't worry about being perfect! Take another more saturated color, this time only Slightly darker than your base, and block in the rest of your shaded areas. This will give you clothing item more depth! Be sure that you know what direction your lighting is coming from!

Now, we neaten things up! Use a blending brush (I use the Stucco paint brush) to soften the edges of areas where the lighting is softer, and take your pencil brush and neaten up any areas you would like. This can also involve adding lighter spots like I did, using the base color in the gradient area.

Now into reflective lighting! This is assuming that the clothing is reflecting light from objects around it. If it isn't, you can really just add a bit of warm blue, and be done with this step. If it is, take some warm blue and, using a textured brush (Tamar brush for me), lightly brush it over your main shaded areas! I am going to demonstrate reflective lighting with a more intense lighting, so if you're looking for that, take a brighter, highly saturated color and place it on the Edges of your darkest shading spots. With clothing, if it is thin enough, light will pass through to shaded areas, casting a more warm and satured hue.

For the actual brighter light, make another layer above your color layer and turn it to an Add/Addition layer. Using your base clothing color and a textured brush (Tamar) just lightly go over the spots that get the most light! It will seem very bright, so turn the opacity for that layer down to 35%, or adjust it however you like!

#gonna add more!! #sorry its so long lmao #i like to be detailed when explaing things fidhdk #eve answers

[hometoursandotherstuff]

According to the description, the current owner loves and cherishes this 1968 mid-century modern home in Fairmont, West Virginia, and it shows. Wonder why he's selling it. 4bds, 4ba, $729K.

Very different entrance. It has wide, gray, plank flooring and stick walls, which you never see in MCMs. Also, look at the simulated worn finish on the doors.

The home is very chic. On the exterior wall is a sign that says "Lava House," so I'm assuming that the fireplace is made from lava rock. Note the white board that says, "Welcome to our Beautiful Home."

Love the black & white kitchen, especially the blacksplash, counters, and ceiling. I'm so bored with the HGTV designers choosing basick pure white counters. This is stunning.

Here's a little bar in the corner with a rock wall and artsy ceiling. The window wall looks like a gold mesh and the colorful drapes really set it off.

The dining area has the same ceiling as the kitchen's but it's painted white. There's a nice MCM colored glass panel in the wall, also. So many touches, like the herring bone wall and shelving.

This is amazing- a wall of old books, moss and flowers. That looks so lovely. I've seen this before, but never with plants.

The walls in the primary bedroom are so interesting. Every one is different.

This home is a work of art. It even has a gray toilet.

Huge secondary bedroom with 3 stripes on the walls and ceilings.

Now, there's a very 60s mod mural.

Look at the shower in this bath. HGTV would shit.

The rooms in this home are so big. The family room floor looks like it's cement. The walls look like they have a bamboo or straw paper, and how cool are those pocket doors?

I don't think I've ever seen this much texture in any other home.

Look at how fun and bright the 2nd kitchen is.

These owners were not afraid to experiment and go bold, and it paid off.

The lot is a little over an acre, but the yard is private and fenced in.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1662-Fairmont-Ave-Fairmont-WV-26554/22729697_zpid/

#mid century modern homes #MCM architecture #colorful homes #houses #house tours #home tour

[cooketimm]

Hardboiled #10-25 (1990-98) cover artwork by Bruce Timm

Interview from Cool Stuff Magazine #1 (1995):

Gary Lovisi: Much of your work is characterized by raw, intense energy and action, or beautiful women in stylish, dangerous settings. Some is obviously influenced by the pulps.

Bruce Timm: I’m big pulp fan, have been since the early 70s, when I started reading Doc Savage and Avenger reprints. I can’t really say how they’ve influenced my artwork much, except when doing pulp-homage stuff like the Bob Price books. But I do sometimes wish I was born decades earlier so I could have worked for some of the old pulps, which was why it was so much fun doing the Price stuff, and the «mock 50s» paperback covers for your Gryphon Books.

The hero pulps — Doc Savage, The Spider, The Shadow, etc — did have a big impact on my approach to the Batman cartoons. It’s something I tried to inject into the show from early on, the atmosphere, danger and illicit excitement, and especially that Norvell Page-type feeling of impending doom — the «doomed city» mood. It’s also why I set the sense in a timeless, 40s-styled world of big cars, padded shoulders, gangsters, shadowy streets, etc. I only wish we’d gone farther with it.  

For instance, my original version of Batman himself was actually close to the Shadow: rarely seen close-up, speaking in short, clipped phrases, more mysterious, literally. I wanted to play him cold and remote, almost unhuman. But the network and our various story editors would have none of that!  «We need to humanize him», «He needs to have a sense of humor», «We need to more about Bruce Wayne, the person», etc! Whereas I could care less about Bruce Wayne! He’s much more fascinating if you don’t know what he’s thinking, or what drives him.

A few «Shadowy» touches did survive. Batman is rarely seen be the public, almost never on TV. Even when dealing with the police, he’s usually off in shadows conferring with Commissioner Gordon only. And when he’s in the Batcave, he’s almost always in costume. My way of saying he’s Batman, not the other guy, not Bruce Wayne. Like Lamon Cranston, his true, «legal» identity is a facade.

I’ d love to do straight-ahead pulp hero adaptation someday. Doc or The Shadow or The Spider, either in comics or animation, without the senseless updating and over-explaining «character development» like in the Alec Baldwin-Shadow-fiasco-film.  

Gary Lovisi: Your stunning covers for my Hardboiled mag are very popular with everyone who sees them. What are your feelings on hardboiled crime-related art?

Bruce Timm: It’s hard, actually, to define «crime-fiction» art. There’s pulp crime-fiction art, and digest crime-fiction art, both of which cross over with paperback crime-fiction art. Basically, I’m a fan of good illustration. Period. Regardless of subject matter. Composition, emotionally intensity, color and lighting effects are what I look for. And pretty girls, of course!   

My favorite pulp crime artist is H. J. Ward, hands down. Gorgeous gals in twisty curvy poses, painted in luscious, creamy, wet-on-wet oil technique. My favorite paperback artists include Robert McGinnis, Robert Maguire, and Mitchell Hooks, the usual suspects.

My approach to the Hardboiled covers is different from my earlier «homage» work. When the covers were black and white, I used to experiment with different b&w textures, coquille board, zip-a-tone, xeroxed newsprint, whatever worked. Now that I’m doing them in color, I’m trying to make them as exciting and eye-catching as possible, with loud color, sexy gals, exaggerated action, and simple, graphic, almost cartoony styling.

#bruce timm #pulp #cover #cover art #interview

[k-hippie]

...

CHAMPIGNAC World ( aka Sims de Nimes ) is coming in few days ;)

If we put the fantastic gameplay apart, ALL Sims 3 Worlds are about AMBIANCE ... and good Sims 3 Worlds are more about ambiance than everything else ;) It's a quest which doesn't end :D

Champignac ( codename : Sims de Nimes ) is a project we began a long ago ( 2018 ) and left rest in a corner of our CAW files. Paused, but never forgotten. Frankly, it was long due and time to finish.

Champignac is a French true suburbia living world based on Champs-les-Sims but cleaned up of its vacation stuff ... So you will get everything of a Maxis standard World ( the ice cream truck, the university guy ) and of course the ability to go to every vacation world ( including Champs-les-Sims )

We redid almost everything : the grass textures, the pavement and road textures, etc ... We added richness to this world with singular and very interesting stuff ...

80 lots are available. Both community and residential. We redid the native lots almost from the ground and used them for something else, except Place des Oliviers which kept its initial function and placement.

We used Votenga @ MTS who converted many things from Sims Medieval such as old castle tower we used a lot or the fantastic St Gall Monastery from efolger997 @ MTS we transformed a bit to get an incredible Winery lot ( yes, there is a Winery ... gosh, this is France after all ) ;)

We used lots from Sims 3 creators and we made many others with great care and as low as possible cheating build options ... We are not bold at Sims houses creation but we tried to make as diverse as possible in our constructions, but always staying in the guide of specific South of France style and design. Anyway, this will be to you to add your own vision and architectural art to Champignac ! ;)

ALL 80 lots are French flavored ( red terracotta roofs, white stone ) to get a unique style for a unique world :)

Nestled in the heart of the charming South of France, Champignac is a town adorned with the alluring flair of Mediterranean culture. As the Sims step into this picturesque town, they are immediately enveloped by the warmth of the sun, and the vibrant colors that paint the streets ...

No false antic stuff here. No false image from the 60's ... It is a fully contemporary world but with its own old stuff. Champignac boasts a unique blend of history and modernity all together :)

The ambiance is one of relaxation and leisure, inspired by the leisurely lifestyle of the South of France. Here, residents take the time to savor the pleasures of life, indulging in delicious cuisine, delightful conversations under the shade of trees. The town's bustling markets offer an array of fresh produce, colorful fabrics, enticing the Sims to immerse themselves in the lively atmosphere.

With its unique blend of history, culture, and natural beauty, Champignac offers the Sims a captivating and enriching experience. From the stunning architecture to the delectable cuisine, every aspect of this town reflects the South of France's intoxicating charm.

Many more details to come with the coming download post ...

So ... Stay tuned ;) ( and always safe )

blackgryffin

#k hippie #sims 3 world #sims 3 build #the sims 3 #sims 3 #sims 3 gameplay #sims 3 cc #sims 3 worlds #sims 3 custom content #champignac #sims de nimes #champs les sims

[eoieopda]

[visual content blog recommendations]

we see fic recs all the time, but i don’t think i’ve ever seen rec lists for visual content (gif/art/gfx/etc.) creators! they’ve been dealing with a bunch of shit lately between reposts, tumblr garbage, etc., so i wanna shout-out some favorites. thank you for keeping us fed!!

disclaimer: this is not an exhaustive list!! if you have recommendations of your own, please feel free to expand on this yourself and/or drop some of your faves in the replies for others to see. self-promo is always welcome here, too ✨ p.s. some of these are recent finds for me, so pls expect to see more of them on my blog. eta: i will be adding more as i go!!

[bts]

@yooboobies — réka’s gif sets are *chef’s kiss* and the ART? omg. the talent!!! 😭 we simply have to simp.

@cordiallyfuturedwight — apart from being one of the coolest/funniest people i’ve found on army tumblr, i am a kayla stan because the niche themes for her gif sets (ex. bangtan turtlenecks series) feel like they’re made 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 me 👏🏻 even though they absolutely aren’t, lmao.

