#Professional Shadow Sculpting

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How Shadow Creation Services Can Transform Your Graphics

Professional Shadow Design

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Shadow Portrait Design

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Creative Shadow Sculpting

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Artistic Shadow Imaging

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Innovative Shadow Silhouettes

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When it comes to shadow silhouettes, we believe in pushing the boundaries of creativity. We constantly explore new techniques and materials to create unique and innovative silhouettes that defy expectations. Whether you're looking for a classic and timeless silhouette or a more abstract and contemporary design, our team can bring your vision to life.

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In conclusion, Shadow Creation Services is your go-to destination for professional shadow artwork that has the power to transform your graphics. Whether you're looking for a custom shadow portrait, a unique shadow display, or a captivating shadow sculpture, our expert team is dedicated to bringing your vision to life. With our creative approach, attention to detail, and expertise in shadow art, we can elevate your space and create a memorable experience for your audience. Contact us now to experience the magic of shadow art firsthand!

[puckpocketed]

who is #43?

Hello !! First off thank u for visiting. If you clicked read more by accident rip sorry it’s a lot of text. ENJOY!!! <3

1. This was the photo reference I used. I really did mean it when i said he photographs well!! I really like how scrungly he looks at times lol. v paintable

2. here’s a timelapse for your viewing pleasure in video + gif form <3

3. Process breakdown below. I am not formally trained, so don’t take any of this as professional advice!! The way i paint has been compared to channeling some evil contract with a demon also. So um . Im saying that i dont remotely think that this is efficient or correct, its just whats comfortable for me <3

3a) the dreaded lining phase. I have 2 modes of operation when it comes to painting - either i go full-dick with fancy inking/sketching + cel shading (rare, unrefined, haven’t figured out a nice workflow yet) OR i do a very very basic chicken scratch set of lines like so:

It’s less about being realistic here and more about laying down some guide lines for the chaos ahead. If i thought i could get away with it, I would start every rendered painting i do with laying down colours — but unfortchh ive tried that before and it usually ends in really weird proportions. Even with the lines i still need to make adjustments. This is something no people except me would notice but look at the above sketch; the eyes are too big and slightly too far apart, the forehead is too small and thus the hair is also not quite big enough… I have a bad habit of drawing eyes too big on faces, they’re my favourite facial feature to draw.. i barely resisted giving him big cow eyelashes (I love big cow eyelashes… all of my OC’s and most of my more stylised fan art of characters get big cow eyelashes… god…. Big cow eyelashes SAVE ME……….)

Anyway. Structure of the face + hand somewhat established. <3

3b) Underpainting!! Okay stay with me here . Ever since i figured out i dont have to paint in 03925893853 different layers, I’ve joyfully painted on 1 layer as much as possible. I dont have the brain power all the time to be managing layers so I simply dont work with that many layers. For this painting, the skin in its entirety was painted on one layer, the hair on another layer, and the effects on the last layer. There was a placeholder background off-white/grey colour for a while there, and I duplicated the line layer — one for figuring out where to lay colours, and one hidden for later so i could check back to see how accurate to the sketch/proportions were to the actual painting. 6 layers, 2 of which i painted the bulk of the piece on, 1 more at the end.

3c) here’s where I started carving out features. I think about objects in terms of volumes and light rather than lines. i love painting and sculpting because of this!! Here you see where I’ve begun to define his features — his eyelids, his bags, his nostrils. Just refining what was there before. The suggestion of facial hair before i gave it up and left it for later (his face is so naked the WHOLE time)

3d) nose bridge highlight, suggesting his eyebrows, a cheek highlight. A touch more coral red and muted yellow pull away from the grey/blue underpainting. Strategically leaving some of it peeking through.

3e) i truly start messing with the fidelity of his features here. Red lipstick <3 and some violet/blue for shadows on the right side of his face.

3f) the part where it starts looking like q.hughes to me (though, my friend said i got his vibe pretty early on which is such a compliment.. waaaaa…..) I love this part of every painting i do. I know it’s definitely not the Correct order since other parts of the entire painting are simply Not Rendered or Done, but whos gonna stop me?? :3

I love love loveeee painting faces. Adding the little shinies to his eyes + lips + upper lip + nose … you don’t know how much of a difference it makes until you do it. Also i snatched his eyebrows

3g) i really pushed the red/coral/ochre/orange here. Note the yellow highlights on his cheekbones, the forehead, and the thin thin line of pink right between where his bottom lip ends and his chin shadow starts <- very important . To ME!!!!!!! Also highlighting his waterline and adding his lashes was so so fun <3

3h) FACIAL HAIR!!! And I started rendering his hand. Some micro adjustments made to his face for proportion check.

3i) i start painting his hair in earnest and realise his forehead is too small so i make the adjustment. I really love how it falls into his eyes in this photo. <3

3j) i make some final adjustments to his eyes — a bit smaller, closer together. And i refine the outline of his jaw, push the stylisation of it just a little.

3k) Finishing details; his flyaway hairs, his moles, a bit of texture on his face, shadows cast by his hair, his little forehead cut <3

3l) i adjusted his hand here, added more texture to his skin, refined his hair a tiny bit more, and made the decision not to fuck around painting his jersey because i wanted the focus to be his face <3

3m) Canucks blue and green. Captain at 23. His form bleeds into the background. He is the franchise.

theee most fun ive had painting anything. and i finally feel... warmed up? if that makes sense. art for me is like. if i dont do it in a while it feels like nothing goes right when i come back to it. i hate that feeling, and the most difficult hurdle to clear is letting myself feel that until i get back into my Zone. after all this time i feel like im BACK !!!!!!!

i loved painting this fella. hes SO Shaped. <3

Apologies i simply do Not have the energy to write the alt text for all of these so i hope the little blurbs are okay aslkjasdklj. i gotta post and go to bed . if u made it this far, thank you for reading!!

[overtaken-stream]

Where On3 Will St4nd

King The Wildfire x F!Lunarian!Reader

100+ Followers Special!! I APPRECIATE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE SUPPORT!! <3 (This was posted so late oml) This bad boy has been cooking in my drafts for close to a year and a half it feels like, it is very much burnt to a crisp. Thank you anon who asked me about King meeting another of his race! This would not be here without you <3

Also, sorry for the grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language.

word count: 8.9k

Warnings: incorrect cultural description(?)/practices(?), Self-harm(Burns), Imprisonment, Timeline is a mess don't come at me.

( The Land of a Demon )

Onigashima is an intimidating island; the smell of ash penetrates every corner of the scene where a battlefield will unfold. There are no flowers to add color to the brown mud and grey rocks, no snowflakes to grace the island or land on the red mist. The only thriving presence is the skull, where the fire emanates—the lair of a wrongdoer rotting and resting in this sinful place.

The skull, or rather, the rock resembling a creature much like the one on Thriller Bark—Oars, to be exact—was its name. But even he, the Junior, paled in comparison to the Skull Dome. No human could have sculpted it; giants, maybe, but even then, there are doubts.

It was formidable for you to step into the den of a beast earlier than expected, where you would be alone and defenseless. The dreadful aura the place is emitting is fitting for an Emperor of the sea. The deeper you went, the lighter you felt, the fearsome and overwhelming feeling was replaced by the intimidating, and may I say, strict walls you can find in the Wano Kuni, or the Flower Capital to be more exact, the only thing Onigashima lacks is the malnourishment that comes with Shoguns' rule, the exhausted faces of workers, the food prices and the dirtied outskirts. The separation of morals between the Wano Kuni and Onigashima shows clearly in the environment, it's like stepping into a completely different world, detached by the innocent victims who got birthed in this tangle of knotted rope, a mess, a sculptor done masterfully by manipulators of different social hierarchies. It's an art piece that took lives. A work in progress.

Their happiness depends on us. The ones who took it in the first place. The pirates.

We are the only people who bleed flames and light up the shadowed space that is Wano.

Soon.

...Soon.

After the worrying incident of the crew splitting apart yet again to get Sanji back and despite your worries for the polite cook- you were among the majority who continued traveling toward Wano. The plan was for you to become a Geisha working alongside Robin to get selected by the Shogun, but at last, the paths split and here you were in the den of beasts.

There was little chance of concealing your true identity in Wano; the absence of hair dyes posed a challenge. However, with strategic tying, the Obi belt effectively concealed the main factors that could give you away. The uncomfortable sensation is so familiar that you've learned to master not showing the everlasting pain on your face. The lightened makeup applied by the elderly further masks your skin, with red lips complementing your Obi and velvety gloves. The black hue of your flower kimono, snug tightly to your legs, hinders your pace, restraining you from keeping up with other women who, despite being more nervous, are less experienced in the field of treachery. Tonight, it will be challenging to differentiate professionals from novices, and you vow to take advantage.

The occasionally beautiful scenery inside the castle fails to comfort you amidst the fast-beating hearts; it is unsettling. The empty halls, guided by one of Kaido's puppets, make everyone dizzy with the maze-like walls—plain, hard to remember its turns.

In what way did the he turn last time?

The candles dwindle in plain sight as the floor creaks, accommodating the heavy steps of someone on the other side of the hallway. The sound becomes more vivid as it picks up pace, running past your group from the other side of the wall, capturing the attention of a soldier who turns and continues guiding with an anxious face.

It's only when the others, approximately ten pairs of feet, follow suit that you realize the commotion beside the separation. Judging by the soldier's expression, it seems to be a normal occurrence. However, you do not halt your steps; you continue to motionlessly follow, much like a sheep. It turns out the other women have the same idea.

There's an Oni free of its cage.

Debris falls from the shaking ceiling onto your shoulders. You wipe the black fabric clean, huffing as you quicken your pace, gently pushing the ladies to make way. The man, with spiky brown hair, takes another turn to the right this time.

``Sir, how far are you going to make us walk? Do you want us to be gasping for breath when we entertain our customers?`` You ask in a monotone voice, the impatience underlines your words, while your facial expression is the same as the one you entered with.

The soldier angles his neck to look up at you before his expression turns sour.

Lazy sons of bitches are too tired to answer a simple question. Tsk.

Your eye twitches as you await his answer. Not minding the spooked expressions of the ladies.

``Just above this floor.``

You only take your eyes off of him when the dark wood stairs come into view. It's been twenty years since the Beast Pirates invaded Wano Kuni and the history of Onigashima, they left a mark that will be impossible to remove. The residue of red that has maintained its place on the stairs is proof of that, who knows how many more illicit and barbaric things this place... This Country has witnessed. Who knows how many more will be lost.

Yet, people ignore it for their safety, geisha act no differently, even if they feel the warmth of a body no longer on the bottom of their okobo, they don't look down. For their security. Though you seem to be unable to look up, whoever the unfortunate victim was, you wish them a peaceful afterlife.

You hold in what anger you have, clenching your fists onto the sides of your kimono. There will come a time for you to spill it.

Soon.

...Soon.

A dreadful feeling emanates within the group, snapping you out of your daydreams. You didn't mean to get lost in your head, but the moment you let the fabric loose, the double door opens, and the women hurry their way to spots alongside every wall, unhappiness settling in their guts. They put their knees onto the soft purple cushions. Your eyes travel over the shamisen lying beside the cushion you were supposed to rest on. The three-stringed instrument you pick up seems to be brand new—unused and unprepared. However, even as you fix the strings, you feel relieved. Kyo Mai is a slow dance with complicated steps, and your confined wings always disturb your enactment. You were supposed to play the instrument and stay hidden among the performers, even with your snow-white hair and height.

The door opens right after everybody picks up their fans, you hid away in the background with the shamisen now in the proper hold.

(Away from the intimidating aura the girls seem to be spooked of. They don't break under the pressure. They repeat what was practiced.)

Here they come.

The All-Stars.

( Eyes That Follow )

From the three goliaths that were sitting and having an exchange, you've decided that Queen was the worst out of all of them. His immense and twisted pride shows even during his interactions with the women currently swarming his sides, the sadism that chokes the air out of every woman doesn't reach the beasts.

He calls it... “Flirting” it's not obvious to the naked eye but the girls feel uncomfortable, even when they smile, you can tell. It's for survival they smile. It's for survival they nod their heads as Queen throws compliments at a woman who isn't here. Komurasaki.

You feel sorry for the girl, to have Queen captivated was horrifying. You hold hope that Komurasaki will never meet him in person, even as your eyes continue to wander over Queen, for he, even if the filthiest of the All-Stars, was the most social one. A star scientist. It's when Queen starts practicing his singing talent that one of them calls.

``Oi.``

You straighten up. From on top Jack, The Drought looks down at you.

``Could you start the music already?`` His unreacting eyes only leave your face when you answer with an apology. It was obvious he was trying to silence Queen.

As you pull the shamisen closer to your body, you can hear the blond's offended complaints soon be replaced by the excitement when he realizes the Geishas' standings.

``Well, aren't you a beauty with white hair of yours, musician? Though no one will beat my Komurasaki! That bastard Shogun! Such a shame.``

You aren't sure what he pulls out of his pocket—a paper of some kind? A picture. You thought maybe some information would leak out of their mouths, yet the only conversations you hear are Queen's complaints and praises towards the women. Lost in your own mind, studies continue to mix. Is Kaido awarding his men before the festival? It seems unlikely, but unfortunately, that might be the case.

As you begin the melody of "Crane Wedding," there isn't another noise except Queen's malicious giggles interrupting you. That is until the sounds of squeaking leather picks up in the trapped room. You fix your eyes on the instrument while somebody else's eyes drill into your face, past your cosmetics and the flawless kimono. They don't move from your face; in fact, you might even think they are staring past your soul. You can feel their eyes travel to your neck, covered by the geisha's makeup. They stare, and you don't dare to look up meet meet them.

The pleasant music of yours doesn't halt as a geisha brings in the food, throwing a quick and nervous glance your way, but soon she too turns towards one of the three men who called her, leaving you alone with that crushing stare. The time stretches along with the performance; the short melody now feels like a loop of endless tactics put together. Lovely notes turn into a disgusting mess of mud inside your mind, plugging your ears and forcing you to hear the way your heart speeds up, noticing his eyes cling onto the darker color not peeking from under the makeup. You're nervous, as are the dancing geisha, whose only audience is Queen at this point. It's soon when the second, heavy pair of eyes turn towards you, but this one is much quicker to leave you be.

That must have been Jack.

King. He's the one that continues to stare.

The corner of your lips twitches after the realization. You try to keep away from falling and dissecting below his gaze. It lasts even after the dance was finished, his red eyes hold you hostage for the most part, even when you get up and do what your teacher, a sweet old lady has taught you.

It's fear, not of him, but rather afraid of him finding out what no outsider should know.

It's doubt, he is doubting you. Suspecting you, yet he asks no question. He only stares you down like a predator when you finally meet his crimson eyes. Your (E/C) eyes reflect his fully leathered top half.

You aren't afraid of him, no you can't be, you've faced many opponents in your 25 years of living, and you've gone through the suffering even the strongest men cannot withstand.

You are a Straw hat.

You are part of a future Pirate Kings crew. You cannot be intimidated by a mere second in command. You hold your head up high.

It turns out to be the right action that causes him to back down slowly, surely you are let go from the muddy waters.

( Eye to Eye )

The sunrise began as Jack got up, and soon Queen followed him. After his callouts to King, who threw an audible shut-up in his way but did not move from the spot he was standing, Queen wasn't convinced until Jack bulldozed through the door opening and intentionally dragged Queen out of the way.

