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frogcoven88 · 1 month

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My Thoughts on Wish 💫💜🌳🐐🫧

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD⚠️

FUCK I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

First of all, this review is dedicated to that one Wish stan on Twitter who said I have "no media literacy" when I tried to say that Magnifico wasn’t really threatening, but wasn’t trying to start off a big fight or anything.

I hope that person is having a wonderful day, and I hope this review proves that I do actually have media literacy 🥰🥰

Now, back to the film:

I really wanted to like this movies guys. A film about the origins of the wishing star sounded amazing!

And after I saw the film TWICE in theaters, I was in love. I thought surely my opinion wouldn’t change.

But…the more I thought about the movie, the worst it got.

For example, the songs. I don’t think I need to explain to you guys why "I let you live for free and I don’t even charge you rent" and "throw caution to every warning sign" and "watch out world here I are" DO NOT WORK.

I don’t blame the songwriters for this, because I’m sure they are very talented people.

But they were clearly not the people who should have been in charge of the music.

Not to mention the fact that Julia Michaels was given TWO WEEKS to write “This Wish”….

The Characters

Asha 💜

I like Asha’s design enough, like her braids. But her personality is as bland as a scoop of vanilla ice cream (jk, vanilla ice cream is goated).

Lots of people have complained that the “adorkable” leading lady trope has worn out its welcome.

I used to disagree since those “quirky” characters were some of my favorites (Like Rapunzel, Mirabel, and Moana), but Asha has definitely reached my limit with them.

Rapunzel, Anna, Moana, and Mirabel all feel like distinct characters from each other (yeah stfu ModernGurlz), but Asha feels like an imitation of them, like the cheap Walmart version.

And she’s not really interesting either, she has a passion for art, but the film doesn’t do anything with it. In fact, nothing about her feels genuine. She feels so hollow and like she only has two personality traits: Quirky and the protagonist.

Like, during “This Wish” (which is probably the worst Disney “I want” song ever) I never felt connected with her. It just felt like, oh this is the Disney “I want” song because this is a Disney movie.

I didn’t understand what Asha wanted, “something more for us than this”? Okay…what about you? What do you want?

With all the other Disney “I want” songs, I could feel a connection and what the character wanted.

So yeah, Asha is probably the worst protagonist in the modern era of Disney. At least in terms of writing.

And while I did say I like her design, I prefer her concept arts.

King Magnifico 🫧

Chris Pine seems like he is having a blast in the recording booth, and I gotta say his performance was pretty good. But it wasn’t enough to save this character :/

So, the main problem with his character is that I can kinda agree with him on the whole wishes thing. But, I also barely found him threatening.

The most threatening things he does in this movie is crush a bunch of balls (that’s what she said) that make people feel sad and chain everyone to the ground.

Not only that, Magnifico’s use of his magic is SO LAME! Another major reason I was never intimated by him is because he never did anything really scary or threatening with his magic, all he could do was create giant hands and chain people up. Like…ok? Is that all you got? Really? 😑

Also, I don’t think I need to tell you that his villain song SUCKS ASS. You know it, everyone knows it. I’m not getting into it. Go listen to a real villain song like "Hellfire" or “Friends on the other side" instead.

As for the other characters, I don’t have much to say about them unlike Asha and Magnifico.

Star ⭐️

The Star was really really cute, even tho they were just a Luma/marketable plushie. And also REALLY reminds me of a squish mallow, am I the only one who sees that?

I should definitely mention how he was originally gonna be a StarBoy, but we’ll get to that later don’t you worry. That is a VERY important element in our discussion.

The Other Characters This Movie Has

Amaya is so BORING! She barely has a character outside of being the queen and Magnifico’s wife, she was just…there. You could remove her from the movie with very little tweaking and nothing would change.

I would’ve preferred it if she was also a villain like Magnifico, which WAS originally in the script. But like StarBoy, that is something we will get to later.