@hopeinthebox — the bts as reductress headline + incorrect bangtan series are probably my favorite pieces of content on the entire internet??? also, lizzy is absolutely gd hilarious. tags are 11/10. a blessing upon my dash.

@kimtaegis — i’m not visually artistic enough to say this in a way that makes sense, but annie’s gifs are just… stunning? like, the colors? idk about the process that goes into that, but i imagine it takes a lot of time/finesse to be this vivid.

@kithtaehyung — ryen is the renaissance man of army tumblr, fr. not only can she write (like!!!) but she’s multi-faceted and insanely creative with her graphic design. i want her to tutor me, lmao.

@raplinenthusiasts — ooohhhhh my god. the coloring of their gifs makes my brain go brrrrtttt. this bts x the office set is on my “always reblog” list; i’ll share it every time i come across it.

@heybaetae — this set in particular is on my “always reblog” list, no matter how many times i’ve done so already. also, idk how to describe this, but kelli’s gifs are just…. crispy 🤌🏻 like, so satisfying with the…. texture? filtering? contrast? i’m an idiot re: editing terms, but go peep them and you’ll know what i’m trying to say.

@kth1 — literally who could ever forget maggie’s 100 days of (member) series??? the amount of work that had to go into that? unfathomable.

@jeurias — i want to wallpaper my house and office with their gfx. i’m deadass.

@jinstronaut — emmeline has been doing her “a jin a day while he’s away” series for OVER 250 DAYS NOW. i have never been nor will i ever be able to commit to anything to this level.

[multi/skz/atz/svt/etc.]

@starryoong — do not get me started on starry’s paintings, sketches, etc. because i will never shut up. ever. j’adore 🫠 is also a five-star human being.

@irlvernon — my queue is probably 80% max gifs at any given time. god-tier, fr. a must-follow for carats, as far as i’m concerned.

@vcrnons — incredible gifs, lovely human, and also the writer of some of my favorite svt fics??? we stan.

@yelhsaart — i don’t have any words for how much i love their art so please imagine guttural screaming instead. asdfghjkl!!!

@hizuillu — ……breathtaking. legitimately stunning skz art. like…… i have heart palpitations.

@snug-gyu — THE USE OF COLORS. i’m always a simp for pantone-inspired sets; they just scratch an itch in the back of my brain, and BOY HOWDY, is my brain satisfied 😵‍💫

@yunwooz — again, i have no idea what i’m talking about when it comes to the gif-making process, but the colors!!! the COLORS!!! like, taking a mv that’s not super vivid/is fairly greyscale and bringing it to life? ya know????

@booskwan — you want incredible gifs? they’ve got em. you want stunning gfx? they’ve got em. seriously, idk what to tell you except “pause right here and go follow immediately”.

@haechannabelle — listen……. annabelle’s art style is 😗🤌🏻 (that’s a chef’s kiss). the use of color, and the technique, and and and — ! ALSO, i must mention that she took, like, 50 hours to compile a boycott-friendly k-pop playlist. their vibes are simply impeccable.

rev. 4/10/24

#bts #skz #atz #svt #gfx recs #gif recs #art recs #jade speaks

[hh0320]

☆ 🖇️ 𖥻 ＜꒱

— 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

pairing: art school! hyunjin x fem! reader (+felix)

genre: light enemies to lovers, love at first sight, angst, smut, barista (y/n).

warnings: profanity, jealousy, mature themes, chainsmoker hyunjin, unprotected sex, mentions of death (very brief).

word count: 4.6k

🏷 : @ughbehavior ty sm for your help! 🤍

i. 08:43am

Hyunjin was contemplating murder.

“You’re holding up the line, hotshot,” he deadpanned, burning holes in the dude’s back.

Awful pick up line cut in half, the man of the hour turned around, eyeing Hyunjin’s stoic face.

Well, not so much eyeing, all things considered. More like looking up, intimidation failing to quite…reach. Hyunjin wasn’t the tallest of men, standing at 5’ 10’’, but this guy was a fucking joke.

You couldn’t seriously be entertaining him.

Hyunjin grinned down at him, honeycomb hair falling in his eyes. “Scutter along, playboy.”

The man was too stunned to speak, grabbing his drink and fucking off to wherever he’d come from. Fucking finally.

You weren’t amused, to say the least, but then again, you never were when it came to him. Instead, you glared. Hard.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he smiled warmly at you, hands resting against the counter, arms flexing.

Your gaze dropped to the veins popping through his skin. You blinked, once, twice—ah, there it was, Hyunjin thought.

That rosy blush that painted your cheeks every time he did that—it made him weak inside. He wanted to see you blush for him, but in a different setting entirely.

Specifically, under him—

“What can I get you, Hyunjin? Surely you don’t come just to scare away my customers,” you snarled, wiping the espresso machine.

He ignored your little comment. “And, surely, you, my angel, know my order by now.”

He noticed the way your breath caught at the pet name, enjoying watching you make his coffee, flustered, avoiding his stare.

It had started as harmless teasing; freshman Hyunjin had walked into this small coffee shop, craving an iced americano, sketchbook in hand, excited about starting art school.

And then you’d turned around, and— well. Well. Hyunjin had never been in love, but he was pretty sure that was fucking it. You’d ruined him for any other person.

Too bad you hated his fucking existence. He’d tried his best everyday, to be soft, to tone down that damn sarcasm that always got him in trouble. He left you generous tips, came to hang out after or in between classes, sketching away as he stole glances at you.

You had called him a stalker, and he’d laughed in your face.

“A psychopath, then,” you’d claimed.

“Only for you, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Fuck off.”

He’d smirked at you, arms crossing over his chest. “I’ll take my time breaking you, angel.”

“I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.”

So he did. And, fuck, has it been fun, because he could see, underneath the tough exterior, and adorable mean faces, you secretly loved it. The attention he gave you, his overprotective ness of you, how jealous he’d get when boys would try to flirt with you.

You knew, deep down—you belonged with him. You did ever since he found you, almost two years ago.

Hyunjin carried himself with a sort of elegant arrogance; popularity had come to him easy. His talent was unmatchable—a product of numerous hours of hard work; acrylics, oils, coal, he’d practiced it all, and he can’t not admit that it had been lonely, locked inside a room, thoughts turned into color, painting becoming an undistinguishable extension of him.

Had the brushes and the pencils, and the papers not been there, he wouldn’t have survived. Perhaps, some thought that to be an over exaggeration , but there had been nothing else for him, except this.

The smell of graphite, the hard callouses whispering of softwood—blank, textured paper waiting to be filled. All he’s known.

And then you. His coffee shop girl.

ii. 15:31pm

“Put that out, it’s disgusting,” you commented, picking up after a table that had just left.

Hyunjin sat by the door, smoking, sipping on his coffee. Sun out, and a pleasant wind blowing, his sketchbook lay open on the pavement.

“What do I get if I do?” He dared, turning to you.

You had a beautiful neck, he’d always thought so. Sometimes he thought you did it on purpose; clipping your hair away, exposing it. He wanted to leave open mouthed kisses along the side, just below your ear, traveling down to your collarbone—

Hyunjin looked away, tongue licking against the inside of his cheek, and took a drag of his cigarette.

You mused over his question, tray in hand. “I don’t know, a longer life span, maybe?” You said sarcastically.

He hummed, chuckling. “Tempting as it is, sweetheart, I’ll pass.”

You raised your eyebrows, taking him in. Mid length, soft looking hair, sunglasses hiding, what you know to be dark brown eyes, an oversized t-shirt, and blue jeans, with black vans. Rings adorning long fingers.

Picture perfect boyfriend material.

And yet, he got on your last nerve every time he opened his mouth. You couldn’t figure out what it was, exactly—maybe the relentless flirting, or the smugness of him. But it was a shame, because he—

Well, he was fucking hot.

You shook your head, denying your own thoughts.

“Suit yourself, prince. That’s just what I think,” you went to pass by him, to go inside, but his hand shot out to stop you, grabbing your wrist.

You gasped, trying to balance the tray in your palm again, and looked down at him angrily.

“Are you fucking crazy, Hyunjin? All these glasses could’ve smashed on your head!”

He smiled at that, moving his sunglasses to the top of his head, squinting up at you. His hand was warm against your skin.

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it—

“I would, for you,” he said. “Quit. I would do it for you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you went to pull away from his grasp. He let you, that same smile staying on his full lips.

Your heart skipped several beats, bewildered. He confused the hell out of you, with his pet names, and longing looks. But you couldn’t ignore your mind, telling you what a bad idea it was to let such a person in.

He’d ruin you. There was no getting over someone like Hwang Hyunjin, that you were sure of.

Later, when he brought his empty coffee mug inside, he left a piece of paper underneath it.

Pretending to clean, you avoided him, making sure he was well gone before taking a peak at what it was.

A sketch of you—of your profile, more like, pouring a shot of espresso in a to go cup, colored in innocent pastel markers.

There your heart went again, betraying you. You looked around, before shoving the picture in your bag, dusting off your apron, awkwardly.

You hated Hwang Hyunjin. He was conceited, and pompous—he thought everything revolved around him. Talented, no question, but you wouldn’t fall for it.

You wouldn’t fall for him, period. You absolutely refused.

iii. 09:02am

Lee Felix would be your new coworker, your manager announced, and went back to his receipts.

“Train him good, yeah?”

You remained in your place behind the counter, broom in hand, staring at his blonde head and constellation freckles.

“Hi, (Y/N)!” He waved at you, beaming, as he grabbed an apron, and awaited instructions.

You knew Lee Felix—he was Hyunjin’s best friend, from what you’d gathered. At times, they’d walk in together, one iced americano, one strawberry smoothie, looking like they’d just jumped out of a magazine cover, and it would be very hard not to gape at them the whole time.

Felix was the extreme opposite of Hyunjin; this boy was made of the purest sunlight, the kindest customer you’ve ever had. He always asked how you were, and made small talk with you, as his friend scowled, and stared at you. Felix didn’t give borderline creepy vibes, unlike some—he was a genuinely sweet person, that always managed to make your day simply by smiling your way.

But—he hated coffee, always complained that the smell of it made him nauseous, so—what was he doing, working here?

You couldn’t help but be suspicious of his motives. You hoped it had nothing to do with a certain ‘I’d quit for you’ boy.