The poker face you've kept up so far slips when King calls every woman out of the room except you. You can feel Haki building its way through your veins, but you don't jump to conclusions, even as he gets closer to you with a towering height difference, his latex and bands stay unmelted when the fire on his back explodes, little sparks jumping towards you, who is by now trapped between the wall and the giant. You can feel the hot sparks on your clothing land and extinguish themselves, The conclusion is slow beneath his red eyes that are staring at you so angrily, any other emotion so hard to read beneath the mask that thoroughly covers every part of his body, the folded black wings are no exception.

Besides blocking your means of escape, he has yet to do anything physically, the temperature in the room rises with how fast the heat is produced on his back. The fire is so familiar you might even get lost in it, in the old times, when fewer shit stains were roaming the planet. It makes you sweat underneath all the tight clothes you're wearing, especially on your back where the wings have started to ruffle, trying to let some air into its layers to no avail.

You wish you had talent in observation haki to determine what he was going to do next.

You flinch when his right arm raises from where it slept beside his thighs, it slowly gets closer to your frozen form, even if you try to lean away, there is no point, you realize. You are tall, but as both of you stand beside each other, He towers over you, but his intention isn't to intimidate you. The instinct is your strong suit and your weakest point.

You can feel the leather wipe away at your excessive makeup, from your cheek to your platysma his hand travels with a heavy heart on its sleeve.

If King was anyone other than King, you would have slapped it away.

If only he didn't share traits you are so familiar with.

If only you didn't share traits he is so familiar with.

You can feel the cosmetics dragging and staining his gloves, wiping away half of your disguise easily, thanks to the heat, he keeps a note of your half-disguised face with calculating... Wide eyes. The other half of your face, one that stayed untouched, must be melting.

It's the shaky puffs of air released from his mask that gives him away, the sudden rise in temperature in an already hot room, it must almost be 40°C, yet he does not budge.

Is he relieved...? Enthusiastic much...?

Not a word is said when he takes his arm away, now covered in white. You can see the way the pupils shake, you are sure he can see yours too, the furrowed brows and slightly parted lips of yours must be a giveaway.

The wings.

The eternal inferno.

A laugh escapes in the room-turned-oven, a nervous laugh of a feminine voice. You must be in shock to have fallen so low. Not even trying are you?

In a world that ought to hunt your kind down, to exterminate the past, the world that succeeded in destroying your kind, you don't feel alone. Or... You will no longer.

In the fervor, the mask comes off, leaving his sweat-covered face uncovered for you to see.

(``What tells that you are the only survivor?`` King used to ask himself back in his younger years before he made it clear how erroneous that question was, not to mention unlikely. It a proof of his childish innocence and the improvement. If more of his kind existed, they would be in the hands of the Government, doing god knows what to them. It always made the locked space of memories in his subconscious bubble up and boil over in quiet rages and liquor-companied nights. As he looks at your somewhat clean face, he is comforted by the pitiless thought that, by some luck, someone else managed to survive the hell he also went through. He wishes he could feel at ease, but he has to be sure. He has to eliminate every doubt in his mind.)

It's not out of intimacy and lust that he asks an inappropriate question to your calmed self about stripping. The surprised look in your eyes indicates a misunderstanding of his intentions. It's only mutual trust that guides him to do what he does next. Slowly but surely, he tries to pull his mask off, letting the tight piece tug at his scalp as he sets his hair free. Only when the temperature doesn't change, even when his skin feels the air, does he let the fire return to its original size.

King The Wildfire, only looks down at your complicated emotions. Even if he does not remember the company of his people, he would truly be a fool not to recognize his own biology. Though he doesn't hold onto hope, suspicion still lingers in his red eyes. It differs from your beaming laugh full of shallow happiness, representing more of a nervous tick than anything. It's been so long since he has heard a laugh not accompanied by sadistic undertones—exploiter gifters who dared to approach him—and the liquor Kaido keeps so close during his episodes.

``... I apologize for the heat."

You smile with somewhat shocked eyes looking up at him. ``...You know, it's been a while since I've felt the excitement of my kind.`` a nervous sigh you let out lead the conversation.

`` you don't have to apologize.``

``Yes... I-`` He has forgotten many unique reflexes with time. For this instance, it doesn't pains him. Every day he forgets what distinguishes the instincts of Lunarians, for he feels less of his kind.

He counts it as a sin, a shameful part of adulting, a side effect of having to live among the likes of Kaido's men, therefore his choice.

You acknowledge his position with his back turned to the door, sitting down cross-legged as he mentions for you to do the same. You obey, his wings hovering over you and hiding your figure from the outside world.

He asks once more to turn your back to him. You try to find any joke to fit in the thick air of nervous glances, but you find none. The unconscious mutual loyalty the both of you have towards one another is born by the shared traits, of family. Of shared pain.

You take the Obi belt in your hands and off of your waist.

He has many questions he cannot get out of his mouth, but for now, he keeps quiet. He is sure you have no intention of reliving the hell on earth that is the past.

You turn your back to a beast with the pattern of a face on its back.

As you take the black fabric of your kimono off, layer by layer the cold bites at your wet body, and the salty smell lets out into the heated air, though none of you care for the odor. You drop the kimono just below your belly button and let the relief that comes with letting your wings flex and take hold.

With a fast-beating heart, King watches.

It's in a haze that he reaches out to your back, his fingers connecting to the shoulders where the wings come from, sending a shiver down your sweat-covered spine, they're smaller he thinks, more fragile than him, though there is no difference in the power of flame and healing when it comes to genders. She could make them bigger when required. They aren't fragile, they are as powerful as his, but the size difference makes it easy to tickle his instincts, long forgotten and left in the past, starving for attention. His hands run over your coracoid, trying to find the place where the feathers meet the skin, attempting to find the evidence that you are real.

He barely hears your name, caught in the view of the wings turning from black to dark blue at different angles. Though he doesn't answer, he has already shown you enough of himself, it is no longer essential. King will do just fine.

The wings are erogenous, however, even if you shiver under the sensitive touches, no lust taints the special moment between the survivors.

``(Y/N).`` you spell out your name.

By instinct, his fire becomes ablaze when his hand sneaks up your humerus, lingering touches ruffling your feathers as the fire licks at your ungroomed wing. It lights the reflective white strands of hair that escaped from Geiko Shimada. The warmth on your back is comforting to the point where you lean your wings into it. Finally, you light the eternal flame, his hand engulfed in your flames goes undamaged. It extracts and attracts the fire from his hand into the center of your spine, causing the fire to grow and spread onto your wing feathers.

Looking back you're met with what you would call, a confused face of King whose features have been caught in the yellow glow of a fire that you are able to control.

King only stares at your almost nude form with a wrinkle of thought between his eyebrows.

( Guard )

In the way King shelters you, with him beside you and you hidden in the massive wing as he walks into his chambers, you would be wrong if you said you aren't anxious. Happy but skeptical. You doubt he'll hurt you, but the mask locking away his facial structures works as an intimidation factor.

The click of a lock on his door is the only sound that disturbs the silence. Now you are in his territory, his nest.

``King?`` you turn around to look at him.

``Where did you come from.`` It's scary how quickly and unnoticeably he changes his mood. But it is probably because the enthusiasm has passed and questions have started to surface, what you thought to be a nice welcome, turns into icy bars locking you out of your getaway, just like earlier. His red eyes leave a permanent mark on your (E/C) ones.

Where did you come from. that's not a question. Questions don't make you feel as if the warmth has left your body and sent shivers down your spine. They don't drag you down the lone caves and lock up your respiratory system.

Questions aren't meant to stop time. But the way both of you aren't moving, they might as well.

You have to be careful with every word and syllable you mutter. ``I've come fro-``

``How are you alive.``

``I-``

You barely have time to finish your answers before he's asking another one, slowly he steps toward you. In the dark, his leather shines, but as you take another step back you cannot help but glance at his wings. How the moonlight seems to bend with each curve of his feathers, sinking into the crevices and lightening them up in a blue hue, similar to you, but unlike the yellow glow, King's replaced by the white. You can't help but be deprived.

There is only one sentence that is louder than the rumble coming from within him. The declaration you acknowledge within all the noise clogging your ears.

You don't feel the suffocation of this situation, nor do you hear King's voice anymore. The pressure (Despite the windows being open) comes from the claustrophobic chamber. Your wings stay close to your back. The masked face looks down on your kimono, his pupils have seemed to freeze on your form, and the angry aura that he emits is all but a facade of defense. His jaw is moving but all you can hear is a rumble that pours out deep from his chest, it's incredibly loud yet deaf to the ears of normal humans, the volume that should shake walls only quiver your brain.

The moonlight seems to cage you in, showing your footsteps to a starved predator, it's the devil's eye that replaces the moon, with red pupils that stare you down. He overshadows your form, sending warnings throughout your system-

The possessiveness only sends shivers down your spine.

(Fight or flight?)

From somewhere far away, a boy with a straw hat on his face lifts his head from where it's laying in a hammock, letting the yellow straws that are incapable of being split slowly drop onto his bandaged chest. The rough feel of the same material wraps around his forehead trapping a few black strands of hair with it.

He grumbles, the ache in his limbs starting to become much more obvious, with half-lidded eyes Luffy looks up from the opening of the hammock, letting his head peek over at the sleeping skeleton currently knocked out in the same way Luffy was supposed to be.

Something's happening.

He is sure of it, but with grogginess biting away his consciousness, he has no energy left to chase after that feeling, he turns his stiff body the other way, peeking from the left he comes face to face with the man who is a family member in all but blood, who he got back just a few hours ago.

He smiles and lies back down, from the position he is in, a window the size of his head stays open, it shows the moon and the stars twinkling their way into existence.

He wonders what others must be up to, are they watching the moon with him? Basking in its glow like a tiger?

He hates that he has to keep them waiting, but it was necessary.

Soon.

...Soon he'll be there.

Wait for him... A little more!-

( Domain )

There's something cataclysmic lurking in the walls of his chambers, causing your ears to bleed. The shackles rattle loudly next to your helix as you scratch at your ear, only making the headache worse. The heavy pull of sea stone brings down your mood. Rough exterior already leaving its mark on your hands

The mirror rests across the bed, compelling the disheveled mess of yourself to face the view. Hair strands fall on the sides of your face, greasy with gel, and your face—oh God, your face—appears smudged, as if the color is melting away. The swollen eyes that signal a newly awakened person squint to see your reflection.

The clothes are still on your body despite being passed out on the enormous bed of a murderer, a killer, and a tyrant's sidekick last night. Another ridiculous error to add to the imaginary board.

Back when King unleashed the color of the Supreme King on your cornered self you didn't dare fight back, and the shackles were here in the form of consequence to your conclusion.

The room was dark, with the only source of light being the window next to the mirror. The bars on the outside really make you feel at home. The decor set a scene suggesting no man had ever lived there. Occasional scratches marked the floor, and the specially modified bed, along with what you could only guess was a closet, were all tailored to fit his taste. Gothic undertones and a taste reminiscent of some old king's private quarters defined his preferences. You could barely discern the detailing on the bed and the strangely designed closet colored in black and gold. The dominating dark blue swallowed any light that entered the room, and there was a door to your left, likely leading to the bathroom.

The quiet morning was disturbed by the entrance of King, he stands in front of the same door you remember entering last night.

You feel quite disgusted.

``I didn't expect you to be awake.`` For a moment before you passed out, you didn't either.

The uneasy eyes meet kings' as time stills. Dragging out the undesirable connection. It only serves to tug your heart down to your gut. The happy moment, the relief and sorrow for the past nothing but a distant memory in the dark shadows of a realm not your own.

He moves closer to your bed, hands dropping what seems to be extra clothes near your feet. The man doesn't flinch as you push your legs closer to your torso and away from him. The rejection is disregarded.

``You should change.`` Carefully you nod your head.

``The bathroom is over there.``His stern voice shakes the weak walls of your mind as he turns his back on you before walking over to the entrance.

You can't help but let out a shaky breath as the door is locked and you're left alone with thoughts you can not connect no matter how hard you try, it only serves to make tremors run up your spine and into your fingertips, it's a dread invading a carefully maintained flesh you tried to protect with the hands of a child once. The deep noise your restraints produce was nothing but a ghost of your past just a couple of days ago. The weight on your wrists burns. The crackle is deafening and bone-shaking. There's no one else to hear you.

``... I need...`` Time to think, to process. Your lips shiver.

The soft white walls are nothing but an illusion. You wonder if the blue-colored room of a beast is a delusion.

The eyes and the goggles flash before you, white coats accompanied by bloodlust run over your thoughts.

Breathe.

You push your knees off of the bed, sweat traveling down your face, the cold is in no way a comfort.

The warm water is what tempts you to tread the wooden floor.

( Lone Wolf )

The water is hot against your skin as the shower head lets the boiling droplets escape freely from the metal, and steam coats the world in the lightest tints. King brings the ache you've long forgotten existed ever since the smile of a boy with the straw hat lit your life full of shadow. You wish you could be happy in the burning downpour, you deserve it, however, the inferno on your back heals the drawbacks, leaving no trace of your accomplishments which took more than a couple of burns to earn.

And you wonder what have you done to earn this.

The happiness of no longer carrying the guilt was relieving, even if it lasted for a couple of minutes.

As a little lady you would wish for a knight to come and take you away to the land of dreams, make the walls just a bit more colorful and alive in the world that burns dreams. The warm hands would he have, the soft look and the shine in his eyes, the wings on his back, and the fire that would put the sun to shame with its flames. The honey on his lips and the daisies in your hair.

The desires were harmless, they gave you hope, something a human would have.

(You can still taste the metal. You can feel the debris fall and you hear their landing making the ground of pure white shake.

Your instincts would only let you run. Would only make you avoid the black broken bricks covered in glitter. Shining green from the light and smoke.

You have no idea what exploded. You won't want to know.

That night, the girl left that place and its guards to be doomed into oblivion.

That night, a knight was left without his princess.)

The sizzling sound you feel is draining you of the energy you might need, it's a waste yet the fire on your back regenerates the lost skin again, again and again. Until you give in and stop the shower, only for the shackles to be felt around your hands. Your wings are open, fully on display.

Sensing the burns in your bones, you wonder what would have happened if you were more close to the explosion of the past, wonder if it would have been better as the water droplets fall from your wet face.

It's fairer than facing the reality that complicates the fragile string of truths once again.

Hands clenched into fists and fire growing ever hotter on your back, you wonder if you are patient enough for this, no longer does a little girl await for saving. She doesn't need to anymore. Someone else might.

It brings up a question. Can you be the light needed for one's darkest times?

You walk out of the shower with a hot back and bloody palms, the fire burns brightly above the feathers. You can only hope to fuel it forever. You keep the wings close, your captor closer.

No longer will you be truly alone.

( Purity )

If there's one thing you've learned as a child, it's that they aim for the stars, with no plan in mind and ambition in their belly, only a brave few truly make it into the sky and those who could not are left with clipped wings and broken dreams. Fragile to the point they crash onto the soil and shatter, never to be put together again.

It makes you proud that your captain never crashed down, that his wings were never clipped, you're sure that the thoughtlessness was enough to boost him to reach beyond the stars.

Before, you wondered if you were able to grab onto the lights that looked down on you during the night. Now you live to see it come true.

However, where you succeeded some failed.

And so King came crashing down with the one who put his wings back together, feather by feather, vigorous and more dreadful than ever.

He split the skies until it cried.

You refuse to allow him to recite Kaidou's doing to you. Day after day in the dark and cold chamber, your fire brightens the dark and continuously burns on your back, never once diminishing.

Nobody is allowed that pleasure.