The Teens are fine, but really forgettable. I like how they are all based off the Seven Dwarves, that’s cute. But it feels like they didn’t have any character outside of that.

Yeah, Dahlia is Asha’s bestie, but there wasn’t enough scenes between them to show me their dynamic to make me feel like their friendship was genuine.

Simon ended up snitching out on Asha and betraying the Teens in the middle, but I literally couldn’t have cared less because what do we know about this guy other than he’s sleepy and gave his wish to Magnifico?

As for the other Teens, just like Amaya, they could’ve been removed from the script and barely anything would change. The grumpy one had some sassy moments, and he’s voiced by Harvey Guillén (Perrito’s VA) so that’s something I guess. The shy one had this one gag that had comedic potential, but wasn’t really expanded.

And as for the other Teens…uh…I can’t remember a single thing they did honestly.

And then there’s Valentino…fuck that goat man. 😑 I love Alan Tudyk and his roles in other (better) Disney movies, but yeah Valentino is definitely my least favorite role he’s ever done.

All of his jokes were unfunny, and were mostly butt jokes. Which is probably my least favorite form of comedy ever that I cannot stand for the life of me.

Speaking of which, this movie just was not funny. None of the jokes made me laugh or chuckle or even smile.

Raya and the Last Dragon is a Disney movie that I really don’t like, but there were some jokes that got a chuckle or smile out of me. Wish didn’t even have ONE good joke.

Uhh…Asha’s grandpa was build up as someone important but he just peaces out in the middle of the movie with Asha’s mom, who did not do a single thing other than a ball getting shattered making her sad.

And that’s all the characters in this movie.

Legacy Nods, why they do not work

Alright, what else is there to talk about?

Maybe the endless amount of Disney references? I get it’s the 100th anniversary film and all and Disney has had Hidden Gems like that in their films. But the difference is the ones in previous films were subtle and hidden in the background, and it would probably take you a rewatch to see it.

But in Wish? They all feel shoved down your throat. It’s like: “HEY REMEMBER THIS MOVIE??" “REMEMBER THAT??” “DON’T YOU WANNA WATCH THAT MOVIE???” It’s so exhausting.

When I heard the movie was gonna have “legacy nods” as they liked to call it, I was excited and thought it would be so much fun to point them all out and to pay closer attention to the background.

But instead every nod was thrown at my face and was heavily obvious. Disappointing 😔

The Animation

Let’s get to the animation now. It’s probably (one of) the most discussed things about this movie, especially when the teaser first dropped last year.

Lots of people were complaining it looks like a Disney Junior show or Ai and said it looks unfinished. Even one of my best friends who was just as excited for this movie as I was admitted it looked weird.

At first, I loved this art style and thought it was beautiful. And I was determined it would look even more beautiful on the big screen.

And now? I…actually still like it. I definitely don’t hate it, and thinks it gets some getting used to. I think it’s actually kinda pretty.

Apparently it’s supposed to be watercolor and combined with 2D animation, which is neat.

But compared to the films like the Spider Verse films or Puss In Boots 2, yeah it’s not the best.

I personally would’ve preferred it if the film was in 2D, Disney’s 100th anniversary would’ve been a PERFECT time to return 2D animation! But, nope 😒

Yeah it’s bad, but…

I know I’m making it seem like I hate this movie, but I really don’t. I’m disappointed in it more than anything.

If anything, I’m thankful this movie was still made.

Why?

Well, easy.

It allowed many people to be able to tell their own version of the story.

I’m sure we’ve all heard of StarBoy and the cut Evil Amaya.

And yeah, these concepts could’ve made this movie 1000x better.

But because of these concepts, so many amazing people have been given the opportunity to rewrite the movie and give amazing stories.

I have read so many wonderful Wish rewrites, which are so much better than the film.

At the end of the today, Wish is a bad movie.

But, I’m glad it exists.