Not that everything had to do with him—

Ugh. Thinking of that interaction had your stomach doing backflips, and you weren’t certain if that was good or bad.

“Hey, star shine,” you gave him a small smile. “Ready to learn?”

He wasn’t horrible. He caught on fast, and tried his best, but the menu was long, and the recipes extensive, so it would take him a while no matter how bright he was. Not to mention working the espresso machine, something that had troubled you greatly—working with you he’d be okay, but if he ever was to open by himself... Suffice to say, you’d have your hands full for a bit.

Around lunch time, you made him his signature smoothie as a reward. Felix perked up at it, putting the straw between his lips, and chugging the entire thing.

“You’re the best,” he said, watching you prepare some pick up orders, back turned to the door.

“Eh… I’ve just worked here for too long,” you replied, simply, looking up when the little bell signaled a new customer.

“I got it! Hello, how—Hyun!”

Fuck. You put the Frappuccino’s in the cooler, filling plastic cups with ice. Anything to distract you.

“My two favorite people working together, huh?”

Felix laughed, leaning across the counter to greet his friend. You couldn’t help it, then, you caved.

Hyunjin was standing tall, and handsome, in his workshop overalls, paint all over them, a white t-shirt underneath, hair away from his face, in a half bun.

You nearly gave in. No person should be allowed to look that effortlessly good, especially when that person was supposed to be the enemy.

But why? Why did he have to be? Sure, he had a big ego, and rattled your nerves incessantly, but—that surely wasn’t reason enough?

You realized then, there was no justifiable cause for your hatred towards him. You just convinced yourself to dislike him, shoving him in a box and keeping him there, just cause of a smart comment he’d made when he first met you.

That was years ago.

Your heart told you it wouldn’t be for long. You can only deny the truth for so long.

Fuck.

iv. 18:10pm

Locking the shop, you threw the keys in your bag, turning to walk to the bus station.

You would’ve done exactly so, if you hadn’t noticed Hyunjin sitting on the stairs outside his school, cigarette in hand, sketching away. Normally, you’d leave him to it—many evenings he sat there, in his own world.

But today, he looked upset.

It’s none of my business—

But what if he needs someone?

Felix had classes, where is he at?

Sighing, you clenched your bag closer to your body, and crossed the street. You closed the distance between you, careful not to scare him, and even then you second guessed yourself.

You weren’t entirely sure why you felt responsible to fix his mood. But Hyunjin was rarely so visibly distressed, in all the time you knew him. He’d fake anger, sure, when he kicked male customers out with his snarky comments, and mean looks, but you’d never seen him this closed up.

You silently sat down next to him, peaking at his sketchbook. He was outlining the wings of a very intricate butterfly, tobacco ashes smudging the page.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured, not once lifting his head.

“Hey…” you trailed off, not really knowing what to say. “What are you doing?”

He brought the cigarette to his lips, hair sheltering his face. His pencil continued its way to the main body of the butterfly, slightly shading the edges of the wings.

“Making a gift.”

A gift? You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “It looks pretty.”

He exhaled through his nose, smoke coming out of his nostrils. Then, he finally tilted his head towards you, face supported by his hand.

Your mouth opened, and closed. Hyunjin was sad—the kind that withered flowers, brought clouds, and caused rain.

You did not like seeing him like this, at all. You’d much prefer the cocky boy that was obsessed with bitter coffee, if that meant he got to keep smiling.

Perhaps, you cared about Hwang Hyunjin more than you let on. Perhaps, that terrified you.

“Why are you here, angel? Thought you hated me,” he said, putting the cigarette butt out.

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

He stared at you, unblinking, and then moved ever so slightly, ever so slowly—

He kissed you.

And it was many things, but his lips tasted like smoke and mint, his lips were soft and plumb against yours—he kissed you like he didn’t mean to, but couldn’t help himself, guarded and yet entirely at your mercy.

You kissed back. And you understood, then—you’ve always loved him.

Always dreaded him.

It very much felt like hate.

His hands cupped your cheeks, softly caressing the skin with his thumbs, his hair tickling you, his breath mixing with your own. You fall, and fall, fall fall fall, leaning deeper into the kiss, into him, and he lets you, guides you, opens the door greeting you warmly—

This is what I’ve been feeling for you. This is what I feel, and for the longest time I thought you felt nothing.

You pulled back, getting up suddenly. Losing your footing, you almost collapse on top of him, but he holds you up by your arm. You’re panting, denying, denying, denying, scared, fucking shaking, because—

What if you lost him? What if it ended? You’d build your walls up, keeping him out for this exact reason.

No one gets over someone like Hwang Hyunjin.

You had caved in, and you had lost already.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you told him, overwhelmed, panicking.

He looked at you from his place at the stairs, unmoving, quiet.

“You shouldn’t have—you—I,” you took a deep breath, willing your thoughts to make sense, “I hate you, I—I’m sorry, I just wanted to see if you’re alright.”

Hyunjin took his time closing his sketchbook, while you stumbled over your words. He took out his lighter, lighting what would be the last cigarette of his pack, taking a long drag of it, meanwhile never taking his eyes off of your embarrassed figure.

You were blushing profusely, looking at anything but him.

“I’m alright, sweetheart,” he finally replied. “Are you?”

You had to leave. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

Hyunjin watched you go in a hurry. And even though, you freaked out and ran away from him, the fact that you kissed back made all the difference.

v. 08:35am

The next day, Felix opened with you, so he could begin to learn the routine of the morning shift.

Hyunjin didn’t come in, as he usually did on a Thursday. If Felix knew something, he didn’t say, instead focusing on grinding coffee beans, merrily humming to the song that played low throughout the shop.

After a rush—students getting their caffeine fix before classes started—it was just you and Felix again, wiping surfaces, and cutting cake slices for the display.

You had to ask. You had to ask, because it was killing you. You didn’t sleep a wink, instead running through the events of the stairs. You could still feel Hyunjin on your lips, even after washing your face, even when hours passed, and you lay wide awake on your twin sized bed, praying he would seep through your skin, at last, so you wouldn’t feel the ghost of him remaining.

“I have a question.” You braced for impact, thinking this would definitely get back to Hyunjin.

Felix threw an irresistible smile at you, waiting. “Shoot!”

You chewed on your lip, before breathing deeply. “I saw Hyunjin yesterday, by the stairs… Is—is he okay? He looked sad.”

Felix pursed his lips, and took a sip of his smoothie. “His mom’s one year death anniversary was yesterday.”

What? Oh my God. And you made it all about you, telling him you hated him, and disappearing on him after he took a risk kissing you!

You were a horrible person. If anything, you were the self absorbed one—you’d never asked, never cared—if he was okay, if he was having a good day. Yet, he always did.

In his own way. But he did, nonetheless.

“He never told you?”

You shook your head.

“I’m guessing he didn’t want you to pity him. He really likes you, you know.”

To that, you nodded, shamefully. “I do, too.”

Felix raised his eyebrows, smirking. “About damn time, no?”

“Now how about you tell him that?”

vi. 19:47pm

On Saturday, Hyunjin showed up just as you were about to close.

Dressed in jeans, and a band tee, hair wet falling across his forehead, he waited patiently by the door, while you gathered your stuff, lollipop hanging from his mouth.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, as you moved past him.

Shop closed for the day, you two walked side by side, in comfortable silence. The sky was a thousand colors, and the weather was warm—life didn’t feel real, with him by you, like this.

“What’s with the lollipop?” You asked, trying hard not to look at him directly.

It was unfair to look that good sucking on candy.

“I quit smoking.”

‘I’d do it. For you.’

After everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to act as you did before, around him. It had seemed forever ago that your feelings for him were hostile.

You were incredibly ashamed of how you’d treated him. Everyone’s fighting a silent war, used to be something you’d tell yourself everyday, going through high school, but there you were, not giving the time of day to a guy that, if you were being totally honest, protected you from weirdo’s on the daily.

Challenged you, made your days interesting just by lightly teasing you. He never crossed a line, never insulted you.

“What’s that you got there?” He asked you, changing the subject, looking at the bag you were carrying.

You looked at it, too, remembering it was there. “Oh! Strawberry cake. It came fresh today, and I wanted to try it.”

You both looked up at the same time, eyes locking.

“Angel…” he seemed in a trance, time stopping.

Angel. Before, you’d roll your eyes, call bullshit. Today, where you stood, that word coming from his lips was heavenly.

You wished for nothing more but to hear him say it again.

Hyunjin cursed, arm reaching out to get your hand in his.

“We need to talk. Can I take you to my studio, sweetheart?”

Too caught up in his beauty to form words, you nodded, stupidly.

He smiled at you. A real, genuine smile. All for you.

vii. 20:05pm

His studio was utterly and uniquely him.

One huge room, half of it dedicated to art, filled with half finished canvases, and art supplies, backdrops hanging from the ceiling, projects piling on a desk on the far end of the window wall with the stained glass.

The other half a normal kitchen and living room, the two separated by a table counter. The mess appeared almost purposeful. The apartment wasn’t dirty, it was just—

The mind of an artist. Chaos.

“Amused by my inability to clean?” He joked, studying you taking in his space.

You scrunched your face, biting your lip. “It’s not that. This…makes sense.”

He chuckled, leading you by the hand to his couch.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He brought spoons, and the two of dug into the cake, the fresh, ripe strawberries melting in your mouth. You moaned, excited to be eating something sweet after a long day at work.

Sharing cake with Hyunjin, at his house of all places. This was something out of your wildest dreams, and yet, it all felt a little too normal.

After all, this is a guy you’ve been seeing almost every single day for the past two years of your life. You’ve served him countless coffees, watched him sketch for hours—he’d even walked you to the bus station one time, worried a creep that had been flirting with you a little too aggressively, would try something.

In the moment, you never really realized, but in retrospect, you and Hyunjin had been together a lot.

Never this close, though. And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel different, this time, more personal.

You were sure your feelings were painted on your face, and surprisingly, you didn’t particularly care. You wanted it to happen. You didn’t want to keep hiding behind your finger, anymore.

“I owe you an apology. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to you.”

Hyunjin shook his head. “Don’t say that about yourself, angel. I came on too hard, and freaked you out.”

You turned to face him completely. He looked so calm, so content. How had you never seen it before?

Why had you been so adamant on pushing him away?