( Prison )

Getting used to a closed environment comes naturally, as much as you hate to admit it. The dim walls are a new addition to your view, which is no longer full of white coats and a bright enclosure. The heavy shackles are much harder to familiarize with.

In a cold chamber time moves fast.

Your only interaction with the outside world is King, dark and broody, full of confidence and gentleness, he treats you as if you're fragility itself. You won't beg for a way out, you never did, humiliation over naught is an intense feeling to swallow. He's careful with his words, careful in the way he acts and reconnects with his instincts right by your side.

Day after day his visits keep a consistent schedule, with two plates of food and loneliness in his belly he strives to spend breakfast, lunch, and dinner together with you, speaking only a few words of insight. There's fire on your back yet, it does nothing to protect you from the coldness he brings. Wings stay close to your back, never truly opening in the cage. The words he says don't carry the weight of a man born for death.

One wants to lower your walls while shackling you with his, to the point that the invisible distance strains you, he is full of drought and he craves to end the famine.

Time passes and the longer you ignore the elephant in the room, the heavier its weight on your shoulders grows. You destruct yourself for a question you're not ready to hear the answer to. The pressure leads to an opening to form.

It's said in an outlandish way, heart swelling with numbness and hate tingling your fingers. Your eyes stare onward, beyond the figure meeting them.

``What are you achieving?`` Why have you caged me? Weren't you in my position once upon a time?

It stops him dead in the tracks. His eyes don't widen yet his mouth does in a way that seems robotic. The air stills, only the noise of crackling fire could be heard, heavy and rich with the enigma the man was created to be.

Why did you choose kaidou?

You want to ask.

``...Nothing. I achieve nothing.`` you ignore the strict undertone and drink the tea he brought not too long ago. It conceals the wary gulp.

``I would never have taken you for a liar.`` An intense sound is created as he slices the distance between you two with his flight, black wings ajar. a sharp feather rests near your throat. You have to be attentive. Careful to not snap the thick rope that holds his pieces together.

Blood seeps out of the cut.

``Why do you wish for death?``

``You could have murdered me the night we met.`` It's too late for your soul to perish. His reasoning for keeping you alive is clear to you.

His hand, clenching the root of a dangerously pointed feather shakes with the conflicted emotion.

Your back lights and the cut is healed.

He cannot do it, not to his kind. With a quiet grunt, King backs off to leave the chamber, his feather crumbled and abandoned on the cold wood.

Every night is spent alone on a bed made for your kind, it's just that this night feels full of plain dismay and sorrow.

The past does not visit tonight.

( The Other Side )

Your words penetrate him, though he doesn't indicate. The conversation is buried in the depths of ash, fire blooms inside of him, it rages and burns, and wherever he steps the smoke trails after him.

``Haven't you walked the same path?``

His subordinates are seated around a large table, smiles and crevices on their face.

``Do you not know darkness?``

He does. He is intimate with it.

``The hopelessness of being someones plaything?``

He can feel the heat of the past catching up to him, engulfing him in the ball of flame and strapping him on a table. He knows how it feels to be burned to oblivion, the only peace he has known. Words of madness leave his lips, everyone, including himself knows that it's empty threats, for he stands on the other side of the glass. Nothing but a guinea pig

``I know that you know it too. We walked the same path.``

He would have grabbed anyone's hand if only they reached out. It just so happened that he grabbed someone who could change the world, for the better or for worse.

He looks at the barren wasteland of Onigashima.

Was it truly a choice when your options were between freedom and its absence?

He finds that time flies swiftly when sailing. It halts when on the land.

(He has never belonged to either.)

``Why do you recite history?``

He comes to a conclusion, one of selfishness and fear. Clenched fist heats up, he does not pay attention to the rising temperature.

He craves his kind. The hopelessness is the reason he captured you.

His teeth grind against one another. He isn't on the level of humans, his superior biology won't let him stoop that low, but he finds that mentally, he and them are cut from the same cloth. Other's consequences directed him to repeat what he feared.

The thought has long since passed.

King finds it hard to care about them.

But you are entirely foreign. He can taste the smoke of Punk Hazard.

You try again and again. Lightly scratching at the metaphorical walls of him until your hands grab his heart softly, ripping the veins and staining your hands with his blood.

Your mouth only forages for the food King fetches. He wonders about you and the possibilities of it all until the voice he has gotten used to brings him back to earth, you do nothing to cushion his fall, only stalling his drop with words he feels entirely uncomfortable to understand. For the reason that he had no one to share it with.

``There's a saying about them`` You say, looking oblivious with the plate resting on your knees, mouth cooling down the food.

``A man is wolf to man.`` He gets it, King is sure he will hear your voice saying it whenever the existence of The Celestials get brought up.

``I'm glad you aren't one.``

For a moment King thinks about the blood he spilled, the curses his shoulders withstand and the beginning of it all, the things he has seen himself do, and replies.

``I could say the same.``

You can see his face, swatted with shadows even without the mask, crack, and the hidden comfort dawns on his face.

The soup in your hands is warm like the sunlight, the mask he gripped whenever entering the room rests on the bed, no longer present in his claws.

A path reveals itself to the two of you.

(There's a flower that blooms only in cold surroundings, It feeds from the ground and awaits the warmth of the sun, from the grey clouds and falling snow, the light peeks through.)

( No Regrets )

Through the window, you can smell the madness in the air, it's evident in the way King comes in while the walls around you shake with the rhythms of Queen's performance.

Your heart follows along with the melody without your consent. After all, there is not much to do with the man that you have come to accept. The walls are nothing against the booming voice of a man too loud and apathetic. But within the confines of the castle, the tense atmosphere can be felt with the help of King. Every step he takes and grunt that follows brings forth his thoughts and instincts, there's something in the air. Teetering on the edges of your mind.

The Lunarian gets closer to you, finally reaching down to your level. For minutes he stares at you, taking in your features as if you'd disappear. The leather flexes as his left-hand holds your wrist.

The red eyes don't move away. Neither do yours.

The metal spikes on his mask gleam. His eyes tell a story as his head drops down, gloved fingers sliding over the rough material of your cuffs.

Time is ticking, and you are waiting for him to succumb to temptation and finally make a move for both's sake.

King's face tilts up with a heavy sigh in tow to look at you, only for a soft smile to greet him. The cuffs are warm around your skin and cold to the room.

After all, the sun speaks of your captain's arrival.

It doesn't take many days for King to return with the key in between his fingers and no fire on his back. Your smile greets his eyes, and the knowing grin settles on your dark skin, yet the maliciousness is nowhere to be found between your lips.

Ever since his release, King has never felt at peace, perhaps he can only close the distance.

(A glimpse of sunlight was all the flower needed to rise from the frozen land.)

The heavy cuffs harshly meet the floor.

( Reunion )

The smoke is filling your lungs, the familiarity making your heart clench and bring forth a cough. The walls are stained with blood, but you don't dwell on it. Instead, you let the sounds of battle lead your wings; feeling the air make way for you is a sensation missed. The chunks of limbs and lifeless bodies are nothing but a blur in your vision. The battle has long begun, and your release from the King's chamber is far too late.

A cunning smile flashes in your mind, long black hair, and rosy cheeks decorate the memory.

``Better late than never.`` Her composed voice would say, accompanied by her icy and all-knowing stare.

Suddenly, a blue light shines through the castle wall ahead, accompanied by the noise of a gigantic object impacting from the other side. With a single flap of your wings, you pick up speed, aiming to breach the barrier. Your tough feathers shield your body as you slam into and shatter the wall's material. Unscathed, your eyes adjust to the bright figure standing on your left, emanating a stunning light that brings life to its surroundings, leaving your eyes wide. You notice a trail of smoke to your right.

You get a better look at him as the surroundings clear up.

``S-Sanji?!`` You feel quite happy to know that his issue has been resolved, judging from the way his face brightens and stands on the ground of Wano's borders. Although he always lights up near the opposite sex.

``(Y/N)-Chan?!`` His matted blond hair is a detail you only notice with the advanced eyesight your kind seems to possess. The bloody lip and his bruised forehead made him quite a sight. Although the swelling is nowhere to be seen.

You can try to make the words of delight resurface in your mouth, it's always nice to let others know of your feelings, though sometimes it sure gets hard to pull them out from the bottom of your heart.

``I'm glad to see you here!`` it lets the burden on your shoulders lighten.

Sanji responds the way you except him to.

``(Y/N)-Chwaaan!!~�� It's been so long since I last saw you!`` No longer able to contain the love in his body, the hearts burst from his very soul. Happiness fuels his wiggly movements. ``Oh, how I missed you!~``

A large smile stretches your lips, dry as a desert. ``It's nice to have you back!-``

You could have said more, but the time has already run out.

There's water leaking from the floor above, a loud shriek is heard and your back is met with a cold, menacing look from who seems to be Sanji's opponent.

The reflexes kick in, sinking into your veins, moving you out of the threat of a mechanism falling on top of you.

You'r gaze falls on the Beast. His eyes meet yours.

There's a glimmer of familiarity in his eye.

``Out of the way!`` Sanji's yell warns before the foe swings his oversized arms once more.

The amount of force needed for your wings to fly backward is more than necessary, though the opponent's swings seem to be getting swift at every dodge, the heat produced on your back strengthens your arms and then fists, and you look for an opening to get one hit in, but for a second you can see the furious blue eyes tell you his whole story, the desperation of a man becoming more clear to recognize...

You decide that this is not your battle... The heat is diminished.

( A Change )

The short encounter with the cook was not for naught, his instructions led you directed to a stadium full of warriors ready to risk their lives for a nation that has only its history to live for.

Within enemies, there are familiar faces mixed in, who are also fighting alongside you. With Kaido fighting Luffy and Sanji taking on Queen, it's only logical to assume that the first mate would go for the top of the food chain.

There's so much to do, yet the responsibility does not intimidate your kind.

You're left to protect the survivors of a war already won.

The aftermath was nothing more than a reunion for your crew.

( Hello )

The victory comes and brings midnight with it, cheers and smiles bloom on the warriors' faces as you breathe heavily, and everyone starts to tend to their wounds, burns and deep slashes are nothing compared to what they've achieved. Pirate crews are no exception, they rest and gain the energy they'll need for the morning, until then it seems that you're the only one with stamina left.

The fire on your back grows small until it vanishes completely.

Of course, after Kiado's defeat, warriors took advantage of the weakened Beast Pirates and imprisoned those who could still stand, albeit their dreams were and still are drowning in pieces far too small to see or collect. It's evident that they hold no hope for the future.

But there's a link connecting you to one of them.

You walk near the exit door, watching as men talk among each other and discuss their next step, whatever that may be. Your semblance to that man does not get mentioned by anyone after all, they have not seen his face, but the single glance from Zoro as he stayed awake for 5 seconds is enough for you to tense up, you wonder when it will be brought up. Zoro might have fallen asleep but your heart stayed heavy next to him.

It's a dangerous idea you have, suspicious even, though they must understand, Luffy's intelligence, Nami's smile, Robins's knowledge, Usopp's understanding nature, Chopper's innocent outlook, Franky's family ties, Brook's dedication, Sanji's acceptance, and Zoro's strict attitude. If a word got out, you'd have to face your friends, have to rip a bandaid off of an old wound and hold in a cry. You just have to wonder when?

Yet you still head towards the Udon Prison, consequences last in your mind, the night sky looks down upon you, the stars begging you to go back, however the dark clouds hide them away.

The night air feels nice on your skin, even as you stand above the walls keeping in the Beasts. You can tell that no one is awake, exhaustion haunts the air as you leap down on the dry ground. Mad Scientist Queen is lying face down, covered in bandages that soil the dirt underneath him red, you're glad that his snores are loud enough to hide your wings' shuffling.

The sudden chill runs up your spine and alerts your senses, face tilting sideways, you look at a disheveled man standing over you from behind.

``Hello again, King.`` He thinks of your eyes and how beautiful they look under the moonlight. Your beauty would put Luna to shame.

Your greeting is dismissed.

``Why are you here?`` His dry mouth can barely open to question you.

``To see you of course.`` This time he keeps his mouth shut. Yet his eyes observe your appearance, the dirt, and blood that soaks your Kimono.

To see him after a loss, in a state such as this is a crime that would be punished by death. You're the only exception to the rule that didn't exist yesterday.

``Let's take a seat.`` He hasn't even noticed you move into the center of the prison, too busy trying to keep all the blood inside his body to not flat-line. The bandages are not doing much, and the fire he used in his battle has extinguished itself. All his strength was used up and you wish to see him in this state? There are no words left for him to speak, so he takes the seat next to you. His knee touches yours, the intimacy is foreign.

``This calls for a celebration, don't you think? I grabbed us some booze.``

The liquor bottle nudges him and he takes it with no complaints. The reasoning for others' celebration is obvious, dethroning an emperor is a big feat for anybody.

``After all, a God has awakened.`` King knows.

His eyelids are closed yet he can see the vague silhouette of JoyBoy, the godly form only brings bitterness to his tongue, so he tries to drown it with the smoky taste of beer, which accomplishes little.

``I was mistaken.`` with Kaidou. Regret fills him.

He isn't angry at his loss as much as he is irritated.

``You were.`` The moonlight shines down on both of you. The silence is deafening, nothing but your heartbeats are heard.

``I was saved by that man.`` His head looks up at you, and each of his limbs freezes at the implication. The misery and hopelessness engulf the surroundings. He thinks about nothing except the straw hat with a red ribbon.

``I see... So you're apart of his family?``

``I am.`` the soft look in your eyes makes him envy you.

``...Are you happy?`` He doesn't know what he will do if you respond negatively. King already imprisoned you, took your independence, and chained you to him, yet you didn't burn out, How will he treat you?

``I am, were you not?`` with Kaidou? He doesn't have a straight answer, so he only responds with silence. This was a question he thinks you know the answer to.

It isn't until your hand grabs his cheeks that he opens his eyes in surprise, also realizing he closed them.

``What is that look?`` The strict tone in your voice is nostalgic. He tries to direct the conversation elsewhere, however his mind is flooded with the feeling of your warm hand on his face.

``The marines will come.``

``They'll come for you too, you know.`` You respond with the warning, the Navy isn't known for mercy after all, they'll go after the cause too.

``I don't want that... I don't... I don't want to be alone.`` You add, sheepish of your request, is it too much to ask? You have friends who you consider as family, but King is... Different.

King also does not want to be the sole survivor of his race, he has carried that burden for long enough and now that he had a taste of his people, he wishes to not go back.

``You won't be.`` It's the only promise he'll keep, for your sake and his.

For this, he will have to leave the prison.

``Stay alive for me.`` You beg and he complies.

It all starts with your wing enveloping his form, the soft heat from your contact, and the gentle touch of your fingers over his cheek.

( See You Later )

It ends with a promise and an escape into the night.

With you in the company of your friends on the Thousand Sunny.

And with him on top of a waterfall, watching with curious and intrigued eyes as he holds the leftover newspaper, the ship descends down the mountain and leaps into the ocean next to the koi fish.

He finds your smile now meters away, he gazes with a newfound meaning to his life.

[fushipurro]

In the Shadows of Love

Chapter 4 - Debut

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☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, depression, insecure/intrusive thoughts, angst, mentions of alcohol

☆ Word Count: 7.3k

The day you’ve been dreading has come at last.

The week leading up to now has been miserable to say the least, with one thing happening after another. Not only that, but your sleep has been suffering as well. A few times you struggled to keep your eyes open, and then other moments you powered through the day only to stare wide-eyed at the ceiling begging for sleep to come.

You can only hope the few hours of sleep you did manage to get will be enough for the day to come, and that the bags under your eyes aren’t too noticeable. It’s one thing to be a regular model, but another to handle the business side of it as well. But after today, you’ll have the respite your body craves.

When morning arrives, you take a nice long everything shower to prepare yourself for the day ahead. The rest of your looks are to be handled by professionals on site – makeup included. Hence why all you need to do is come dressed in the epitome of casualwear. You’ll be changing into a dozen outfits throughout the shoot, so no sense in wearing the fanciest your closet as to offer.

A message appears on your phone from the taxi service waiting on you outside. With your purse in hand, you kiss Tsumiki goodbye, and make your way out the building. It’s odd walking around at this time of day, where normally you’re sound asleep while others move to and fro with their lives.

You get to your ride without issue – aka, no neighborly conversations – and settle into the backseat of the car. From there, you keep your eyes to the world around you, silently screaming the longer it takes to get to your destination. At this point you just want to get it over and done with to get back to the sanctity of your home for some much-needed relaxation.

You pity the driver for having to put up with the incessant bouncing of your legs and the tapping of your fingers, but until the day is over, you won’t know peace.

It all feels so much more real once the site of the shoot comes into view. It’s a luscious garden park, packed to the brim with various scenery. You’re able to see the crew hard at work in setting up the area, and even more as the car comes to a stop for you to make your entrance, truly setting the day in motion.

For a while, you weren’t sure who you were even going to be working with today. A part of you hoped it might be Mei Mei, or one of the other female models to help you feel more at ease. Girls stick together, being the motto you cling to, hoping the other party would feel the same about you. You’re told however that you’ll be modeling with none other than the Satoru Gojo.

A legend in this field, a star above them all, like Polaris of the northern skies.

He’s a man with perfectly white hair – which seems like a recurring theme when you look at Mei Mei or her younger brother from the same company – and eyes that put the brilliance of sapphires to shame. The rest is all in his genes and the physique he’s sculpted over years of hard work and discipline.

You’ve been a long-time follower of his on social media, amazed by how effortless he makes modeling appear. His high energy, charismatic personality he shows off online is another appeal. A social butterfly, an extroverted type you sometimes wish you could be like.

By all means, that should make you feel better about working with him today, but you’d argue it makes it that much worse.

Does meeting your heroes ever go well for anyone?

Is it worth potentially ruining the image you’ve cultivated in your head from their online presence versus the actual knowledge you get from meeting them in public?

At the end of the day, who knows? You’re about to find out one way or another, so let’s hope he’s one of the good ones.

They chose a beautiful venue for the magazine, as the park is heavily adorned in trees showcasing the vibrant warm colors autumn has to offer. The main shooting area is set around a large fountain where you can make out all the crisp leaves floating like petals in the spring. Close to the park is a spot in town filled with more historic buildings, works of architectural genius you admire like it’s a game of The Sims. It makes the perfect location for the looks you’ll be showing off.

Your eyes eventually land on none other than your boss/agent/manager – whatever you want to call him, Kento Nanami.

He’s been there for you since day one, acting in whatever role he needs to be for you to succeed in the business. At his side are a few other men and women, nearly all familiar faces from the meetings you’ve had or profile pictures, courtesy of their email accounts.

You approach the group with your hands folded neatly in front of you, trying to discretely rub away the clammy texture of your palms. Handshakes are inevitable, so you might as well be prepared now.

The blond calls out your name as you step closer, “Glad you could make it, we’re almost ready to begin.” His face remains calm, appearing professional as ever, but there’s a hint of a smile surfacing at the edges of his lips.

One of the men in the group stretches his hand out for what you’ve been expecting, and you cautiously oblige. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person,” he states with your name punctuating his words. “I’m Masamichi Yaga, Satoru’s manager. We’re looking forward to working with you today.”

You have to say, while he seemed overly serious and admittedly scary online, and even now in person with his rigid stature, it’s different up close. Seeing him here, shows you that – while serious, yes, there’s a friendly undertone to the man. A panda, one might compare him to. Still classified as a bear with the claws to show for it, but one you could hug and come out unscathed.

You manage to get your words across through shaky breaths, a semblance of your composure, “Thank you, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Satoru hasn’t arrived yet, but you should go and get started with the makeup artist,” Kento informs you. There’s a disgruntled tone in his voice at the mention of the model, and it reminds you of how he sounded during that meeting you were late for at the start of this all.

It’s not often you hear your boss annoyed with someone; another reason you feel lucky to work under him. He’s always fair to you and others, and never the type to berate his fellow employees. Overtime is few and far, one that he has little tolerance for.

“Right away, Mr. Nanami.” You bow to the group, taking your leave with an anxious strut. Once you’re far enough way, you let out the breath you’ve been holding, regaining yourself with a quick calming exercise.

Getting your hair and everything done happens to be one of your favorite parts of modeling. Your biggest task is merely to sit in a chair in silence, letting the artists work you from a blank canvas to a completed piece.

What could be better for someone socially inept?

This wasn’t the usual artist that does your work, so either they’re with the partner agency or some other sponsor judging by the matching brands in their setup. You’re tense as they work, eyes closed and all, with a sense of dread bubbling in your gut.

A pat on your shoulder startles you after some time, jolting you in your seat much to the artist’s dismay. “Hey there! You must be Nanamin’s protégé,” he chirps while bright blue eyes stare eagerly into yours, piercing what feels like straight to your soul.

“Protégé?” you question with a meek sounding tone.

He doesn’t satiate your curiosity on the matter, instead opting to introduce himself, “I’m Satoru, it’s nice to meet you.” The man smiles, taking a seat in the chair next to yours confidently.

“Likewise, looking forward to working with you,” you respond, your eyes unmoving from his direction.

His makeup artist comes over and begins their work, though there’s not much of anything that needs to be done, given how naturally blessed he is in the looks department. There’s not a single speck or blemish that tarnishes his skin, so the most he gets are a few highlights here and there and something to add a bit of a sparkle around his celestial bodies for eyes.

It wouldn’t surprise you if each had their own name depending on his level of vanity. Perhaps Sirius and Regulus would be most suited for him, in your opinion.

Then again, you can also name about four other blue-burning stars off the top of your head. But, since only two lie in front of you, you’ll just have to go with the ones that outshine the rest.

It haunts you that one of your first thoughts meeting him is one built on envy – annoyed that you feel the need to compare your appearance to him. There are a dozen reasons you chose to become a model, none of which involved the crippling self-loathing that comes when it starts to feel like a competition.

May the prettiest one win, some might say.

You wonder that if in another life, if you were born with all the features you desire and deem attractive, if you would be better off. Able to live life without fear of not being enough, never having to second guess yourself in the mirror you so wish to send your fist through on a daily basis.

Would you be happy then?

Would you finally be loved?

Suddenly, your vision meets cyan once more. Shit, how long have you been staring?

“You ever been on a magazine cover before?” he asks, oblivious to the turmoil you face in your head.

Of course not. “No, I haven’t. This is my first time.”

He makes a noncommittal hum in response, and you feel his gaze turning intrusive by the second. Not in a creepy way – no, more like he’s reading you, thinking hard about something unknown to you. “That’s surprising for a protégé of Nanamin… What do you normally do then?”

You aren’t sure whether to question his continuous use of that nickname for your boss or why he believes you to be some apprentice to him, but for now you choose to ignore it, answering, “Commercial modeling, but I do more marketing than anything, really.” Your tone makes it appear as though it’s unimpressive, and sometimes you do feel that way. “More ‘behind the scenes’ work.” You add, shrugging nonchalantly after.

“Wait till this magazine drops, you’ll be getting this many new calls,” he drawls with a show of his hands to emphasize his point.

Your eyes drift away with a subtle roll to them. Yeah, we’ll see about that.

Of the many reasons you became a model, fame and fortune were never the goal either. Sure, being popular enough to maintain a stable influx of opportunities is favorable, but you don’t desire runway status. Cheers to the ones that do want it, but that isn’t you.

Satoru doesn’t push more conversation after. In fact, about a minute later he’s up and out of the chair, all finished with the minimal detailing necessary to make his features pop.

Your artist continues their work for a while after, with a hair stylist now with you as well, and only then were you permitted to finally go and get changed in one of the areas provided for the models.

Of everything today has had to offer so far, the scariest bit has to be the clothing rack, by far. As expected of a high fashion company, what lies on the hangers are nothing short of expensive. One piece of fabric alone costs about as much as a few months’ worth of rent, if that.

You were fitted into the first of several outfits to come, terrified the whole way through if something were to potentially rip and have to come out of your own pocket as punishment. While that’s never happened, there’s a first time for everything. Please don’t be today.

On the way out of the room, you make it your forefront thought to avoid the mirror calling out to you like a siren lulling you to your demise. All it would take is one look to have you ensnared, or rather petrified.Turned to stone by your gaze alone, picking apart every little detail to ruin whatever façade you try and hold for the cameras that await.

Satoru is already at the fountain when you arrive, waving as you fall into his orbital pull. His signature sunglasses do little to hide the glimmer of light behind them, but the smile plastered across his face burns equally bright to compensate anyways.

“Don’t you look nice?” he muses, letting his shades fall further down the bridge of his nose while his head angles down. “That outfit suits you quite a bit.”

Under normal circumstances, a blush might try to form along your face. Maybe if it was Toji –but then we’d be getting off track. The main feeling that plagues you in this moment is that of being out of place; a rock amidst a pile of a perfectly cut diamonds.

Pluto, blending in amongst the other eight planets, yet still shunned if we’re keeping to celestial themes.

At best, you might compare to an opalite crystal. Pretty – yes, but ultimately glass at the end of the day. Your hues can be manipulated, carefully crafted to ascertain a certain degree of beauty. But all it takes is one wrong move to scratch or shatter you and then all that effort was for naught.

A pile of shards no more worthy than dust.

“Nanamin!” The man in front of you bellows out with joy, snapping you from your solemn reverie. He throws his arm over the blond’s shoulders in a casual manner, eliciting a groan from the latter. “It’s been too long! Why don’t you come around more often?”

“It’s been one week, Gojo.” His response is monotone, and his arms are kept folded in front of his chest as he tries to maintain an air of indifference.

“Aww, come on, don’t be like that.” Satoru visibly frowns, puffing out his cheeks.

Choosing to ignore more of his bantering, Kento’s attention turns to you while simultaneously addressing the other, “If you’re both ready, we can get started.”

The moment of truth.

You give him a thumbs up and a forced smile better described as a fine line. Kento shrugs himself off Satoru, stepping close enough to place a hand over your shoulder with a reassuring grip. “Try to relax, and do your best,” he nearly whispers with a fatherly tone melding within his words, “You’re more than ready for this.”

And with that, the photoshoot officially begins.

With a few calming breaths later and those words of assurance playing back in your head, your façade is up and at the ready the moment the cameras start flashing.

Pose after pose, you work in tangent with Satoru while the crew fires off their instructions for the perfect photos. His playfulness is still apparent ─ albeit reigned in. It’s now more in a way that comes across as him wanting to get a reaction out of you. Like he knows you have a proverbial mask on, playing it off as stoicism. Maybe those eyes see more than you realize.

Of course he’s not only good looking, but an exceptional model to match. He doesn’t need to try so hard to give the people what they want. Compliments are showered upon him, yet narcissism doesn’t appear to be a high point in his personality when it all-too-easily could.

Rather, he seems more uncaring to the simple words of praise. Finding more joy in doing whatever feels best in the moment with unrivaled confidence.

You don’t mean to sound bitter and cold. Jealousy just so happens to be an emotion so deeply rooted that if you try to pry it away, it would be no different than grasping a bed of thorns with the palms of your hands. A weed that you can never fully eradicate.

All you want is to feel happy ─ pretty, not so much wanted as a desire to be enough.

It’s easy to be affected by the words of others. For every bit of kindhearted justification you hear, it’s one step towards helping you be able to tell yourself the same things. To get to a point where you can finally feel satisfied with yourself. To never have to ask if you’re even worthy of being alive when you feel so lacking.

That’s why when the cameras come on, you envision exactly what it is you so desperately wish to be. A picture speaks a thousand words. If so, then you hope the ones from today tell the story you dream about in your head each night as you drift away to sleep.

Modeling for you was always about finding that confidence in yourself. To see yourself in the eyes of others, proving that by having this title in life, you can make it a reality that perhaps yes, you are pretty.

You can be anything and everything you want to be.

The action carries on throughout the day with intermittent breaks in between outfit changes and other touchups to your hair and makeup. You have your moments of conversation with the marketing team and crew, sometimes making more effort to discuss what needs to be done over actually utilizing the short bit of time to rest and recoup.

Contrary to what might be popular belief, as a model ─ you aren’t there to stand and look pretty for the cameras. You’re not there to stand for a total of five minutes and then go home rich. It’s dedication and hard work to present the perfect image of yourself for the rest of the world to see.

You may be there waging one-sided wars in your head the entire time, but you still put your all into what you do. Perfection is a journey with an impossible destination, but nevertheless, it’s still the path you’ll traverse.

At the end of the day when the skies morph into a lovely collage of orange and pink hues and the final few photos are taken, you return to the dressing room to shed the covers of imitated beauty. Before that happens, you make the mistake of letting the mirror pull you in, too exhausted to otherwise fight the Damocles sword that hangs right there waiting.

The reflection in the glass is indeed you, but at the same time it’s not. A stranger in your own skin. More likely what the cameras outside were capturing away. The performance you gave that stemmed from a number of fantasies for all the “what if?” life scenarios.

She’s beautiful, you think, admiring the glow of her skin from the sheen of sweat.

Like lipstick on a pig, another half of you cackles, burning holes in all your self-deemed imperfections.

The makeup’s not bad like you originally thought it might be, but it’s also not your usual preference, and greatly overdone. Almost like an attempt to paint you anew. A coverup to an already stained canvas.

Nothing you do is ever enough to vanquish the perpetual tempest that encircles your mind, trapping you beneath torrential thoughts of insecurities. Telling yourself in the mirror you’re pretty doesn’t do anything either, not when you can’t bring yourself to believe it. To you, that’s just one big lie and you can’t stand liars.

It’s even worse when the clothes come off and it’s now just you in your natural form. A cruel reminder to the lengths you have to go to feel redeemable. Even if you told yourself earlier that luxury isn’t you, it sure does a good job at making you feel like someone you’re not. Sometimes that’s a refreshing change.

You eventually finish changing back into the clothes you arrived in, exiting the room with your phone in hand. Your sanctuary awaits, and you’re more than ready to get back to the only place you find solace in. You’re quickly reminded that fate is a fickle thing, always weaving you in a web of red string when you hear the calling of your name. The sound draws your attention upwards to the ever-cheerful man skipping your way.

“Yo!” Satoru waves to you gleefully. “What do you think about going out to celebrate our first gig together over some drinks?” he inquires with expectant eyes that border on looks a puppy might give.

Confusion bubbles up, mixing with your avoidant nature to make a cocktail poisonous only to you if you allow it. Why would someone like him want to go out with someone like you?

“That’s okay, I’m sure you must be tired after today,” is what you respond with. Not a total lie, but it gives you a way out even if it means drinking from the tainted cup of emotions.

“Nonsense, I could keep going for hours!” he refutes with never faltering amusement. “Think about it!” he further begs, with the front of his hands pressed together. “I invited some others too, so it’ll be a whole group of fun!”