“No. I was still wrong. Let me do this—”

“(Y/N), please—”

“Hyunjin!” You sighed, exasperated. “This is why we fight. Because you’re so hardheaded!”

He laughed, then, hands reaching out to grab your face. You froze, astute.

“We don’t fight, angel. We bicker. I love bickering with you.”

His mouth attacked yours, pushing you down on the couch. Your back hitting the pillows, you circled your arms around his neck, hands caressing the nape of it.

It was like a fire lit between you, engulfing you both in its flames. Your whole chest was burning with the need to feel him closer, to touch him.

“Angel,” he whispered against your lips. Your eyelashes fluttered, the desire to kiss him again too strong.

“Tell me. Before I continue, tell me,” he pushed the hair out of of your face, lovingly, eyes gazing deep into yours, “if you feel the same. I’ve been hooked on you, sweetheart. Ever since I met you.”

You were about to tell him the scariest three words you’ve ever said—but he had to know. It was overdue, it was necessary he knew.

You touched his cheek, leaving a kiss on the edge of his mouth. He followed your movements like his life depended on them—on you.

“I love you,” you whispered.

The way his eyes lit up, that rare, addictive warmth of his that you’ve only witnessed a handful of times—you would never get enough of his happiness. It was such a whole experience, so very precious.

“Took you fucking long enough, my sweet girl.” He picked you up, wrapping his arms around you in the most delicious way, bringing you on his lap.

You could feel every inch of him—your hunger grew ferocious.

His eyes scanned your face, silently asking for consent, his hands at the hem of your shirt. You kissed him, instead, guiding his hands underneath.

He wasted no time getting you both naked, unhooking your bra, his tongue trailing down from your mouth to your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples.

“Fuck, angel, you’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about this...”

His other hand moved down, unzipping your jeans, getting lost in your thighs. When he cupped your cunt, you were soaked.

“Goddamn, (Y/N),” his mouth devoured yours, crazy with want, cock painfully hard.

Pausing to remove your pants, you straddled him once again, running your hands over his firm arms, mouth moving to his neck, sucking on it. He groaned, his fingers finding your wetness, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

“Fuck… Hyunjin…”

“Tell me what you need,” he pressed his forehead against yours, your scents becoming one.

You, you, you, everywhere, always—

You moved against his fingers, rubbing yourself on him. The idea of you, doing this with him. It was absurd.

Nothing had felt more right.

All of your senses were wide awake, so entirely consumed by him, and his hands, his breath, his clean scent, the sweat forming, the way his hair fell in his eyes—

His eyes. The way they stared you down, feral, growing darker by the minute. The sounds that escaped your mouth were sinful, and he could absolutely not fucking take it anymore, he’s waited long enough, has wished for this, for you, in any way he could have you, take you, make you his.

His moans were a guttural sound, coming from the back of his throat. You put your hands on his chest, feeling the vibration of them, moving upwards, fingers wrapping around his neck, his head falling back.

He was the angel. He looked unreal, his naked body clenching, his movements never faulting, carrying you through an intense orgasm.

There were no words to describe—all of the buried emotions you refused to accept, they were all bubbling up, spilling out of you, destroying you, and Hyunjin was picking up the pieces.

“I need to be inside you, angel. Please.” Never breaking eye contact, he flipped you, positioning you underneath him, while he stood, one knee between your legs, arm extended over you, holding the back of the couch.

He stayed like that for a moment, just drinking you in, sprawled out, in his house, ready for him. He thanked whatever God granted him such joy, for he had dreamed of this many times.

You, wanting him back. His coffee girl embracing him, trusting him.

The moment he entered you, you both clang to one another, the feeling of his stretching you alone, overwhelming. His mouth against your ear, his heavy breathing scorching. You dug your nails in his back, moving with him.

“Fuck, (Y/N)…” His thrusts were slow, savoring, learning the ways you responded to him.

“Please, Hyunjin, please…”

Hyunjin watched you come apart, your broken moans music to his ears, a melody he’d like to memorize by heart. The way your body synchronized with his, your open mouth, head thrown back, unraveling before him—

“My beautiful girl…never leaving you—never allowed to leave me.”

A symphony. Heaven.

You made love like that, time no longer a concept, exploring each other, until you both came undone, shuddering, breathless, tightly enveloping.

A kiss on your forehead, and a silent question.

Will you stay?

You did; you stayed. You and Hyunjin talked till the early hours of the next morning, hands clasped together, hearts whispering, connected.

I found you.

I’m with you, now.

viii. 05:04am

“I’m sorry about your mom,” you mumbled against his chest, half asleep.

He froze, momentarily, a deep sigh escaping his red lips, fingers drawing circles on your naked back.

“She had to go,” he replied quietly. “That’s what she told me. The cancer was eating her alive.”

Your head rose to meet his eyes, your chest heavy. He looked calm, if not a little tired. He gave you a soft smile, his eyes forming crescent moons, promising you he was okay.

“It was just me and her, but I guess that’s why she introduced me to painting. So I wouldn’t be alone.”

“She liked butterflies.”

You laid back down, burying your face in the crook of his neck, in fear of him noticing the tears in your eyes. He felt them, anyway.

You would never forgive yourself for telling him you hated him. You never did. Hate him.

You hated the way he made you feel.

You would never be able to get over Hwang Hyunjin.

That was fine with you, as long as you got to love him, first.

#ficscafe #hyunjin scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #hyunjin #skz #kpop scenarios #hyunjin fanfic #skz fanfic #mine.

[ch4singchase]

The Ballad of Moths | LUKE CASTELLAN

Summary: Eurydice Gaumont receives gifts from her father and one of these proves invaluable as her journey intersects with fellow demigods.

Word count: 4.9K

Warnings: Mentions of blood and Injury, violence, grief, ophidiophobia (since the monster in this chapter is a giant snake), mentions of death, mild language

chapter one, chapter two | series masterlist

chapter 02: I Defend A Bunch Of Kids From A Giant Snake

The rhythmic tap of rain against my bus window played a lullaby, coaxing me into a swift slumber.

Abruptly, I was no longer confined to the bus; the rain had transformed into the hushed serenity of a forest. This was no typical ominous woods of a horror story; its allure lay in a distinct kind of beauty.

Drawing near a tree, my fingers traced the rough texture of its trunk, relishing the tactile sensation. The leaves gracefully danced, swaying in a tranquil wind, as if encouraging a shared nap. Smiling up at them, I entertained the whimsical idea that the tree and its surroundings comprehended my thoughts.

A soft flap of wings echoed behind me, and there it was—the moth that helped me understand where I should go earlier.

This was the same moth, its wings a rich black with subtle brown accents, patiently awaiting my presence in a circular dance.

"Hello, buddy," I greeted cautiously, extending my hand to see its reaction, "How's it going?"

Predictably, the moth remained silent. It alighted on my fingertip and then took flight, leading me along a specific path among the trees, unveiling a concealed trail through the forest. Glancing at the shadows that enveloped the moth's chosen route, a fleeting doubt crossed my mind—was it truly wise to follow?

Without dwelling on the question, I pursued the enigmatic guide, allowing instinct to override rational contemplation.

As I ventured deeper into the forest, the canopy above formed a protective shield against the sporadic drizzle that started. The moth continued its dance ahead, weaving through the foliage with an innate knowledge of the path, as if the trees themselves whispered directions to their winged companion.

Moss-covered rocks and the scent of damp earth under foot marked my journey. The woods seemed to respond to my presence, embracing me in a mysterious symphony of rustling leaves and distant calls of unseen creatures. Nature itself had become my guide, and the moth, my silent escort through this living tapestry.

The path curved, revealing a hidden glade bathed in ethereal moonlight. In the center stood a peculiar tree, its silver bark shimmering in the celestial glow. The moth settled on a branch, and as if on cue, the air became charged with an otherworldly energy.

I looked around, confused. The wind gently brazed my cheeks, guiding some leaves with it and revealing what was hiding in the glade until now.

Moths. A bunch of moths. All joining the one guiding me into a beautiful dance.

Perhaps, when I was younger, I would be frightened, but instead, I was just stunned by it. They were gracious and in an infinity of colors, painting the air like a vivid rainbow in the middle of the night. Even some fireflies had heard their excitement and joined the party, lightning the night in a blink of an eye.

“She’s here, she’s here, she’s finally going home!” They all seemed to whisper, even if I couldn’t understand what they meant by it.

Where was here? Were they following me? Were they the ones who sent the moth to help me?

There were too many questions and no answers.

“No, no,” they all repeated to what sounded like a response, “Our friend did.”

“Yeah yeah,” others agreed, circling around me as they did so, “Your father.”

For the first time since I had seen the moth from before, I ventured to speak up.

“My father?” It was just me repeating what they had just said but, still, it had taken me some type of courage to say so, “He’s dead, how is that possible?”

“Dead?” most of them laughed, as if I had told them a joke, “That’s not possible; he is a god.”

What?

“You heard us,” it seemed like I hadn’t only questioned it in my head, “You’re the daughter of a god.”

I stood frozen for a couple of seconds. A god…?

I recalled what the Cyclops had called me, a Half-Blood. Cyclopes, chimeras, half-blood, all of them were characters that my mother had once told me were tales. Stories in Ancient Greece, myths. Nothing more but stories.

But stories don’t simply come to life. They have to have always been there.

If they were talking about gods, they could only be the Greek ones, right? The Olympian ones and so on.

“How...” I tried to ask... Anything, honestly. But I didn’t even know where I could start; in the end, I was talking to moths, what was crazier than that?

“We can’t tell you everything,” some of the moths mumbled.

“Yeah yeah, he had told us just to help you find your way but we couldn’t stop ourselves,” others complained.

“Once we heard you were still alive, we were so excited,” the moths giggled, holding back screams of joy.

“Yeah, even if one of us ended up saying something about the titan, we wanted to risk a chance,” one in a million of their siblings said, and if almost every one of them were speaking at the same time, I heard it.

Every single one, but one brought my curiosity, “Titan?”

It was all I needed to ask before they went into a deep silence.

The moths hushed as my question lingered in the night air. Their whispering dance seemed to still, and the anticipation was palpable. Then, one moth separated itself from the swirling mass and approached me.

It wasn’t the same one I was already familiar with compared to the others, but its wings fluttered with a measured elegance.