Why did I even agree to this…

You’ve been following slightly behind Satoru for several blocks on aching feet from a day of standing in heels. Trying to keep up with his long-legged strides proves difficult, but not impossible. The sunset skies have dimmed, now replaced by the neon lights of the downtown area. It has its beauty, but it can’t compare to the lights of the natural sky.

He stops abruptly in front of a brick building, almost causing you to crash into him. “We’re here!” he cheers, all while you’re immediately taken aback by the sign hanging above the doorway: Star Plasma.

Toji’s workplace.

Your neighbor’s been on your mind sporadically throughout the day. Between Kento’s words and that of Toji’s from the week prior, they’ve helped to keep you afloat in a river of self-loathing.

Inside the club, you’re met with various velvet-lined booths in every direction and a crowd of people filling the space. At the center lies a large, oval-shaped bar too swarmed with patrons to make out if Toji is among the ones working this very night.

The atmosphere and overall design of the place bear a resemblance to that of a strip club, although it lacks the trademark poles on stages deemed for entertainment. That section is occupied with instruments currently not in use. There are some other rooms in the back, but their designated uses remain unknown at this time.

“Over here!” Satoru calls out your name, reminding you of why you’re here to begin with.

He leads the way back to a booth where two others sit in waiting. One is man heavily adorned in ink from what you can make out. His long, silky black hair is half tied up in a bun that reveals the large piercings settled in his ears. The other is a woman with mid-length brown hair and familiar shades of purple beneath her eyes, evident of a lack of sleep you know all too well. She nestles a glass in her hand, its contents another mystery to you.

The two of them you recognize from posts on Satoru’s instagram, but anything more eludes you as their profiles are set to private.

Satoru scoots in next to the man and their lips greet each other. “Who’s your new friend?” The black-haired one questions, looking you over with a curious eye. You aren’t sure how to act, and thus are awkwardly standing at the edge of the booth.

“The model I was working with today,” Satoru introduces with a telling of your name. His hands raise to gesture to those at his side. “This is Suguru, my boyfriend, and our third wheel, Shoko!”

“Your third wheel wants another drink, Satoru,” she scoffs, flashing an empty glass in front of his face. “These are going on your tab for being late, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Satoru waves her off, placing his focus back on you. “What do you want to drink?”

“Oh, uh–“ Now you look even more awkward than before. “I’ve never had alcohol so I’m not sure…” Your voice lowers gradually by the end of your sentence.

The three look to you with equal levels of shock. “Leave it to me then!” He beams, pressing a fist to his chest. He slips out of the booth making his way to the bar.

You watch him leave before feeling a hand tugging at your wrist. “Come on, sit down!” Shoko beckons, urging you to sit at her side. You take her up on it, fidgeting with your hands underneath the table to ease the nerves. It’s been years at least since you last had a sit-down like this outside of work. How are you supposed to act?

“It’s nice to meet you,” Suguru breaks the ice with Shoko following in turn with the same greeting.

Your body involuntarily tenses up as you become aware to how their eyes are examining you. “Y-yeah, nice to meet you as well.”

“Satoru doesn’t typically invite coworkers out, have you two known each other for long?” the man interrogates, though his demeanor is rather friendly. If anything, there’s more of a protective hint to his words.

While shaking your head, you reply, “No, we just met earlier today.”

“Word of advice ─ run,” Shoko snickers, earning a disapproved glare from Suguru. “I’m kidding,” she follows up, drawing out her words playfully. “But seriously, don’t be afraid to tell him ‘no’ to anything you’re not comfortable with. He can be a lot to someone not used to him, but he means well.”

Now this is a perfect example of one of those girls you know you can rely on to have your back. You don’t have any issues with Satoru, but it still makes you happy to feel like someone’s looking out for you.

It wasn’t long after that Satoru returns, skillfully balancing several drinks in hand. Sake for Suguru, whiskey for Shoko, a very colorful ─ no doubt fruit flavored cocktail for himself given the smell, and lastly, a margarita for you. The group demands a small toast “To friendship!” Satoru remarks before your glasses all meet in the middle.

One by one, they each take sips from their respective cups while you’re more occupied with swirling the thin straw around your drink. The smell is…unique, more pungent than anything. If you close your eyes, it almost smells like lemonade which you can enjoy, until that first sip hits your tongue.

Then it’s just harsh and bitter instead of sour or sweet.

The three watch in earnest at your first step into the world of alcohol, remembering their own experiences while your face scrunches up in disgust. Shoko pats your back soothingly to help you through the coughing fit as it took everything in you to not gag and embarrass yourself.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the taste the more you drink,” Satoru muses. But honestly, how does anyone like this stuff, let alone to come back for more? “I invited Nanamin too, but he turned me down by saying he’s busy like always,” he adds with an obvious pouty face.

Shoko sighs, “Did you forget how much of a workaholic he is?”

“Speak for yourself, but you still came!” he retorts with a simpering smile.

She then points an accusative finger at him. “I’m not turning down alcohol, especially when you’re footing the bill.”

“Oh, is that right?” he sarcastically replies, “Don’t act like you don’t love us, Sho.”

“Even if Heaven and Earth turned upside down–“

“Now, now,” Suguru intervenes like that of a scolding mother. “Let’s not frighten off our new friend here.”

The two mumble apologies even though you can’t help the joy that bubbles up. Being a third or fourth wheel can have its issues at times ─ namely if you’re being excluded from the group ─ but sitting back and watching them banter away is plenty enjoyable for you.

One comment they made however caught your attention. “You guys know Mr. Nanami?”

“Sure do!” Satoru chirps, more than happy you asked. “The four of us went to school together and after graduation, Nanamin and I ended up in the modeling business. It wasn’t until a few years ago he decided to take up a managing role. Not sure why, he was doing just fine.” He shrugs.

Disbelief hits you like a high-tide wave. “He was a model?”

“You didn’t know?” Your question apparently astonishes him. He pulls his phone out, swiping through it a few times before passing it to you from across the table. “I’m surprised you didn’t know, what with you being his protégé and all.”

“I don’t know about protégé, but…” your voice trails off as you examine the pictures. Sure enough, these photos are indeed your boss, varying from tourism magazines to modeling business suits from highly reputable designers.

The notion that he was a model isn’t farfetched; it’s a thought that’s crossed your mind a dozen times given his handsome looks. Having the confirmation now with physical proof to back it up has your mouth held agape at the newfound information.

“He never mentioned any of this to me before,” you murmur.

“I’m not shocked,” Suguru chimes in. “Kento’s always been more reserved when it comes to himself.”

“Are you two in the industry as well?” You direct your question to Suguru and Shoko who look back with raised eyebrows that border on amusement.

Satoru decides to be the one to answer in place, “Nope! Suguru here is a tattoo artist, and Shoko’s a doctor.”

Suddenly, the plethora of tattoos make a whole lot more sense. That, and Shoko’s eyebags. Your eyes wander to the art you can see around the revealed sections of the upper half of his body. They range from subtle beauty to grotesque in nature, the majority being creatures straight out of folklore but more imaginative ─ the product of nightmares, more or less.

The trail of ink stops just short of his jawline, but that alone leads into how he styles himself with piercings. There are the obvious black pearls on the lobes, but he also has one right through his eyebrow. As he speaks, there’s even a glint of one on his tongue and who knows where else.

“Like what you see?” Suguru purrs and your eyes snap up to meet his golden-brown gaze. He tries to show off more from his arms, as much as his current clothes will allow, and your favorite might have to be the rainbow dragon stretching from his neck to somewhere beneath his shirt.

You retreat to your drink, only for the bitter taste to remind you of its existence. “Y-yeah, they look really nice,” you tell him with the hint of a blush.

Shoko takes to lightly smacking his shoulder, falling into the effects alcohol has to offer. “Looks like you finally found a fan of your twisted style, Suguru.”

“Hey, what about me?” Satoru frowns, wanting some of his own attention from you. “What did you think about today? Those clothes were great, huh? I might have to buy some for later.”

Your eyes can’t help but fall to your lap as the memory resurfaces of your earlier turmoil. You’ll admit that it went better than expected, and you’re glad it’s over with now, but as always, you’re left to deal with the aftermath of the storm.

“You looked amazing!” You exclaim, and you’re not at all lying. “Perfect for the magazine.” Him, not you.

“Right? I loved that outfit you had on–“

Satoru continues to talk but there’s a buzz that forms in your ears, separate from the music of the club that keeps you from understanding anything other than your own mind. It feels as though your stomach is being twisted into knots and the earlier tension hits you in full once again.

You still don’t understand why they wanted you so bad for this, and to pair you up with such a highly regarded model.

Your follower count is nothing close to his; you’re practically a nobody. It could have been done out of pity, those two are friends after all. Maybe it could’ve been a way to shame you, to prove to you that–

“Helloooo?”

“Huh? Sorry?”

“There you are, almost thought the alcohol finally started to get to you.” Satoru smirks, leaning back in his seat. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go use the restroom.” You force a smile as you stand, picking a random direction to walk in. “I’ll be right back!”

Your back’s turned before they even have a chance to respond. It took a bit of searching, but eventually you found the bathroom, slipping your way inside. You can’t help but idle in front of the mirror, staring at yourself in the reflection. There are some stray hairs to tame and running makeup to fix, but all in all, you aren’t sure what else you have left to feel.

It's likely all the lack of sleep is finally catching up on you. Being overly exhausted never does any favors as the tired mind can be quite cruel, hence you teetering on the edge of breaking down in tears.

At least when you return home to Tsumiki you’ll feel better. Your sweet little girl that helps give you a reason to keep going despite it all. The earnings from this photoshoot will do nicely in affording some fresh new toys to pamper her with, and you find yourself growing impatient to see her.

You leave the bathroom with a more freshened mind and a goal in sight, but you’re stopped short of your return to the booth when your name is called in a familiar baritone tune. Its source ─ your one and only neighbor, perched over the counter, shining away at some crystal.

“Hi Toji,” you greet, coming up to the empty barstool in front of him. “I didn’t know you were working tonight.”

You also didn’t expect to see how polished he looks while on the job. Here, you find him in black dress pants, a white button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, some silver hardware, and half his bangs smoothed back. If it weren’t for him being behind the counter all dolled, you’d peg him as a bouncer the way his muscles are straining.

“Should’ve told me you wanted to come by, I’d have offered a ride.”

“Oh, I’m actually with a group right now.” You look towards your booth where Satoru has his hands in the air, wildly gesturing for whatever they’re conversing about.

Toji follows your eyes with recognition. “Ah, that kid,” he teases, acting as if he’s not right there in age with all of you. “Had me make that unicorn jungle juice shit for him. How he’s not overdosing on sugar is beyond me.” He rolls his eyes before meeting yours once again.

His quick-witted tongue leaves you giggling, proving to be just what you needed to relax. “Yeah, he invited me here after we finished that photoshoot I mentioned before, and I couldn’t exactly say no, so…here I am.” You laugh again, but it’s a tad bit dry, given your state of exhaustion.

Looking at him now after the day you’ve had, you find it far too easy to get lost in his green gaze. While there’s no good star you could compare them to, the Earth around you is all you need. From luscious forests to precious metals, jades and emeralds might be the best metaphors. Malachite on the other hand offers a uniqueness suited for this one-of-a-kind man.

They scan you intently, bordering on the same look a Nikon camera offers. A shutter comes in the form of blinks, capturing you to store away in his memory for as long as he can.

“That was today, huh?” He pauses, green ripples softening as pools of black spread outwards. “How’d it go?”

Words are lost on you as you try and piece together what to tell him. A small sliver of you wants to be honest when he’s proven to be a good listener, but you also think he gets enough of that on the job.

“It was…good? Busy, mostly,” you reply, keeping it short and sweet. You can’t imagine how many drunkards come spilling their guts, expecting him to act as their therapist. You don’t want to bring any unnecessary stress to him when he’s trying to pay the bills like anyone else.

“Yeah?” Another patron interrupts before he can continue, forcing Toji to make his order, but not without some cursing spilling from under his breath. When he returns to you, he loses that tension, leaning his forearms against the counter. “You know, I almost didn’t recognize you at first when you were walkin’ by.”

“Because of all the makeup, I guess?” you huff, “Yeah, it’s bad–“

“It’s good,” he cuts you off mid-sentence and you feel your breath hitch. “Different than your usual, but not bad. Not like you need all that to begin with,” he continues without so much as missing a beat, leading you suck your lips inwards in a coy manner.

Toji looks satisfied as he flashes you a pearly white canine beneath his crooked grin. “I take it you’re celebrating then, what did that brat get for you?”

You chuckle at his feigned hostility towards Satoru, knowing full well he’s only kidding around. “I think he said it’s a margarita. I’m not sure though, it’s my first-time drinking.”

His reaction is a lot less surprised than the other three. “How do you like it?”

You snort, “Not great, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how anyone can stomach it.”

“Tell me about it,” he scoffs, raising a hand to gesture in disbelief before dropping it back to the counter with a small thud. “Can’t stand that shit.”

“Huh?” You stare at him, taken aback.

He raises an eyebrow at you in response. “What?”

“Nothing,” you breathe. “Just wondering why you’re a bartender if you hate alcohol that much.”

“Gotta pay the bills somehow, doll.” He winks, the smirk of his returning for a hot second. “If you want, I can make you somethin’ that’s easier to swallow?”

You’re hesitant, but ultimately willing to trust the man and give it a go. “Sure, I’d like that.”

Toji now has a goal in mind to impress you, making this worth your while so that maybe you’ll come back another night.

He reaches under the bar, pulling out an assortment of supplies, gauging what he knows of you to make the perfect drink. You can’t help but be mesmerized by how he mixes everything, verging on being a showoff about it too, but overall similar to how a hibachi grill might perform for patrons.

The difference is, this one is all for you, made special by him.

He empties the contents into a tall, narrow glass, topping it off with a tiny umbrella of your favorite color and a few extra slices of your favorite fruit along the rim. “Enjoy, sweetheart.” He winks again, sliding the liquid potion your way with deft fingers. His confidence is apparent, believing in his skills.

The suddenness of hearing “sweetheart” from the man no doubt has your face feeling warm, complimented by the color of the drink. There’s still some hesitation as you lift it to your mouth, but after one taste, you admit that it’s not so bad ─ better even, compared to the previous concoction. Any tinge of alcohol your palate detects is washed away thanks to the fruity aftertaste and whatever else he threw in.

“So?” he drawls, eager to hear what he already knows is sweet victory.

“It’s…good, I like it, actually,” you tell him with a smile, enjoying another sip after. “What do I owe you for it?”

“For you?” He leans closer, his grin widening. “On the house. Don’t worry about cost tonight.”

“Toji, you cannot keep doing this for me!” you argue, attempting to pull out your wallet when his hand stops you right in your tracks.

“Too bad,” his voice drops to a smooth, gravely tone. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing. “It’s my treat for your celebration,” he chuckles.

You pout. “You’re going to have to let me treat you sometime, you know.” At this rate, you’re going to have to start keeping a list for everything you wish to pay him back for since he won’t ever let you win.

As good of a feeling as it is to be pampered like this, you also don’t want to keep burdening him. It doesn’t matter if he’s the one always offering his kindness, you don’t want him to feel like he has to ─ that you’re not capable of doing this for yourself. 

“Your presence is enough of a treat,” he reassures, “The kid would agree with me.”

In a way, that sounds like Toji actually enjoys spending time with you. In reality, that is exactly what he said, but the thought of someone like him and even his son wantingsomeone like you around is nearly impossible to fathom. Unless of course this is the alcohol already taking affect on your processing and hearing…

Your presence is a treat.

You are wanted.

…That’s what he said.

“Toji! Come here for a sec!” a younger employee at the other end of the bar calls out, earning a grunt from the one in front of you.

“Shit, guess fun time’s over,” he huffs. “If you need anythin’ else, you know where to find me, pretty girl.”

“Thanks, Toji.” You grin appreciatively. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Oh, hey,” he calls out your name as step off from your seat. “Tell me when you’re leavin’, okay? I’ll drive you home.”

You nod in return as you take your leave back to the booth. The trio keeps their eyes on you like ravenous hyenas as you settle back in.

“Soooo,” Satoru drawls with a cheshire grin growing wider by the second. “You wanna tell us what that was about?”

“What?” you question, oblivious to what he means.

“You and the bartender?” he snickers, “The two of you were lookin’ pretty friendly together.”

Shoko scoots closer, noticeably more relaxed and swaying. Her arm wraps around your shoulder, failing an attempt with whispering in your ear, “If you see an opportunity, take it! I can see the heart eyes from here.” Her eyebrows wiggle with a knowing look.

“I-It’s not like that!” you stammer. But is it really? Oh, who are you kidding. It’s becoming harder and harder to deny that you aren’t feeling something for your neighbor. “We live next-door to each other is all,” you mumble, feeling coy.

“Ooh, neighbors to lovers?” Satoru’s gaze inadvertently meets Toji’s from afar before drifting back to yours all full of smug. “Can’t blame you, he is a looker.”

“Satoru.” His teasing laugh turns into a fake yelp when the back of Suguru’s hand meets his chest to reprimand him.

“What, am I wrong? He’s not as good looking as you though, Sugu,” he purrs, lowering his head to the man, bringing a kiss to his cheeks.

“That’s better,” Suguru remarks, casually sipping on his sake.

“Alright, cool it, lover boys,” Shoko sighs, silencing them. She leans her head in your direction, trying to get a better look at the face you’re trying oh so hard to hide. She brushes a few hairs hiding your eyes and you see her own that hold the look of a hungry predator, itching to pounce and sink her teeth into something juicy. In this case ─ your love life. “Tell us everything.” She enunciates each syllable, growing impatient by the second.

“Well…”

☆ Notes: damn the updated version of this is way more fucking depressing LOL I couldn’t help myself but hey, I have PLANS

I guess now would be a good time for me to point out ages so reader would be really early 20s, sashisho + kento and all them mid 20s and then toji just a smidge older, but not too late in the 20s. I just don’t feel like putting established ages on anyone besides the kids since that matters for whatever grade they’re in (ignoring how 6 year old/1st grader megumi is already super independent and talkative)

Originally, I gave Suguru a scar tattoo on his forehead for obvious reasons (not that he is or ever was kenjaku in the OG), but in the restructured version I decided to retcon that bit. I like the idea I see people do instead with kenjaku as an evil twin, but idk if I’ll make that a plot point at this time.

as far as his other tattoos go, i like to imagine it's all styled after the cursed spirits he absorbs in an ukiyo-e style!

[maleindistress]

Shadow Code

In the neon-lit streets of a futuristic metropolis, Kyle Mercer, a young, exceptionally fit hacker with a chiseled physique, lived a life shrouded in mystery. By day, he was a student in computer science. By night, he delved into the darker corners of the web, uncovering secrets that powerful entities would kill to protect.

Kyle's apartment, a high-rise with panoramic view, is paid with the money he made with stock actions and some luck. It was late in the evening when he decided to take a shower. He emerged, muscles rippling and skin glistening with droplets of water. The steam from the shower outlined his athletic build, as he wrapped a towel around his waist, his toned abs and broad shoulders still on display. He decide to open his computer have a look at the trojan horse he planted, see if they were successful.

Unbeknownst to Kyle, a masked figure had silently infiltrated his apartment. This intruder, a skilled assassin, had been tracking Kyle, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. As Kyle is focused on his screen, the masked man creep behind him slowly.

Kyle is completely unaware of what’s to come.

There is a crack sound from the floor and Kyle look back to see what it was but it’s already too late for him

Despite his strength and agility, Kyle was caught completely off guard. The ambush was swift and brutal. As the silk tie tightened around his neck, Kyle fought back valiantly. His well-defined biceps bulged under the strain, veins popping as he strained to break free. He attempted to grip the towel, but his wet hands slipped frustratingly off the fabric.

The bathroom floor, still slick from his shower, became his unexpected enemy. Every time Kyle tried to plant his feet firmly to leverage himself against the attacker, his feet slid out from under him. Desperation set in as he scrabbled for purchase on the slippery tiles, but it was futile. His every attempt to stand and overpower his assailant was thwarted by the treacherous floor.

As the struggle continued, Kyle's movements began to lose their initial power. His once forceful resistance turned into weaker, almost caressing motions as his strength ebbed away. His breath came in ragged gasps, his face turning red, then purpling as oxygen deprivation took its toll.

The last of his energy spent, Kyle's body started to go limp in the assassin's unyielding embrace. His once powerful limbs, symbols of his athleticism and vitality, now hung uselessly as he succumbed to the deadly chokehold. Finally, his struggles ceased, and he became motionless, a tragic end to a life that once burned so fiercely.

Hours later, the coroner arrived at the scene. The apartment was eerily quiet, with only the faint hum of city life outside. The coroner, a seasoned professional, was taken aback by the sight of Kyle's physique. Even in death, Kyle's athletic build was striking – his well-defined arms, firm chest, and sculpted abs spoke of a life dedicated to physical excellence.

Carefully, the coroner examined Kyle's body, noting the marks left by the tie and his drooling mouth. It was a rare method of killing, one that required strength and skills. They move him gently to find any evidence.

After completing the examination, the coroner gently positioned Kyle on the bed and removed his shoes, for further examination before bringing the body in the ambulance. His resting body resembling a marble sculpture of a fallen warrior.

He is now placed in a body bag gently to be brought for further examination at the morgue.

Kyle's demise sent ripples through the underground world. He was not just a hacker; he was a symbol of defiance against those who abused power. His untimely death was not just the end of a life, but the extinguishing of a beacon that many in the shadows had looked up to.

In the aftermath, whispers began to circulate in the hacker community. Who was behind Kyle's death? Was it a corporate giant he had crossed? A government entity? Or something even more sinister? As the city's neon lights flickered in the night, the quest for truth began, turning Kyle Mercer from a solitary hacker into a legend.

[eruden-writes]

Strictly Pleasure - Part 1 (Jek x Heidi)

orc x human paranormal romance

Summary: An awkward fresh-out-of-a-relationship woman and an orc that owns a sex store enter an adult theater together. She, intent on pushing her own boundaries. He, just looking to give her some sense of safety. Well, that and he wouldn't complain about having a bit of fun himself.

After they inevitably get interrupted, Jek deals with the problem while Heidi flees. Resigned, he believes he'll never see her again.

Thus begins Jek and Heidi's sporadic interactions until, eventually, they find themselves fumbling around each other daily at the very place it started: Strictly Pleasure.

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Masterlist | Next

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The human patron had been standing outside Strictly Pleasure’s theater for fifteen minutes. Jek couldn’t recall their name, didn’t think they ever introduced themselves on those occasions they came with their partner or friends. He watched them from the edge of his glasses, while pretending to read on his phone, as they ventured closer to the theater doors before turning away again. They’d busy themselves with some display or make a circuit around the shop before attempting again.

He only stopped watching the customer when Gnadi, his faun employee and co-worker, leaned over to whisper, “Boss, you should ask them if they want company.”

“Pretty sure they have a partner.” Jek kept his voice low and shook his head, but couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. At twenty-six, Gnadi possessed both a hot-libido and aspirations to be a matchmaker. A dangerous combination for Jek, their senior by twenty years, since they were always trying to hook him up with patrons.

“Well, they’re alone now,” Gnadi pointed out, eyes shifting from the customer to him. Their expression made it clear what they thought. Someone alone in Strictly Pleasure without their partner? A break up. Or a soon-to-be break up. “Besides, you know how often the freshly-broken up do things not in their nature.”

With a noncommittal hum, Jek glanced back over at the awkward patron. They certainly looked out of their element, if he had any insight. And there had never been a time in the past when they came without someone, whether it was a partner or friend. If they were here alone, there was a reason.

Nagged by Gnadi’s intent expression and a soft-hearted curiosity, Jek heaved a sigh and pushed off his stool. He ignored his employee’s whispered well wishes in his wake. If he let the words settle, he would get embarrassed, so he focused on closing the distance between himself and the patron. When he was close enough, he lobbed the ever-professional question, “Do you need help?”

Startled, Heidi’s attention snapped up as one of Strictly Pleasure’s employees approached her. Of course, it was the orc. It couldn’t be the androgynous faun, but the orc - with their badge reading ‘Jek’ and ‘he/they’ beneath - that her ex commonly teased her for staring at.

In Heidi’s defense, Jek had an elaborate - involving scales, flowers, and miscellaneous imagery - colorful tattoo sleeve on his left arm, always covered up to some degree. Getting a new peek of additional details always delighted her curiosity. Plus, recently, he had dyed his hair - a braided fauxhawk pulled into a ponytail - a strawberry blonde, which only brought out their usual red under-eye shadow and the red scale-like design in their tattoo.

Further, it wasn’t as if he was hard to look at. Tall and bulky, as orcs were wont to be, and with a face Heidi would consider sculpted, jawline currently sporting a five o’clock shadow. A scar notched across his nose, but there were no other scars she could see beyond that. Not that she looked too hard, of course,

“I’m fine,” she squeaked, trying to maintain eye contact with Jek’s hazel green gaze.

“Really?” Jek tilted his head until he peered over his half-moon glasses at them. “Because it looks like you’ve been trying to head into the theater for about twenty minutes now.”

Another flash of heat jolted through Heidi, her eyes widening behind her glasses. “You’ve been watching me?”

The way their eyes widened made a small pang of guilt flash through Jek. It couldn’t be helped. After all, they hadn’t approached for help, but now that he was closer, he realized they were dressed differently than usual. Everything else - from their light brown hair threaded with gray hairs and dark brown eyes magnified behind square frames - made faint memories bob to his thoughts.

In the past, they’d worn jeans and a t-shirt with a hoodie whenever they came in. Tonight, the only thing familiar was their hoodie. Under that, they wore a wine red dress, low cut  to show off ample cleavage and high hemmed to show off supple thigh. Vaguely, Jek wondered if they had bought the fishnets in his store, commending how the fabric strung tight around their plush legs.

Jek found his fingertips itching to coast over their legs, feel the ridges of the fishnet under his palm. Honestly, their entirety - from full breasts above rounded tummy down to their wide hips and pillow thighs - made Jek want to sink his fingers into them.

Not quite forgetting himself, he gave a mild affirmative grunt in response to their question.

His wordless reply made Heidi wince. It was his store and he did have to monitor customers, she reminded herself. That still didn’t make her anxiety lessen though. With her shoulders slumping, Heidi sighed and looked away from Jek and toward the theater. “Okay, okay. Yes, I’ve been trying to build up the courage to head in.”

“If you’re nervous, why not come with someone?” He leaned a shoulder on the wall by the theater’s entry point, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans.

The easy posture just highlighted how tall and broad he was compared to Heidi. Even dressed in a simple graphic tee, jeans, and black unbuttoned short-sleeved button-up, there was something about Jek that oozed quiet assurance. Heidi couldn’t say the same for herself, with how often she fidgeted and tugged at her dress. It just felt so flimsy compared to go-to jeans.

“No, I don’t,” she mumbled in return, another flash of mortification gnawing at her insides. It shouldn’t be something to be ashamed of, she knew, but there was an implication in her current actions that made her feel juvenile. With a sigh, she fessed up to the feelings, “It’s a story you’ve heard a lot, I’m sure. Doing something new and exciting because my boyfriend broke up with me and I’m too embarrassed to talk to my friends about this.”

Jek definitely had heard the story before, whether it was a recent break-up with a significant other or a divorce from a now-ex spouse. When he was younger, he entertained plenty of them. Often during business hours and in the back room. Hell, he still did on occasion.

Usually, the newly-adventurous in these cases never returned. If they did, it was usually after they had found a new partner. Sometimes they were awkward around him, other times they were completely fine. As if whatever they’d done hadn’t even happened.

Something coaxed Jek to look over his shoulder. From the counter, Gnadi watched with a grin, stirring ghosts of embarrassment inside Jek. Gods, why was he even humoring his employee?

It wasn’t like he could back down no. Not after finding out what this person was going through and not with Gnadi observing. Fuck him, Gnadi would probably loudly ‘suggest’ Jek accompany the patron if he dared to return to the counter. Turning back to them, seeing their conflicted expression and attention turned back to the theater, Jek sighed. “Do you want me to go in with you?”

Once more, Jek surprised her. Her attention swung back to him, confusion creasing the spot between her eyebrows. Why would he want to come back there with her? Wasn’t he on the clock? “You have the store to look after.”

Jek nodded back toward his co-worker, putting off far more nonchalance than he felt. “Gnadi has it handled.”

Heidi glanced to where he motioned, finding the faun smiling and waving from the counter. She pressed her lips together as a concerns washed over her. “Is that even legal? For you to go back there with me?”

In return, Jek gave a lackadaisical shrug, grunting an ‘I don’t know’ answer.

Worrying at her bottom lip, Heidi glanced from Jek to the theater doors once more. If he could get in trouble, he wouldn’t offer, right? But who would get him in trouble? He owned the store and she wasn’t about to report him for helping her. Besides, having someone with her, someone that could keep her safe if creeps crept up in her, did ease her anxiety.

Trying not to focus on how embarrassing the whole ordeal was, Heidi nodded. “Alright, sure.”

Pushing off the wall, Jek headed toward the faun and the register. “Okay, cool. Before we head back there, you need to pay at the counter.”

Shock brought a strangled sound from Heidi as she half-jogged after him. Shit, of course she’d have to pay. Why didn’t she think of that earlier? Better yet, why didn’t he tell her earlier? Before Heidi could stop herself, she blurted, “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

For the first time since approaching them, a partial grin broke around Jek’s tusks. He inclined his head toward the customer, but didn’t pause in his transit. “It was funny watching you argue with yourself.”

He actually meant cute. It was cute to watch them torment themselves over going in, especially when they’d retreat to a safer distance and theatrically busy themselves with something. Few people enjoyed being the object of mildly sadistic amusement, though. Funny was safer than cute.

Heidi shot him a withering look, though she feared it was a little less potent given the flush on her cheeks. By that point, they had reached the register. Pointing out how rude his actions would be a waste of time.

Once more trying to ignore how warm her face felt and hoping her voice didn’t crack, Heidi turned to the faun. “What’s the cost for the theater?”

“Six bucks.” Gnadi’s grin shifted from amusement to a softer smile as they looked at her. While Heidi rifled through her purse for the money, Gnadi tilted their eyes back to their boss. She missed how Jek tensed under their employee’s gaze. “So, who’s your friend, bossman?”

“Uh.” Oh, right. He hadn’t bothered with formal introductions. After all, he wore a nametag and it wasn’t like most people who came into Strictly Pleasure gave their name and pronouns.

Before Jek could fumble through the question, she crisply cut in while handing the cashier her payment, “Heidi. She/they.”

Once Heidi and Gnadi exchanged cash and receipt, she jammed the paper into her purse and turned away. Determinedly, she headed toward the theater, propelled by embarrassment and the fact she had paid for entry now.

Gnadi waited until she was a few steps away before leaning over the counter and muttering to Jek, “Smooth move, bossman. Not even asking their name before propositioning her.”