“We should not say anything about it,” the moth said, “It’s just a rumor, a cruel one”

“But the prophecy?” one of the others questioned, daring the one that was speaking for them, “The prophecy says…”

Most of them hushed the little one, giving voice to the same one of before, “As I said, it’s just a rumor. Some things are better left unknown, life must unfold naturally..”

“You said about a prophecy,” I tried to reason with it, approaching the moth, “What prophecy?”

The moth shook its little head, “You must go now, Eurydice Gaumont”

“No” I persisted, stomping my feet into the ground.

But it didn’t matter what I wanted, slowly the scenario around me started to go blurry and slowly the sound of rain tapping returned.

I protested, but the scene blurred, and before waking, I heard the words, "In shadows deep, a reaper's kid must tread..."

Then, I was back on the bus again. Alone.

I looked around, trying to look for something. But despite the sleepy sleepers who snored near me, there was nothing new after the dream. It was still dark, the first sign of sun daring to peek out of their hidden spot.

Sighing, I looked at the sky, searching for an answer. At that point, I wouldn’t be surprised if the answer came in the form of a god of the sun trying to mime what I should do next. Or sing—I didn’t know much about Greek gods at that time, but I was almost sure that the god of the sun in the stories also sang.

What was that I had heard? A reaper’s kid, right?

Now, what did that mean?

Sighing once more at the dawn of that day, every time it looked like things were making sense, my life would get twisted.

A sound of wings caught my attention when I looked at the empty seat by my side. The moth from the convenience store and my dream was my company once more. If it had a face, it would look like regret or shame.

It flapped its wings, as if to call my attention again.

“I’m seeing you, stupid,” It flapped its wings one more time, perhaps it didn’t like being called stupid, “You didn’t talk like your siblings at that forest right, I don’t remember hearing you”

And I truly didn't. For some reason, I could recognize each moth that had talked in that clearing, but none of them was the one that had been with me since Springfield.

This time, the moth flapped its wings twice.

"Alright," I scoffed, contemplating the sanity of conversing with a moth. "Enough beating around the bush; what do you want to tell me?"

Rather than flapping, the moth took flight, turning beneath my seat. I didn’t know how to curse, but what I thought was similar to a ‘what the fuck?’

Leaning forward, I peered beneath my seat, expecting to find the bags from the convenience store—snacks, sweets, water, a flashlight, and some change. Yet, unlike what I remembered, there was also a backpack.

Which, by chance, was not mine.

It reminded me of the backpacks I had seen at the store or some of the other people on that bus wearing, but I didn't have enough money to buy even a fanny pack.

Puzzled, I picked up the backpack and examined it. It seemed lost, probably belonging to another passenger. To my surprise, my name was on a sticker affixed to it.

Was it truly mine?

I opened the backpack, looking for what could be inside.

If my expectations were set on receiving a cellphone, all-star shoes, additional snacks, clothing, or perhaps a map, I would find myself in a perpetual state of hope until the arrival of the non-existent date of February 31st. Alas, none of those anticipated items were to be found.

What I found was, in fact, a leather wristband with a snap button closure, adorned with small stones. Accompanying it were a couple of coins, featuring a peculiar carving that deviated from any standard penny. Doubtingly, I reached in, confirming the wristband, coins… Plus a map.

At least that.

Exhaling deeply, I hoped my godly father, wherever he was, could hear me. Was this his gift? A questionable assistance from a man presumed dead.

Truthfully, I anticipated something more beneficial for survival, perhaps a letter explaining his whereabouts and the ongoing events. It was the least he could offer after all these years.

My mother had portrayed him as a soldier with a calm heart, unwilling to return to duty but aware of their need for a reminder of peace. How every end no matter how it began, would meet peace. She would always remind me that he would be the one to go down in a nonviolent way, with his hand laying on his chest, above his heart.

Would. She never said he was. Because he was a god, a greek god.

Knowing I was aware of his divine status, he chose to bestow upon me strange money, a wristband, and a map. Well, the map, at least, seemed somewhat helpful.

I stowed away the bags containing my purchases from Springfield into the backpack, arranging the snacks and supplies meticulously to avoid any mishaps during my travels—whether it involved catching the next bus or evading a new monster.

The coins and map found their place inside the backpack as well. However, before I could tuck away the wristband, curiosity got the better of me. It was a finely crafted leather piece, elegant and delicate.

Examining it closely, I wondered if my father had crafted it himself. The mere thought tightened my heartstrings.

Looking at the inside of the wristband, I frowned when I found something carved into the leather. Something was written into another language.

I turned the wristband and looked at it closely, words were always hard to me so if I wanted to understand what it meant, I would have to take my time.  If I intended to understand its meaning, patience would be crucial. Or so I thought.

As the letters began to weave into each other, a surprising clarity emerged. Instead of becoming a confusing jumble, they started to make sense.

Tenebris.

While it wasn't an exact match to what was written, it was undeniably the meaning it conveyed.

Latin, perhaps?

Gazing at the wristband once more, I opted not to return it to the backpack. Instead, I made the choice to wear it.

Perhaps my father had indeed crafted it. Wearing it became my silent expression of appreciation, a subtle invitation for him to emerge from his hidden shell.

Ultimately, it proved to be a beautiful wristband.

When I looked out the window again, the sun was already rising. We seemed to have arrived in New Haven, recognizable to me from a previous visit. It appeared we were near State St, very close to Yale.

There was a time when I thought I might study there, a distant dream from my younger self. Back then, despite never attending a real school, I held onto the possibility.

Revisiting the city at fourteen, a few years later, doubt crept in.

Knowing what I now knew, it wasn't hard to recognize that the odds were always against me. I never had the chance, not before, and certainly not now.

As soon as the bus stopped and the other passengers started to get off, I did the same. I picked up my backpack and put it on, following the others to the street, deciding to be the last one to get down.

For a moment, I waited a bit before finally getting off, looking inside the bus and waiting for the moth from earlier to appear and follow it. But, it didn't happen.

So, I went my way. If I remembered correctly, there shouldn't be another bus stop so far away, I could eat something on the way while I looked and hope my change would be enough for the next ticket. Or, hope they would accept my dad's weird coins.

As I strolled down the street, I seized the opportunity to approach strangers, concocting a flimsy tale about a new school on Long Island and my ailing parents unable to assist with transportation. However, as they began to provide directions, a sinking feeling crept in.

Clearly, I lacked the funds for the entire journey.

Faced with limited options, I considered potential avenues. One option involved seeking employment on the streets, donning a somber expression and appealing to tourists for financial assistance. Ironically, the more morally questionable choice proved to be the swifter means of acquiring funds.

Anyway, I tried to risk it, at least make it to the bus stop that supposedly was the cheapest one to my journey. Maybe, the driver could take some pity on me and take me to Pennsylvania. If not, I would have start to figure how to gain money for the whole trip, I wouldn’t dare to walk all the way to that fucking camp.

I walked, walked, walked and walked down State St. As I traversed the street, covering only a fraction of the distance, I encountered a Thai Restaurant. The sight of it made my stomach protest loudly; I hadn't eaten in a while, and the prolonged walking intensified my hunger.

However, there was no way I would eat in the middle of the street, under the scrutinizing gaze of strangers. That was out of the question.

Despite mustering all the courage, I hesitated to knock on the closed restaurant's door. Even if a waiter were to appear, what excuse could I possibly give for not wanting to dine outside?

So, I found an alternative. In less than a minute, I seated myself in an alley, extracting a snack from my backpack and indulging in it.

In fact, that was within question.

Ignoring the curious glances of passersby, I continued my impromptu meal. Candies followed, accompanied by sips of water. This brief moment of rest was crucial before resuming my walk under the scorching sun.

I just needed two minutes, or maybe ten… Honestly, a whole thirty minutes were enough for me to restore my energy.

As I rested, I took another look at the wristband I was wearing. The more attention I paid to it, the more I noticed a strange energy emanating from it. It was difficult to explain and even less tangible—an unknown aura surrounding something hidden inside the leather, beyond the engraved letters.

When I opened my mouth to express the feeling, the only thing that came to mind was the night of a day or two ago.

My mother was held in the air by the monster's hand, the only one watching her intensely and impatiently, while all she did instead of fighting was ask me to run. And run was what I did.

Until I heard her scream—a stunning, heart-wrenching scream that froze my feet in place, forcing me to witness her body flying to my side, blood overflowing from her mouth. Her torso seemed broken or twisted enough to inflict severe internal injuries.

Still, she had the strength to ask me to keep running. How could I? How could I run and leave her behind?

I couldn't do that. Instead, I stood beside her, ignoring the disturbing footsteps of the Cyclops approaching.

I held my mother's hands, hoping to somehow absorb her strength. Perhaps I did, for even though I didn't follow her request, it seemed to matter little to her. As if, in the end, she felt no pain.

Tears and sobs dampened my face, but I could swear she thanked me. Ridiculous, considering I should be thanking her for being an incredible mother, sacrificing everything for my safety. If only I had known sooner...

After that, everything was a blur, difficult to understand. Holding her hands, a strange sensation tingled down my spine, adrenaline coursing through my entire body. When I saw my mother attempting to say something but succumbing to exhaustion...

The Cyclops was already beside me, reaching to grab me.

Anything between that moment and the hospital was a haze. Fragments of memories. I recalled his hands trying to lift me off the ground, my palms facing his monstrously large fingers. Almost facing a 5-meter drop but feeling no pain.

When the ambulance arrived and I reached the hospital, attempting to explain what I had understood about the situation at the time, they were most surprised that I hadn't broken my legs or at least sprained an ankle. But I think my exhaustion and grief were enough for them to believe me.

I tightened my lips, holding back tears at the memory. What did my mother's death have to do with my father's gift?

Tenebris—was that really the only clue I had?

Gradually, a shift occurred in the air, and it didn't escape my notice.

Within moments, an unsettling realization dawned – something was amiss. The streets teemed with people running in the opposite direction of my intended path once I felt ready to resume my journey. Fear and confusion etched on their faces left me puzzled about the impending threat.

Swiftly, I rose, stowing away my belongings in my backpack and hoisting it onto my back. Approaching adults warned me of an out-of-control truck menacing pedestrians, urging me to find safety. Some chose the rational path, sprinting toward the police station for genuine assistance.

However, skepticism gnawed at me. It didn't ring true. Something felt off.

My eyes caught sight of the unfolding drama a few streets away, just beyond the dog park on the opposite side of my position.

Initially, I perceived three kids, one notably smaller than the others, sprinting from an unseen threat. The girl in black wielded a makeshift spear, while her companion brandished a golf club. How could such feeble weapons aid their escape from an out-of-control truck? Why weren't they going to a store or going to the sidewalk?

Then, I understood.

At first glance, the runaway vehicle resembled a refrigerated truck, careening down the road with a desperate screech. The driver, concealed behind black-tinted windows, eluded my view from this distance.

However, as I advanced, sidestepping the frantic adults, reality emerged.

It was no truck, but a snake. A giant fucking snake. There was no other way to describe it.

All the sense I was lacking suddenly decided to take control of my actions. My brain, which had previously been unable to muster the courage to stand at the door of a closed restaurant, had now regained enough courage to force my feet to run after that atrocity.

For no logical or plausible reason, from one moment to the next, my rationality  was replaced by stupidity.

The monstrous serpent pursued the kids, including the one almost the same age I was when I met Viola. It seemed absurd to consider intervening, given the potential to continue on my way or capitalize on the disturbance to pilfer from unsuspecting pockets. Yet, I couldn't turn away.

Just as I couldn't flee when my mother's cries pierced the air or when she tried to wrench me from Viola's grasp as the Chimera's stinger pierced her chest in the past.

Perhaps it was stubbornness, authentic courage, or sheer impertinence.

It remained unclear where my resolve originated as the idea of confronting a giant snake pursuing a group of children took hold.

The snake, swift and destructive, both hindered the children and itself. Exploiting that and my familiarity with the streets and their shortcuts, I discerned an opportunity to intervene.

I ran like I had rarely ran before, until the tips of the toes hurt. My sneakers had already gone belly-up to that moment, after all the running I have being doing in the past months.

I walked around the streets, without for a second taking my eyes off the scales of that thing. Entering some alleys and following the murmurs and exclamations of the children as they tried to formulate a plan, even though they were at a disadvantage.

Swallowing hard, I took advantage of the shelter outside some buildings to avoid the fragments of asphalt, cement, poles and benches flying everywhere. Gradually but quickly managing to reach that monster.

But that didn't mean I didn’t continue to run, attempting to maintain a good and safe distance between the giant snake and the peculiar trio.

"Hey, girl!" the older girl from the trio shouted, attempting to grab my attention. "Get out of here, it's not safe!"

She wore dark clothes that complemented her short, black hair and extremely light blue eyes. In addition to the makeup on her face, which was almost gone, having been worn away by time for a long time.

It didn't take long to notice her limp, a testament to an injured foot sustained during the chase – or even before.

I just smiled, hiding behind some trash cans and away from the giant snake's senses, hoping it would continue to pay all its attention to that bunch of kids. Which, to be honest, weren't much younger than me, except for the little girl.

"No, you guys go," I shouted back, "Head into the park and blend in with the crowd there. It'll be hard for them to believe that a truck would actually enter a park."

At least, that's what I thought at the time. Nowadays, I know that mundanes would still believe in the idea of an out-of-control truck wreaking havoc, even within a park.

They didn't follow my advice; instead, they halted their escape.

“Aegis,” the girl from before exclaimed, and her bracelet transformed into an incredible shield. She shielded her friends, positioning the protective barrier in front of them, waiting to see my next move. The boy behind her appeared both confused and scared, alternating his gaze between me and his friend as if awaiting an order.

At this point, I was hoping for one too. I had no idea what to do, and I didn't even have a weapon.

However, the giant snake paid no heed. I could distinctly hear its slithering and the destruction of cars in its path. I refused to let fear or my earlier stupidity show on my face.

Instead, I glanced at my wrist, the leather band my father had given me. For a moment, I wished it were a weapon, similar to the girl's shield bracelet.

Despite having the slightest idea of how to handle a weapon, I hoped for anything that could help me assist those three.

Timing couldn't have been worse for it to resurface, but as I looked at a trash can in front of me, the usual moth landed patiently, as if awaiting something.

Perhaps it shared the girl's curiosity about what I would do.

Then, I remembered—the sound of rain yesterday morning, at the funeral, and even at night on the bus, a hostage to "what ifs" that could have transpired instead of my current reality. I remembered the blood, dark red staining my hands and clothes, and how cold it felt against my skin. I didn't care, holding my mother's hands with all my might.

Just like I tried to hold Viola that day, attempting unsuccessfully to move her body away from the Chimera's sting.

The giant snake drew closer, its slithering growing clearer by the second.

Glancing at my wristband again, the carved words caught my eye.

Out of the corner, I saw the snake's scales and its wild eyes. Emerging from my hiding place, a word escaped my mouth like a battle cry before I fully comprehended my own line of reasoning.

"Tenebris!"

A blinding light filled the air, halting the giant snake and diverting its attention towards me. I closed my eyes, feeling the wristband transform within seconds.

Suddenly, something weighed down in my hand, like the sheath of a sword. Its dark sheath matched my wristband's leather, and its slightly curved blade, made of an uncanny bronze material, felt strangely familiar. Bronze. The sword's blade was made of bronze.

As quickly as the light appeared, it dissipated, replaced by a cloud of darkness covering my ankles and part of the street and alley.

The trio gaped at the spectacle. The older girl struggled to maintain her defensive stance, her injured foot hindering her movements. The younger one's wide and curious eyes betrayed a mix of fear and fascination, while the boy among them clutched his golf club with a determined expression that hinted at a desire to help.

Without giving the serpent a chance to recover from the blinding light from before, I surged forward, the newfound sword in hand. The blade cut through the air with a metallic hum, and I slashed at the serpent's scaly underbelly.

It hissed in pain, recoiling momentarily.

In the end, the wristband was a useful gift. I had to remind myself, one day, to thank my dad.

Seizing the opportunity, I circled the serpent, keeping it off balance, continuing to slash its scaly skin. It tried to knock me down with a movement of its body, but before that could happen, I dodged it, cutting its scales once again. But this time I made a point of sticking my sword in, hoping to hit some organ of his, then pulling the sword out.

The boy with black hair, recognizing an opening, sprinted to the serpent's other side, wielding his golf club like a hero facing a dragon from the tales. His fearless determination served as a distraction, affording me yet another chance to strike.

The girl, despite her injury, bravely stood her ground, using her shield to protect us and the little girl. While, said little girl, spurred by a sudden burst of courage, found a dagger in her pocket and joined the fray.

The serpent, now enraged, lunged at us with deadly precision. The older girl skillfully deflected its strikes with her shield, while the boy continued to harass it from the side. The younger girl and I coordinated our attacks, aiming for vulnerable spots between the scales.

As the battle raged on, I felt a surge of adrenaline, my movements becoming more fluid and instinctive. My sword seemed to respond to my will, enhancing my speed and strength. Each strike resonated with power, and the serpent's resistance weakened.

Finally, with a resounding clash, I drove the sword into the serpent's forehead, or what looked like its forehead. The creature convulsed, its massive form thrashing before collapsing to the ground. The dark cloud dissipated, leaving only the echoes of the intense battle.

Breathing heavily, I turned to face the trio, equally exhausted.

They, too, looked weary, particularly the girl nursing an injured leg. Despite their fatigue, they regarded me with awe, as if I had materialized from the pages of a fantastical tale. Given the circumstances, I couldn't blame them.

I didn't blame them, I really had appeared out of nowhere.

"I'm Thalia," the older girl introduced herself, leaning against a wall as her shield reverted to a bracelet. "That's Annabeth," she pointed to the younger dark-skinned girl, now displaying a hint of shyness.

"And I'm Luke," the boy interjected, assisting his friend to stand while keeping a watchful eye on me, still processing the surreal reality of our shared encounter with the monstrous serpent.

"I'm Eurydice," I replied, glancing at my sword and back at them. "It seems like you needed a little help."

“We did,” Luke agreed, looking at me from head to toe, but keeping his eyes on mine while talking to me, “And I think we still do”

Shifting his attention to his injured friend, he examined her leg, revealing a severe wound beneath her baggy jeans. Thalia attempted to whisper something to Luke, diverting his hands away from the injury.

Feeling lost and searching for a solution, my eyes wandered, and I spotted a parked car on a nearby sidewalk—doors open and windows relatively intact. It seemed like an abandoned vehicle amidst the chaos.

"I can drive," I offered, drawing the trio's attention. "I just need to know where we should go and someone who knows how to start a car without a key."

Luke sighed, helping Thalia walk toward me, followed by Annabeth.

"Lucky for you, I know both," the grin he flashed at me while uttering those words hinted at one unmistakable thing: trouble.

#percy jackson fanfiction #pjo fanfic #pjo tv show #pjo series #dionysus pjo #chiron #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #clarisse la rue #thalia grace #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #female original character

[gaypleasantview]

Day 2: Rockstar // Face Tattoo Set

Set includes:

⋆ hauntedtrait's Bad Decisions, converted from TS4

⋆ peachyfaerie's Spellbound, converted from TS4

⋆ peachyfaerie's Zodiac Face Tats, converted from TS4

Link, swatch and more info under the cut ♡

Can't believe how long this set took for some reason... Anyway, hi, today I'm bringing you 114 face tattoos! They are all available for TU-EU sims. You can find them in the blush category, and they are divided into layer groups, meaning that your sim can have as many tattoos as you want as long as they don't overlap.

I wasn't sure if blush is the perfect place for them since it's usually cluttered with stuff, but my other option was face paint, which, as far as I'm aware, doesn't normally have custom thumbnails. Which could maybe be changed just like with accessories, but that doesn't show up in Bodyshop anyway, does it? And I would really like for it to be easily accessible in Bodyshop, so. Didn't look into overlay boxes here for the same reason, but maybe it would be a cool wip :)

There's a couple of tats that didn't make the cut, but almost all of them did. Some were separated, some were moved a bit. The textures only work in the face zone, so some of them look a little bit chewed on because they were originally intended to cover the scalp as well. Nothing too extreme tho.

Of course, everything is tooltipped, compressed, and has cute previews. I also tried my best to give all the files clear names because I love when everything is labeled. Important note: when I labeled a tattoo as left or right, I meant the way a sim would see it from their own perspective. Sorry if it's a bit of a mindfuck, just made more sense to me personally, lol.