“Oh, shut up.” Jek barely refrained from running a hand down his face as he turned to follow Heidi. Whatever feelings had buoyed her to the door must have run out, since she paused to wait for him.

Her nerves flared up around her as Jek pulled the door open, motioning her to go first.

Heidi peered into the darkened room, the sounds inside making curiosity and nervousness battle in her head. One glance up at Jek, who watched her with that annoying slight grin and cocked eyebrow, made up her mind for her. She’d show him to be amused by her inexperience and shyness.

Adjusting her purse on her shoulder, Heidi marched into the dark depths of Strictly Pleasure’s theater as Jek tailed after her.

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If you want more now, read the next part on:

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I also love, love, love comments, tags, and reblogs! Seeing readers’ reactions motivates me.

[seulgishaku]

Jason and Nico both think valentine's day is the dumbest thing in existence. Like why would you not give gifts to your partner anyday? Why would you not make them feel special every day? They just don't get it.

So naturally, they turn it into a competition of who can be the most over the top.

Nico's never really been good at grand gestures but no way in hell is he losing to Grace at anything. He shadow travels to a mortal shop and spares no expense at buying whatever cheesy, generic cards and chocolates he can find. (They have a whole section just for this stuff?)

He figures that's probably not enough to top whatever Jason's been trying to pull off for the past couple days (hes taking this very seriously) but he knows one thing he one ups grace on.

Cooking.

Jason can't cook for shit and he knows that and more importantly Nico knows that and he will be using it to his advantage.

Cut to Jason whose been working on something for days. He wants to win (duh) but he also really wants to make Nico feel special (in spite of the holiday, of course) so he's been building.

Or rather, sculpting, really.

It's a statue. Of an eagle and a crow that are making heart shapes with their wings. Gods he wanted to do so much more but unfortunately, he just didn't have the time.

He wants to have it painted too so another sleepless night he guesses.

He does get it finished though. And the day of the competition approaches.

Nico begins trading in all his gifts that he brought for Jason and Jason just. Freezes. Nico went out and brought all of these professionally made gifts for him. His favorite snacks and things like the brownies from the New Rome bakery that he hasn't had in years.

But when Nico takes him out to the plains near the strawberry fields, and shows him the dinner he made (made, he made it. For Jason.) consisting of some of Jason's favorite foods he knows he's lost.

There's strawberries and watermelon and carbonara and Jason sees fast food burgers that don't quite go with the rest of the meal but Nico knows he loves them despite how unhealthy they are.

Jason almost tears up. He knows Nico loves him but this competition (is it really, Jason thinks Nico's won by a landslide) has really shown that Nico is willing to go all out for him.

It makes his gift feel like an arts and crafts project.

Which is kinda what it is.

He feels embarrassed to have spent days working on it. But he'll be damned if he didn't show it now.

When they're done eating Jason takes Nico back to his cabin (and Nico almost thinks this is going in a different direction) and opens the door to his storage. He tells Nico to close his eyes and all Nico can hear is Jason dragging something across the floor.

When he's told to open his eyes he stares for just a moment. One awkward moment and Jason thinks Nico is silently laughing at him in his head, but then Nico pulls him into a hug.

Nico. Nico di Angelo just initiated a hug with Jason Grace.

They stand like that for a while. Jason gets over his shock and eventually hugs Nico back. (He swears he hears sniffling but he doesn't know whether its coming from him or Nico)

They both want to declare the other the winner. (Nico insists upon it being Jason the whole rest of the night.)

They spend the night together watching cheesy hallmark movies and eating the expensive chocolates Nico bought. Every once in awhile Nico will glance back to the statue of them (in bird form) with a dopey smile on his face and Jason thinks maybe he really did win.

[kemch122]

Group of young, handsome bodybuilder police officers who are visibly dedicated to exercise and regularly use steroids. They are dressed in tight police uniforms that accentuate their athletic figures and massive muscles. Each of them has powerful and defined arms, broad shoulders, and massive chest muscles. Their backs are wide and muscular, making it seem like the uniforms had to accommodate their sheer size. The police officers are standing in a police station equipped with modern facilities and equipment. The walls are made of solid stone, creating an impression of strength and resilience. On one side of the room, there is a large police desk with a monitoring system connected to various screens displaying live camera feeds from different parts of the city. On the other side of the room, police cars are parked in a dedicated garage. The lighting in the room is intense and focused, highlighting the muscles and athletic physique of the police officers. Strong bulbs shine from high ceilings, casting sharp and distinct shadows on their muscles, emphasizing their details and definition. The light also illuminates their eyes, which are full of determination and strength. The police officers have a confident and decisive expression on their faces, reflecting their determination and professionalism. Their muscles are tense yet appear flexible and strong. Overall, the image is full of energy and strength radiating from these young bodybuilder police officers. Their bodies are sculpted and firm due to their rigorous training and steroid use. This impression is enhanced by the police station environment, which conveys a sense of power and authority.

[synthaphone]

What's your process for your sculptures if you don't mind breaking it down? They look really good!

Thank you!!! I'm not sure if my breakdown will be much different from what i show in posts like this, but i can try my best!

Uhhh lets see. there's some variation depending on what i'm sculpting, but in general my process goes like this:

Decide what I want to sculpt, and gather/draw any necessary references

Create a rough armature out of wire and tin foil for the 'base' of the sculpture- this is usually the body, with wire for limbs, necks, and anything that i think needs support. Doing this helps establish how the sculpture will balance! Its easy to forget how much space the clay will take up and make the armature too big, so i try to undershoot the size i want by a little bit.

Put some clay on the base and get it into roughly the shape I want-again, usually a little smaller than the intended final if I know I'm going to want to add details or texture. Since I like to bake my sculptures multiple times during the process to avoid squashing finished parts, its WAY easier to add clay later than it is to subtract baked clay.

Flesh out the load bearing limbs- making sure it can stand is a big priority!

The base for the head comes next- this is often the second heaviest part of the sculpture after the core body, so getting it positioned correctly and making sure it can stand with the head attached is important. I usually do this as a tin foil ball with a small amount of clay around it, and keep it smaller than I intend the final to be so that I have plenty of space to add the facial features. Sometimes baking at this stage bites me in the ass, if I don't predict how far I'm going to want to carve into the clay to etch in mouth details, but I prefer it to the risk of squashing the whole head out of shape once the details are on (its SUPER hard to fix at that stage)

Then I do more details for the head + limbs, trying to work in an order that will make it easiest to sculpt said detail without squashing it/elements getting in the way of other elements. Turning the sculpture to see it from different angles is really helpful for keeping things symmetrical! Lately, my process for mouths has been carving in elements like the line for the mouth, baking it once I have it where I want it, and then building up sculpted muzzle, lip and cheek mass around the guidelines so that they feel more dimensional and less like a drawn on feature.

Whenever I bake the sculpture, I like to sand areas that feel like they could be smoother- I feel like this step has helped a lot with making my sculptures seem more professional, because its very hard to get smooth surfaces with just your fingers. Using isopropyl alcohol on the still wet clay is another way to smooth things, but its better for smoothing out very small scratches and textures than larger ones.

UHHh and then once I'm happy with it and i've gotten all of the elements on and baked and sanded how I want- I'm done sculpting!!!

my painting process is more straightforward-

Put a coat of gesso on the sculpture so the paint doesn't scratch off easily

Paint a base coat in a color that's a little darker than I want the final colors to be- make sure to get this coat into every little crevice in the sculpture!!

Layer lighter colors on top, leaving crevices and areas that would typically be in shadow darker, until it looks how I want. This is a long and tedious process, but I really like the final appearance so I do this every time. I usually go too dark for my base color, underestimating how it will look once the lighter one goes on, and my paint is cheap as hell so it takes like one billion coats. I try to apply the lighter colors by dry brushing, but it doesn't always work how I want due to different paint having different consistencies, lol

Apply a couple coats of matte varnish onto most of the sculpture, and gloss varnish to eyes + any elements I want to be shiny. I try to use gloss sparingly because that makes it pop more where I do use it. This is also why I don't paint any bright highlight shines onto my eyes- its personal taste, but I think it looks SO cool when the natural light against the gloss varnish applies that bright highlight on its own.

Hopefully some of this is helpful! I have more WIP photos of older sculptures in my 'sculpture' tag, and also in my 'wip' and 'wips' tag (I'm really bad at remembering what tag to use so I've used both over the years, whoops)

[archduchessofnowhere]

“With her I experienced the curious feeling of living in today yet being able to reach out and touch the past”

Second and final part of Catherine Barjansky's account of her meetings with Queen Marie Sophie in 1914 (you can read part 1 here). In this part Catherine goes to a strange concert, tells us of Marie's eating habits, and reflects over the Wittlesbach sister's lives while sculpting. Also completely unwarranted Francesco II's looks bashing (we hate to see it):

A few days later my husband and I received a letter from the Comtesse de la Tour, inviting us to accompany the Queen of Naples to a concert in Geneva and to dine with her. When we reached the hotel lobby the Comtesse was waiting for us.

“The Queen will come in a moment,” she announced, and she hurried away. The Comtesse too lived in a phantom kingdom, and the etiquette of a court was part of the fabric of her life.

In a little while the lady in waiting returned with the Queen, the little white-haired Comtesse pattering along with fast steps, struggling to keep up with the long swift pace of the Queen. The latter was dressed as inconspicuously as though she wished to be invisible, in a long black coat, black hat, and black veil. She passed through the lobby like a breeze, a little breath of cold air, and yet eyes followed her as she went because she was so unlike anyone else.

In a dark automobile driven by an old chauffeur, we went to the concert hall. That was a strange concert, for most of the musicians were busy making war instead of making music, and the orchestra had been scrambled together haphazardly. Few of the players were professional musicians; they were unaccustomed to ensemble playing, and they had been inadequately rehearsed. Yet the conductor, though he was manifestly dissatisfied with the result, drew some wonderful phrases from them. He was, we learned from the program, the great musician and composer, Ernest Bloch.

The Queen, stiff and erect it was impossible to imagine that emaciated body at rest listened to the music with closed eyes. And when the concert was over, she hastened through the hall like drifting smoke and into a side street where her motorcar was waiting.

Dinner was served in the small dining room of her suite. While we waited to be summoned, the Comtesse told us that the Queen was accustomed to dining early because she ate only one meal a day. The routine of her life, like everything about her, was strange. Every morning, regardless of the weather, she went out at eight o'clock and for two hours walked swiftly through the streets. Geneva is famous for its disagreeable and severe winds, but they never prevented the Queen from taking her outing. It was almost as though she disregarded the weather, as she did mankind, as unworthy of her notice.

When she returned to her hotel she ate some ice cream. Between three and four in the afternoon a large dinner was served, and again from six to eight in the evening she sped through the streets, as though in swift pursuit of a mirage, the ghost of a queen moving unseen by the people of Geneva. At eight o'clock she ate more ice cream and so ended her curious day.

That day at dinner she sat between my husband and me. The only other people present were her lady in waiting and Mr. Tramontana, her court gentleman, a Neapolitan. These two people had left Naples with her at the time of her exile and had spent their whole lives in her service, creating by their devotion and their sacrifice a phantom kingdom in which the Queen could live.

It was amusing to see what quantities of food this shadow of a woman could consume: soup, steak, vegetables, dessert, coffee. There was comedy in the stately meal and the voracious appetite.

And after dinner I began the wax portrait. She is imprisoned there in wax, the Queen of Naples, with her stiff back; her austere black dress; her long and ghostly hands that will not let go their tenacious hold of what is hers; the narrow feet resting so lightly on a gold-and-black cushion; the strange blue eyes and aristocratic nose; the bitter mouth with its narrow lips; the high forehead with its black braids and imaginary crown.

I did the sculpture with fabrics. The figure sits on an arm chair that looks like a throne, its color a faded red and gold. I covered the body with black velvet and tulle. The background is an old brocade of gray and gold. The face broods, the bitter mouth is unreconciled.

While the wax portrait was gradually taking shape under my fingers, I thought of the extraordinary fate that had been the lot of so many of that Bavarian house of Wittelsbach. As the waxen Queen of Naples took on life and resemblance, I studied my sitter whose kingdom had not existed since Garibaldi united Italy under the house of Savoy, which she hated with a deep, corroding hatred. I thought how strange it was that this hotel, where she had elected to live out her exile, was directly opposite the spot where, years before, her sister Elizabeth had been staying at the time of her death. It was as difficult for me to imagine the radiant Elizabeth of Bavaria, wife of Francis Joseph, becoming old, as it was to picture this gaunt woman as young and lovely. Yet lovely she had been, for many men had loved her. Young too. For she was only nineteen when she had her brief moment of authentic glory. One would think she might, even then, have been somewhat disillusioned with kingdoms, married as she was to a man so ugly that no one ever dared to take his photograph, a King who, in the face of revolt, cravenly took himself off to Rome. But the young Queen Maria of Naples had appeared on the barricades and stood all day long, in the face of whining bullets, encouraging the soldiers, urging them on by her presence.

Modeling the thin lips, that bitter mouth, sterile, devoid of all passion, one could not help wondering how much of that stormy past she remembered and what meaning it had for her now.

These Wittelsbachs certainly were destined to lead violent lives. Empress Elizabeth of Austria had died at the hand of an assassin, and her only son had been a suicide. Another sister, the Duchess Sophie of Alençon, was at one time betrothed to Ludwig, the eccentric King of Bavaria. She was later burned to death in a fire at a charity bazaar.

Each time I came to work on the wax portrait, my husband accompanied me. Arid on one of these occasions we took part in the Queen's evening walk. On our return to the hotel we found two Neapolitans waiting for her at the door. “Long live the Queen!” they shouted lustily. On the long pale face appeared the rare smile that made her nearly human. She extended her hands to the man and woman, who bowed and kissed them. “Long live the Queen!” they shouted again. She smiled once more, entered the hotel and disappeared in the cage of the elevator.

Later I took the wax portrait with me to Rome, where I finished it and so, although in wax, she came again to Italy, which she loved and still regarded as a possession, a piece of property wrongfully snatched from her grasp. She was seventy-four at the time I met her, and after leaving Switzerland I was never to see her again and never to forget her. With her I experienced, as I later did in Egypt, the curious feeling of living in today yet being able to reach out and touch the past.

[mosal7y]

3d product renderings and mockups

It seems like you're looking for information or assistance with 3D product renderings and mockups. Creating 3D product renderings and mockups is a crucial step in the design and marketing process for various industries. Here's some information to help you get started:

1. Software for 3D Rendering:

Blender: A powerful and free open-source 3D creation suite.

Autodesk Maya: Widely used in the film and video game industry.

Cinema 4D: Known for its intuitive interface and powerful capabilities.

KeyShot: A standalone 3D rendering and animation application.

2. Creating 3D Models:

CAD Software (Computer-Aided Design): Use software like AutoCAD, SolidWorks, or Rhino to create accurate 3D models.

Sculpting Software: Tools like ZBrush or Blender's sculpting features are great for organic shapes.

3. Texturing and Materials:

Apply realistic textures and materials to your 3D model using UV mapping techniques.

Software like Substance Painter or Quixel Mixer can help create detailed and realistic materials.

4. Lighting:

Proper lighting is crucial for realistic renders. Experiment with different light setups to achieve the desired look.

Consider using High Dynamic Range Imaging (HDRI) for realistic environmental lighting.

5. Rendering:

Choose the appropriate rendering engine for your needs (Cycles in Blender, Arnold, V-Ray, etc.).

Adjust rendering settings such as resolution, quality, and output format.