Credits: aside from the creators that made all of this really cool stuff, I also want to really thank Lifa for their wonderful Birthday Suit skintones that I used in all the in-game previews, specifically the original and the colorful ones (mostly Zodiac, lol). And, of course, The Tattooer, a stunning tool that made it all possible.

☁ Download

SFS | Mediafire

☁ Swatch

⋆ hauntedtrait Bad Decisions. 27 edgy tattoos that inspired me to convert all of this in the first place. Some of these are pretty big. If you hate spiders, be careful – there's a couple.

⋆ peachyfaerie Spellbound. 39 tattoos. Most of these are small and located under the eyes. Many flower-themed images. My personal favorites are the beautiful leaves.

⋆ peachyfaerie Zodiac Face Tats. 48 tattoos. No comment on the color choices for the preview. Anyway, these are quite simple: 4 tattoos for each sign, including symbols and text.

#s2cc #my cc #the sims 2 #sims 2 cc #ts2cc #sims 2 face tattoo #4t2 conversion #4t2 #ts2 cc #ts2 #hauntedtrait #peachyfaerie

[serinigalini]

hi hi! first off thank you so much for always serving looks. your art is phenomenal and your style feels like it belongs on the walls of a luxury fashion HQ.

stunning stunning stunning

i was wondering if you ever get the time, would you mind (please) showing us any tips on how to achieve that rich variety of textures you have on so many of your fits? the one you did recently of the three Tifa fits, for example, has so many different textures represented. I wouldn't even know where to begin achieving that!

no pressure of course! if it's a trade secret then please do keep it. I'm just so impressed and curious and had to speak up

thanks so much, keep up the beautiful work x

Hello!

First off, thank you so much for your wonderful words! Working in the fashion industry is my dream so this means a whole lot to me.

I can totally share! I'll try my best to explain my process because it varies quite often, especially now that I switched from Photoshop and Procreate, but if I were to give my step by step, it's this:

sketch> lineart> color> shade> paint over> texture/grain/sharpen/contrast

The unique coloring I had a few drawings back came from working with an Adjustment Layer with a Gradient Map on Photoshop. But now since I use Procreate, my main trick is making the colors much darker than I want initially, and then putting a bunch of highlights with a Color Dodge layer with a textured brush.

Now, my main thing is that I never use blending brushes and my brushes (outside of color blocking) are always textured. Charcoal, pencil, grainy, grungy etc, that is what you're looking for. If you need something slightly softer, watercolor brushes that mimic real ones are ones I use as well, just not as often as the others.

My latest Tifa piece uses all official Procreate brushes that come with the app. The Rosette brush, which is under the Textures brush folder, and the Flicks brush under the Spraypaints folder. (Also Derwent, 6B pencil and Gloaming for sketching and lineart)

General rule of thumb with shine is that it can only get so light, so make sure your base is on the darker side.

Here is my effects folder. That's where I add highlights, mood and texture. I've also been enjoying the noise and sharpen feature on Procreate, and I apply them all on a grey overlay layer on top of all of my art. Also a bunch of color burn and overlay layers.

For reference, here is the art without the effect folder compared to the final art.

Hope this helps! ❤

#art advice #asks #myart

[wolfythewitch]

What happened with ur coloring these past few days? Like you were always good but suddenly it feels EVEN BETTER? I adore the colors and the textures... the last pieces you posted are like stunning, I'm honestly in awe :(

I don't know!!! I think something clicked or something gssjdgdnvd

I'm still playing with painting styles so it'll change a bunch, but I feel like the one I'm using now is really good for softer moods/drawings :DDD

#wolfy tedtalks #anon

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This stunning 1889 Victorian home in Belfast, Maine has been magnificently restored and is currently being used as a B&B. It has 10bd. 8ba. and is priced at $1.395M.

I just love the color and the amazing round stone porch. The color is beachy b/c of the home’s proximity to the ocean and guests can enjoy a variety of water-based activities.

When you enter the large main hall the first thing you notice is the gorgeous oak woodwork. The fireplace has an amazing tile surround and it’s all been impeccably restored.

Awesome original hardware & doors open to a cozy bright sitting room. Notice that they chose to restore the ceilings with textured wallpaper, which is painted gold in the entrance hall.

Loving the pocket doors that open to the dining room. 

The dining room is full of charm and just look at this wonderful fireplace.

Isn’t this pretty? And look at the spectacular built-in cabinet.

The den has an amazing stone fireplace- look at the details of the unusual stones.

The chef’s kitchen has been thoughtfully renovated. Love it.

Rounded turret stairs.

A large upstairs landing.

Lovely guest rooms, every one is beautifully decorated. 

Nicely restored vintage bath.

This large room has the tub inside, and look at the rounded wall.

Such a pretty room with an equally pretty fireplace.

This bath is a little more modern, but they added some vintage decorative touches.

The next level’s landing. The tiny sign on the newel post says, “private,” which would indicate that it’s the owner’s quarters.

Sweet little room on this level.

This one is so pretty, too.

This house is massive- there are so many levels, and this is another entrance hall.

Here, you can see the home’s close proximity to the water.

The rounded porch extends to the back of the house.

The driveway and a small stoop. There are entrances into the home on every side.

The gardens are lovely and there’s a large barn/garage on .51 acre.

https://www.priceypads.com/1898-victorian-home-full-of-historic-charm-in-belfast-maine/

#victorian house #B&B for sale #old house dreams #victorian architecture #houses #house tours #home tour

[dilfartist]

Like it or not

TW: Stalking, Monster, forced relationship, rushed ending, cursing, yandere tendencies.

Paring: Yandere Siren Jotaro x reader

The seashells on the shore were always beautiful. Every weekend, you would collect the seashells you found. You did many things with the shells: created jewelry, draw them, and collect them for decorations. That's why you would never miss a day of going to the beach on your days off from your work at the local ice cream shop.

You visited the beach so frequently, eventually, you had caught someone- or something's eye.

There was a cave near the spot you would visit. You never went inside the cave. You didn't have a reason to do so. If you would have, you would find a creature watching you closely. The creature was a siren named Jotaro Kujo.

Well, half-human, half siren to be exact.

Jotaro came across you one day during one of your many visits. He needed to get away from the group of female sirens that followed him around, to escape the problem, he emerged out of the sea into a cave. As usual, Jotaro lay against a massive rock smoking a cigarette. His eyes drifted to the opening in the cave. That's when he saw you. You were painting while listening to a cassette tape. You looked stunning at this moment. Perhaps, this is why Jotaro was attracted to you. Not because of your looks, no, because of your interest in the ocean. Jotaro yearned to see you again.

From that day on Jotato religiously journeyed to the cave on the weekends, observing your every move from afar. Jotaro would bring your belongings to the cave and stash your stolen belongings. He had a shrine of stuff he had stolen from you. He'd come by the cave and examine the items to remember the memories he, without your knowledge, shared with you. The months grew and Jotaro knew every little detail about you. The siren had fallen in love with you. Jotaro would not sing to lure anyone. Hell, Jotaro never sings to himself in secret. He found no need for it. But when he saw you, he wanted nothing more than to sing you a song from the bottom of his heart. Of course, not to eat your heart. No. He wanted to sing to you so he could pull you down to the ocean with him.

Worry consumed his mother. She hadn't seen her son in a while which concerned her greatly. Even if her son was cruel to her at times, he wouldn't up and leave her, nor was it his character to stay out late. Jotaro didn't lie to his mother about the situation. He was honest. Jotaro informed his mother of the woman he would watch during the weekends. How his heart skipped a beat when he saw the woman riding her bike to get to the beach. How he had developed a love for the woman. Holly was pleased to hear this news. Just as jotaro feared his mother would bring this subject up every chance she got. The worst part was she told his grandfather, Joseph, about Jotaro's crush as well. Joseph, surprisingly, didn't tease Jotaro as much as Jotaro thought he would. Instead, he offered Jotaro advice.

"If you honestly like this woman, sing to her Jotaro. Surely, she'll become your mate after."

Jotaro thought of disregarding his grandfather's guidance but he considered it. Soon enough, Jotaro planned the next weekend to sing you a song. Of course, he prepared himself. Jotaro hadn't sung in forever. Until then, he waited in his cave, awaiting your arrival.

The next time you came to the beach, it was different. You had traveled to the beach during the nighttime. Strolling down the street, bike in hand. You wanted to get a couple of pictures of the sea during twilight. You parked your bike against a street lamp then wrapped a heavy chain around the bicycle to ensure it wouldn't be stolen. You stumbled down the hill and fell against the sand. the grains felt cool and soft, almost like a grainy textured pillow. You sat up, shaking the sand out of your hair/ religious wear. You took several pictures of the Sapphire-colored ocean. They all were to your liking so you went to leave.

Until you heard the sounds of a deep-voiced male singing a beautiful tone, which reverberated throughout the beach.

As if you were in trance, your body followed the sound into a dark cave. Entering the cave, you examined your surroundings until your eyes landed on a muscular figure. The muscular figure was a man with long ebony wavy hair and tan skin. The man noticed your presence and motioned you over with his index finger. You obeyed his introduction. You crept closer, closer, and closer until you were face to face with the mysterious male. The male stopped singing, instead, he focused on you. You felt his hand grip your chin and pull you closer to his lip. In the corner of your eye, you saw multiple scales on his waist, almost like he had a fishtail for his lower body. Then it hit you, this wasn't a man- this was a monster. After all, his eyes were pitch black. You shrieked attempting to escape the creature's grip. The creature seemed confused by the sudden reaction, "what's wrong, did I upset you?" you didn't answer any of its questions.

In one of the last attempts to escape this monster's hold, you pulled out your camera and snapped a photo of the creature causing the flash to hurt it. The creature dropped you, covering its sensitive eyes. While it was stunned, you crawled away. Before you fled the cave, you watched as the creature sunk back into the ocean beneath the rock. You left the cave questioning yourself if you had been hallucinating.

Real or not, you wouldn't return to that beach again. Jotaro felt depressed after that night. After all, you never returned to the beach again after the experience. Jotaro pondered on what he did wrong: Was it his voice? Did he come off too aggressive? Were you just not interested? Jotaro desired to be your love. During this desperate time, he supposed he could ask his mother for advice. Jotaro's mother realized her son had fallen in love with you, so she told him the secret she kept from Jotaro. When Holly was Jotaro's age, she also met a human that caused her heart to pound. She fell in love with him. Unfortunately for her, Holly could never be his lover since she was a siren and he was human. Or so she thought. One day she came across a sea witch. Holly sold her soul to the witch to become human. She did end up becoming human, but she missed her father and mother, so the witch gave her a potion that turned her lover into a siren as well.

Jotaro had his mother give up the location of the lair. The next day, when night fell, Jotaro ventured to the sea witch's lair. He entered cautiously. The cave was eerie. Jotaro hadn't even come inside yet. Jotaro pushed himself forward, reminding himself this was all for you. 

"Searching for me, young man?"

Jotaro looked to his side, watching as a blonde male appeared out of the darkness. Jotaro's jaw clenched. Jotaro did not like this at all. The male in front of him gave him a bad feeling. He was a walking red flag, from those pricing red eyes to his never-ending smirk. "If I were to guess your reasoning for your appearance, it would be to find I, Lord Dio, and make a deal for the item you desire most." the man smirked.

After giving Dio his soul, Dio granted Jotaro a red potion, "this is for the girl." Jotaro raised an eyebrow, "Only if you wish to turn her into a siren." Dio granted Jotaro's wish by turning him human. Jotaro could still transform into a siren only when he touched water.

At the crack of dawn, Jotaro swam up to the shore. Jotaro unhurriedly stepped out of the water. He was taken aback for a moment when catching sight of his legs, yet, he got over the shock quickly. Suddenly, pain shot from his waist down. Jotaro fell to the ground groaning in pain. Walking wasn't going to be simple; it felt like knives had been stabbing him when he took a step. All morning Jotaro trained himself to walk. Jotaro had gotten the hang of walking but still wobbled and tripped over himself.

Now that Jotaro knew how to walk, he needed clothes to cover his nude body.

Jotaro found a pair of clothes by stealing a passing school student's clothing. The clothes felt a bit tight, which annoyed Jotaro. The boy had a wallet in his back pocket. Inside was a heavy sum of cash. Jotaro chose to buy more fitting clothes in the mall. Jotaro didn't like the place: The building was noisy, the people stunk, and the women eyed him with lust. He had already purchased all of his clothes. All that was left was finding you.

"Alright, I'll see you later." Jotaro immediately turned toward the voice. Coming out of the ice cream shop across from the clothing store Jotaro had existed. From the clothing you were wearing, Jotaro could tell you had just gotten off your shift at work. Jotaro followed you without you noticing. He stayed far behind, somehow blending into the crowd despite his towering height.

Jotaro could tell you knew someone was watching you. The way you kept looking back with a skeptical expression told him. He departed from the crowd of strangers and hid in the shadows. He trailed behind you all the way home. By the time you arrived at your apartment door, you already knew someone was stalking behind you. You rushed and unlocked the door with your keys. You jumped inside your apartment and slammed the door closed. Well, you attempted. A hand stops the door from shutting completely.

Before you had a chance to hide somewhere in your home, a man entered. A man you hoped not to see again.

"You know, I've sold my soul to the devil for you. The least you could do is let me in."

You made an effort to run away from Jotaro, only to be snatched into his arms. You squirmed in his grip, "Let me go, you fucking monster!" you yelled. One of Jotaro's large hands gripped your cheeks together, "Listen." You stopped struggling because his grip grew to be intolerable. "I'll give you a choice, y/n. Either you and I stay humans, we live a life together as lovers. Or I shove his potion into your mouth, and you become a monster like me where you will also have to live your life as my lover."

"Like it or not, you are meant to be by my side. So choose wisely."

#jjba x reader #jojo x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #yandere jjba #jjba stardust crusaders #jotaro x reader #jotaro x you #yandere jotaro kujo #yandere tw #yandere siren #yandere jojo #jotaro kujo x reader #josuke #koichi #yukako #okuyasu #stalking #yandere tendencies #yandere joseph

[luxmoogle]

ALRIGHT WASSUP I love your art style and am an art student so I know a little bit bout what makes art recognizable, (not an expert and definitely not good at remembering terms so don't act like this is some art bible) lemme tell you what I think makes your art recognizable and "lux".

First, you got your shape language. That would be what the other person was referring to as proportions. (Since we're talking about Sora, proportions is absolutely not a wrong word to use, but I'm going to talk about shapes specifically.) The cheek? Always the exact same little curve, same spot, the forehead is the same, which creates a head shape that is incredibly recognizable as you. The hair is also always the same, which may seem weird considering your drawing hair that's pre established but you have a very unique way of doing it. The shape of his lower hair on the back of his head especially stands out to me. His body is always the same type of lanky, you draw his arms and hands a very particular type of way. Overall, very recognizable and consistent.

The colors you use. Honestly, I don't even know how to describe this, and I literally took a class on colors. The only word I can think of is "surreal". They're usually very vibrant, but destaturated at the same time? Like you're taking vibrant colors and putting desaturated ones on top? Genuinely hard to describe. It is one of the most beautiful color jobs I've ever seen tho, and I'm not exaggerating. If you could explain I'd honestly love to try (read: steal) whatever technique you use. Also very consistent, even in the black and white photos. I think it's partially lighting but I digress.

The other person brought up your eyes, and that's probably one of THE most consistent parts of your art I notice. I'm not rly gonna go into detail, cause you said you worked on eyes a lot so I'm gonna just leave you to that honestly cause the eyes you draw are iconic imo. Beautiful. Stunning. Breathtaking. No notes just keep it up 🫡

Your lines (and the texture of the drawing) are specifically sketchy, like a very specific type of sketchy. I'm guessing it's the texture of the brushes you use, and it also makes it consistent and recognizable. This is probably one of the things that makes the black and white photos more recognizable as well, since they don't technically have colors to with with and, imo, that's one of the most recognizable parts of your art. The very specific shapes you use are about on par with the colors, with everything else gradually moving down the list.

So yeah. My mini essay on your art. I hope this helps you understand cause honestly? Your art is iconic. Gorgeous. Magnificent. I dream of drawing like you. Pls keep it up cause on god it brightens my day every time I see you post, art or no

I appreciate you taking the time to write out such a long and thoughtful post~! ❤️ This was a very interesting and fun read! I am in many ways completely blind to my own work. Unlike looking at someone else's work, it's very hard to distance myself far enough from my own to see it's prominent features.

For color I can I say I am aware of color theory and mostly follow a sensible routine of cool shadows and warm light points, things that are further away seem more blue etc. etc... But at some point while drawing/painting I do usually fall into adding and prodding the colors into a more impressionistic vibe and away from realism, mostly favoring cool toned colors and adding tones to places that they realistically shouldn't be, but they aesthetically please me, so.

Thank you for all the compliments, I've re-read this quite a few times now, but don't really know what to say besides a boring thank you~! This has left me a lot to ponder, and I'm very glad for your writing..!

Hope you have a wonderful rest of your day, take care~!❤️

#ask #answer #my ramblings #lovely #❤️

[iheartvelvetandveneer]

ALRIGHT.

So, my account is dusty... So, let's dust it off with an un-requested fanfic!!! I'm just going to do a Veneer x FEM! Reader because I have fake scenarios in my head before I go night-night. TW/ WARNINGS: None? It's kind of fluff but there is kissing. Key!: (t/h) - Textured hair (f/c) - Favorite color (c/c) - Choice of color (e/c) - Eye color (s/c) - Skin color (___) - Your name! (m/n) - Middle name! (l/n) - Last name! (h/t) - Hair type/texture (h/c) - Hair color

Veneer adored you. Well, he wasn't a stalker, but he did follow you on his alt Instagram account. You made amazing art, sang amazing, and looked amazing. You were extremely nice as well. Of course, Velvet would always tell him dating someone would distract him from being a celebrity. But he never really wanted to be famous in the first place. He just wanted to make and keep his sister happy. Veneer liked being famous more than he did when the two started, but at the same time, it felt like selling your soul just to have who practically worship you, and just to obtain money. But anyway, one day he was scrolling on his phone, it was a boring day. There, surprisingly wasn't anything happening that day. And he was on Instagram mindlessly scrolling, until he saw you. It was like love at first sight! ... for him. He didn't really know if you knew who he was. And he was okay with that. For once in forever, there was possibly someone who wasn't keeping up with the trends, or who was famous, or who had a baby and then got a divorce right after. He wanted to follow you, but he didn't want to cause a fuss, so he created a fake account. It wasn't anything special, but it was really so he could follow you. After following you, he logged back into his main account, and stalked yours a few minutes. There were videos of you at concerts, singing at bars, painting commissions, things like that. Your music interest was definitely something he hadn't heard before, it wasn't rock or punk, but it was something like indie? Or was it soft rock? Or experimental? He didn't quite know, but you definitely had somewhat a music taste. You were semi-famous, not too much. You were fresh meat to the music business it seemed like. You had concerts at small places, like a coffee shop, or bars. It was usually bars, but people were really interested in you and the music you wrote. Sometimes you would sing your favorite songs but mostly it was songs of your own. But he didn't like you because of your music, he liked you because you were you. You had bright (e/c) eyes, soft (s/c) skin, and (h/t) (h/c) hair. You were simply beautiful. And don't get him started on your smile, when he would see it on his page, it was like time stopped. He also loved how nice you were, your voice as well. He loved how comfortable you were around your friends and family, you were perfect. There was not a doubt in his mind about that. But what really stopped his heart was when he saw you in the crowd of one of his shows a few days later. You were having fun, and it seemed you had a few friends come with you. You were singing along while taking a video. Not of him and Velvet, but of you and your friends. Though, he did something that would get a very stern talking-to from Velvet, but he did care (OKAY THIS PART IS NOT MY ORINGINAL IDEA!!! THIS FROM A DIFFERENT VENEER X READER FICC!!! ILL FIND THEM SOON AND CREDIT THEM.) He jumped off the stage, and the crowd went wild, but Velvets face was stunned. Veneer grabbed your phone, mid-recording, and videoed himself with you beside him, and had said something that he was not supposed to.

"Hey! I know your from Instagram and your just an amazing, talented, nice, and beautiful with a side, of adorable person! Here's my number: 145-887-534-9034 (FAKE NUMBER.) Call me cutie!" He winked before giving the phone back to you, and you and your friends were practically crying. You didn't know what he said, but it must've been something important for him to take your phone.

TBD!!!! GIVE ME FEEDBACK. I actually have shared any of my writing on any social media so bare with me!!! Part 2. will be soon! Love yall! HELP IM NOT PROOFREADING IT.