6. Mockup Tools:

Adobe Dimension: Allows you to create realistic 3D mockups and product visualizations.

Placeit: An online platform that lets you create mockups with your designs on various products.

Mockup World: Offers a variety of free and premium mockups for different products.

7. Tutorials and Learning Resources:

Online platforms like Udemy, Coursera, and YouTube offer tutorials on 3D modeling, rendering, and mockup creation.

Join forums and communities like Blender Artists or Polycount for support and feedback.

8. Considerations for Product Mockups:

Understand the target audience and purpose of the mockup.

Pay attention to lighting, shadows, and reflections to make the mockup realistic.

Test the mockup on different backgrounds to ensure versatility.

9. Outsourcing:

If creating 3D models and renders is outside your expertise, consider outsourcing to professional 3D artists or agencies.

Remember to practice and experiment with different techniques to refine your skills. The field of 3D rendering is vast, and continuous learning is key to staying updated with the latest trends and technologies.

[deal4shop]

Eyebrow Pencil and Clear Eyebrow Sculpt Gel, 2PCS Brow Makeup Set, Waterproof and Long Lasting Brow Laminating Wax & Precise Eyebrow Pen (Black and Clear)

Price: (as of – Details) From the brand Espoce With advanced production equipment and professional technology, management team specializing in the production of lipstick, lip gloss, eye shadow, eyebrow pencil, eyebrow powder, foundation concealer mascara, eyeliner and other cosmetic products. We Adhering to the principle of “customer first, quality first” to provide best service to our…

[eruden-writes]

Strictly Pleasure - Part 1 Preview

orc x human paranormal romance

Summary: An awkward fresh-out-of-a-relationship woman and an orc that owns a sex store enter an adult theater together. She, intent on pushing her own boundaries. He, just looking to give her some sense of safety. Well, that and he wouldn't complain about having a bit of fun himself.

After they inevitably get interrupted, Jek deals with the problem while Heidi flees. Resigned, he believes he'll never see her again.

Thus begins Jek and Heidi's sporadic interactions until, eventually, they find themselves fumbling around each other daily at the very place it started: Strictly Pleasure.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

The human patron had been standing outside Strictly Pleasure’s theater for fifteen minutes. Jek couldn’t recall their name, didn’t think they ever introduced themselves on those occasions they came with their partner or friends. He watched them from the edge of his glasses, while pretending to read on his phone, as they ventured closer to the theater doors before turning away again. They’d busy themselves with some display or make a circuit around the shop before attempting again.

He only stopped watching the customer when Gnadi, his faun employee and co-worker, leaned over to whisper, “Boss, you should ask them if they want company.”

“Pretty sure they have a partner.” Jek kept his voice low and shook his head, but couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. At twenty-six, Gnadi possessed both a hot-libido and aspirations to be a matchmaker. A dangerous combination for Jek, their senior by sixteen years, since they were always trying to hook him up with patrons.

“Well, they’re alone now,” Gnadi pointed out, eyes shifting from the customer to him. Their expression made it clear what they thought. Someone alone in Strictly Pleasure without their partner? A break up. Or a soon-to-be break up. “Besides, you know how often the freshly-broken up do things not in their nature.”

With a noncommittal hum, Jek glanced back over at the awkward patron. They certainly looked out of their element, if he had any insight. And there had never been a time in the past when they came without someone, whether it was a partner or friend. If they were here alone, there was a reason.

Nagged by Gnadi’s intent expression and a soft-hearted curiosity, Jek heaved a sigh and pushed off his stool. He ignored his employee’s whispered well wishes in his wake. If he let the words settle, he would get embarrassed, so he focused on closing the distance between himself and the patron. When he was close enough, he lobbed the ever-professional question, “Do you need help?”

Startled, Heidi’s attention snapped up as one of Strictly Pleasure’s employees approached her. Of course, it was the orc. It couldn’t be the androgynous faun, but the orc - with their badge reading ‘Jek’ and ‘he/they’ beneath - that her ex commonly teased her for staring at.

In Heidi’s defense, Jek had an elaborate - involving scales, flowers, and miscellaneous imagery - colorful tattoo sleeve on his left arm, always covered up to some degree. Getting a new peek of additional details always delighted her curiosity. Plus, recently, he had dyed his hair - a braided fauxhawk pulled into a ponytail - a strawberry blonde, which only brought out their usual red under-eye shadow and the red scale-like design in their tattoo.

Further, it wasn’t as if he was hard to look at. Tall and bulky, as orcs were wont to be, and with a face Heidi would consider sculpted, jawline currently sporting a five o’clock shadow. A scar notched across his nose, but there were no other scars she could see beyond that. Not that she looked too hard, of course,

“I’m fine,” she squeaked, trying to maintain eye contact with Jek’s hazel green gaze.

“Really?” Jek tilted his head until he peered over his half-moon glasses at them. “Because it looks like you’ve been trying to head into the theater for about twenty minutes now.”

Another flash of heat jolted through Heidi, her eyes widening behind her glasses. “You’ve been watching me?”

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Want more?

TWO full chapters are already live on my Patreon! ;3

[rashapofessional]

Beyond the Spotlight: How Bullet Bars Elevate Stage Lighting with Precision

Stage lighting is a crucial element in creating an impactful performance experience. It sets the mood, defines the visual space, and draws the audience's attention to key elements on stage. While traditional spotlights offer a basic level of illumination, they lack the precision and flexibility needed for truly dynamic stage lighting design. This is where bullet bars come in – innovative fixtures offering a powerful solution for highlighting specific areas and creating dramatic lighting effects.

What Exactly is a Bullet Bar?

A bullet bar, also known as a bullet pinspot bar, is a compact lighting fixture containing multiple individually focused spotlights arranged in a linear fashion. These spotlights, often referred to as "bullets," offer a narrow beam angle for precise light projection. Unlike traditional spotlights that bathe a wider area in light, bullet bars allow for pinpointing specific locations on stage, creating a more focused and impactful visual experience.

Features of Bullet Bars: Power in a Compact Package

Though small in size, bullet bars pack a punch when it comes to features that elevate stage lighting design. Here are some key features to consider:

Individual Beam Control: Each spotlight within the bullet bar can be adjusted independently. This allows lighting technicians to control the direction and angle of each beam, ensuring precise targeting of specific performers, instruments, or set pieces.

Varied Beam Angles: Bullet bars often offer a range of beam angles for each spotlight. This flexibility allows for creating tight, focused beams for highlighting small details or wider beams for washing larger areas with light.

Color Capabilities: Modern bullet bars typically feature LED technology, offering a wide range of color options for each spotlight. This allows for creating vibrant color washes, selecting specific color temperatures, or even programming dynamic color-changing effects.

Dimmer Functionality: Many bullet bars allow for individual dimming control of each spotlight. This provides precise control over the intensity of each beam, enabling smooth transitions and the creation of subtle lighting effects.

Automated Control Options: Some bullet bars offer the ability to be programmed with automated lighting sequences. This allows for pre-set lighting cues to be triggered at specific moments in a performance, creating a dynamic and professional-looking lighting show.

How Can Bullet Bars Elevate Your Stage Lighting?

The bullet bar features translate into many benefits for stage lighting design. Here are some ways they can elevate your productions and add a spark to any event:

Highlighting Performers and Instruments: Bullet bars excel at drawing attention to specific performers or instruments on stage. By precisely focusing beams on faces, hands playing instruments, or key props, they create a strong visual connection between the audience and the performance.

Creating Depth and Dimension: The ability to control the direction and angle of each beam allows for sculpting light on stage. Lighting designers can use bullet bars to create layers of light and shadow, adding depth and dimension to the visual experience.

Enhancing Mood and Atmosphere: With the ability to control color and intensity, bullet bars can be used to create specific moods and atmospheres on stage. From creating a warm and intimate setting to generating a high-energy rock concert vibe, bullet bars offer versatile color palettes to enhance the emotional impact of a performance.

Adding Dynamic Effects: With automated control options, bullet bars can be programmed for dynamic lighting cues that change throughout the show. This can add excitement and energy to a performance, keeping the audience visually engaged and immersed in the experience.

Efficient Use of Space: Bullet bars are a space-saving solution for stage lighting. Their compact size allows them to be mounted in a variety of locations, eliminating the need for bulky lighting fixtures and maximizing space on smaller stages.

Bullet bars are no longer a niche product; they are becoming a staple in the world of stage lighting. Their precise control, versatility, and compact size make them a valuable tool for lighting technicians and designers of all levels. From highlighting performers to creating dynamic lighting effects, bullet bars offer a powerful solution for elevating your stage lighting and creating a truly captivating experience for your audience. Whether you're a seasoned lighting professional or just starting out, consider incorporating bullet bars into your stage lighting design for a touch of precision and impactful effect.

[alukovinyl]

Unleashing Elegance and Power: The Allure of Gloss Metallic Pagoda Red Car Vinyl Wrap

In the world of car customization, few colors command attention and exude sophistication like Gloss Metallic Pagoda Red. This stunning shade of red, with its deep metallic sheen, is the perfect choice for car enthusiasts who want to make a bold yet refined statement on the road. Whether you're looking to wrap your entire vehicle or highlight specific areas, the Gloss Metallic Pagoda Red car vinyl wrap offers a perfect blend of style, durability, and luxury.

The Power of Red: A Timeless Symbol of Passion and Strength

Red has always been a color associated with power, passion, and prestige. It’s a color that turns heads and leaves a lasting impression. Gloss Metallic Pagoda Red takes this classic hue to the next level with its rich, deep tone and metallic finish. The result is a car that not only stands out but also conveys a sense of elegance and sophistication. This color is ideal for drivers who want their vehicle to reflect both their powerful presence and refined taste.

The Metallic Finish: Adding Depth and Dimension

What sets Gloss Metallic Pagoda Red apart from other shades of red is its metallic finish. This finish adds a subtle shimmer and depth to the color, giving it a dynamic, almost liquid appearance. As light hits the surface, the metallic particles catch and reflect it, creating a captivating play of light and shadow. This effect enhances the car’s contours and lines, making the overall design appear more fluid and sculpted.

The metallic finish also adds a layer of luxury to the wrap, making it look and feel like a premium custom paint job. For those who want their car to radiate a sense of exclusivity, Gloss Metallic Pagoda Red is an excellent choice.

Versatility for Any Vehicle

Gloss Metallic Pagoda Red is a versatile color that complements a wide range of vehicle types, from sporty coupes to luxury sedans and even rugged SUVs. It can be applied as a full-body wrap for a dramatic transformation or used as an accent color to enhance specific areas of the car, such as the hood, roof, or side mirrors. The wrap's high-gloss metallic finish works well with various design styles, whether you’re aiming for a classic, sporty, or modern look.

Durability That Matches Its Beauty

Aside from its striking appearance, the Gloss Metallic Pagoda Red vinyl wrap is also known for its durability. Made from high-quality materials, this wrap is designed to protect your car’s original paint from everyday wear and tear. It acts as a shield against minor scratches, chips, and UV rays, which can cause the paint to fade over time. The wrap is also resistant to environmental factors like rain, snow, and dirt, ensuring that your car maintains its vibrant color and shine for years to come.

Easy Application and Removal

One of the major advantages of vinyl wraps is their ease of application and removal, and Gloss Metallic Pagoda Red is no exception. Professional installers can apply the wrap quickly and efficiently, ensuring a smooth, bubble-free finish that adheres perfectly to the car’s surface. The precision in application means that every detail, from the smallest crevices to the broadest panels, is covered seamlessly.

Should you decide to change your car’s appearance down the road, the wrap can be removed without damaging the underlying paint. This gives you the freedom to experiment with different styles and colors as your tastes evolve.

Conclusion: A Statement of Luxury and Power

Gloss Metallic Pagoda Red car vinyl wrap is more than just a color—it’s a statement. It’s a way to showcase your vehicle’s strength, elegance, and unique character. Whether you’re cruising through city streets or parked at a high-end event, this color ensures that your car will be the center of attention.

For those who appreciate the finer things in life and want their vehicle to reflect that, Gloss Metallic Pagoda Red is the perfect choice. It’s a color that embodies both luxury and power, making it the ultimate expression of automotive style.

[digitalsolution123]

Light For Photography

Shedding Light on Photography: A Comprehensive Guide to Illumination Techniques

Introduction:

Light is the essence of photography. It shapes our perception, defines the mood, and ultimately brings life to the images we capture. Understanding how to manipulate light is fundamental for any photographer, whether you're a novice or a seasoned professional. In this comprehensive guide, we delve into the intricacies of light for photography, exploring various techniques, tools, and tips to help you harness its power and elevate your photographic prowess.

Understanding Light:

Before delving into lighting techniques, it's essential to grasp the fundamentals of light. Light behaves differently depending on its source, intensity, direction, and quality. Natural light, such as sunlight and moonlight, offers a dynamic range of possibilities, from soft diffused light during cloudy days to dramatic shadows during golden hour. Artificial light sources, including continuous lights and strobes, provide greater control over intensity and direction, allowing photographers to sculpt and shape the scene according to their vision.

Types of Lighting:

Photographers employ various lighting setups to achieve different effects in their images. Some common lighting techniques include:

1. Natural Light: Harnessing the ambient light available in the environment.

2. Soft Light: Using diffusers or modifiers to create gentle, flattering illumination with minimal shadows.

3. Hard Light: Direct, intense light that produces sharp, defined shadows, often used for dramatic effect.

4. Rembrandt Lighting: Characterized by a small, triangular highlight on one side of the face, named after the renowned Dutch painter Rembrandt van Rijn.

5. Butterfly Lighting: Placing the key light directly in front and above the subject, creating a symmetrical butterfly-shaped shadow under the nose.

6. Rim Lighting: Positioning the light source behind the subject to create a glowing outline, adding depth and separation from the background.

Tools and Equipment:

Investing in the right lighting gear can significantly enhance your photographic results. Some essential tools for controlling light include:

1. Reflectors: Redirecting and bouncing light to fill in shadows or add highlights.

2. Diffusers: Softening harsh light by spreading it evenly, reducing contrast and producing a more flattering effect.

3. Flash Units: Portable artificial light sources that provide additional illumination, particularly useful in low-light situations or when a burst of light is needed.

4. Light Modifiers: Attachments such as softboxes, umbrellas, and grids that modify the quality and direction of light for desired effects.

5. Light Meters: Devices for measuring the intensity of light, helping to achieve proper exposure and consistency in lighting setups.

Techniques for Creative Lighting:

Beyond basic illumination, mastering creative lighting techniques can take your photography to new heights. Experimentation is key, but here are a few techniques to get you started:

1. Silhouettes: Backlighting your subject to create a striking silhouette against a bright background.

2. Light Painting: Using long exposure and handheld light sources to paint or draw in the frame, adding unique patterns and textures.

3. High-Key and Low-Key Lighting: High-key lighting involves brightly illuminating the scene to create a light, airy atmosphere, while low-key lighting uses predominantly dark tones for a moody, dramatic effect.

4. Colored Gels: Placing colored filters over your light sources to add vibrant hues and create a more dynamic and visually compelling image.

Conclusion:

Mastering light in photography is an ongoing journey, requiring experimentation, practice, and a keen eye for detail. Whether you're shooting portraits, landscapes, or still life, understanding how light interacts with your subject is essential for creating compelling and visually stunning images. By familiarizing yourself with different lighting techniques, investing in the right equipment, and honing your creative skills, you can unlock the full potential of light and take your photography to the next level. So, grab your camera, explore the endless possibilities of light, and let your creativity shine!