Without it, we wouldn’t have gotten so many amazing stories.

I’m gonna give Wish a 4/10, still bad, but I appreciate its existence for the rewrites alone.

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froznwater · 9 months

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please do not vote if you have not read collateral or simply do not plan to continue reading <33

there will also be a poll on tiktok (so technically you could have 2 votes lmao) when this poll has ended. I am stretching them out so if you miss the first one, the second is still available. TikTok polls also have a max of 24 hours.

The result will be the combined total from both apps.

I will do another poll/take suggestions for what scenes after we decide on which scenario.

Alternative POV scene: I will write the scene from the other characters perspective. (Will not be the whole chapter, but still a decent chunk, at least 2k words)

Extra art scene: I will draw a scene I’ve left behind! As I am attempting to do one scene per chapter only. There’s many scenes people have asked to draw afterward.

I will be finishing Alenoah week, and the next chapter before this is started, but I am going to go ahead and do the polls now to give people some time. And so that we don’t have to go through the whole process later.

ALSO:

Thank you guys so so so much for your support!!! You have been amazinggggg. So many sweet comments and even fanart!!! Ahhhhh!! Thank you for all the asks, questions or comments, I love them all. We got 1k+ kudos with only 3 chapters and I believe we are currently the #3 fic under Alenoah!!! Insane. 💕💕💕

Thank you guys for being patient with the next chapter, as I really wanted to participate in Alenoah week :P

#collateral #alenoah

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loverboy-havocboy · 9 days

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infodump at me about aliit au tattoos? please?

kissing you on the mouth about this, if i may. long post ahead, i imagine.

starting with comet:

starry night tattoo - comet is a painter and his favorite artist/main stylistic inspiration is van gogh. i think this is one of the first real tattoos boost did after beginning his apprenticeship in keldabe

honeycomb - this is the testosterone symbol! it's also a matching tattoo with his ori'vod thorn, who was (likely) the first other transmasc he ever met and whose non profit helped pay for comet's top surgery.

art is the weapon - a reference mcr's danger days album and a quote by either frank or gerard: art is the weapon, your imagination is the ammunition, stay dirty and stay dangerous, create and destroy as you see fit. i think that speaks to comet both as an artist and as a queer person, and i think the whole pack is insane about mcr. boost probably gave him this one in high school.

trans symbol - this commemorates his first hrt injection! boost did the injection and the tattoo a week after comet turned 18.

phoenix - this is a huge part of comet's character, and is done in out of the ashes. it's a cover up that helped him let go of an abusive relationship and reminds him of what he's capable of. it's also dedicated to/inspired by @brokenphoenix99, who's been around for comet since day one.

cowboy star - sinker gave him this tattoo under boost's very careful supervision!!

flowers - suggested by phoenix when i didn't like his old chest tattoo, these accentuate his scars rather than distract from them. they're something he's very proud of, so that makes much more sense for him. the flowers represent growth, new beginnings, and him finding the comfort in himself he needed to embrace his femininity. the butterfly is for change/transition.

pack tattoos (dog, sun moon stars, swords) - i'd say all of these are probably from high school if not very soon after. the wrist tattoo was the first tattoo any of them ever got and the first boost ever did. it was a stick and poke and they were around 14-16. sinker's given name means sun ray, boost has always been caught in his orbit (yes, we're excluding earth for this metaphor) and is the more quiet/reserved, so has always been his moon. idk yet when comet chose his name or whether he was already their star at the time, but this became Their Thing. the dog is because they were so rabid/feral in high school (and because comet drew blood biting another kid in a fight) that they were dubbed a pack of wild animals/dogs. they took that and ran with it, calling themselves a pack. the swords are an all for one and one for all kind of deal.

i am creation & lightning bug - i am creation is a lyric from creature by half alive which is transgender To Me. the lightning bug was just cute and comet likes bugs.

sinker:

moths: obligatory sun and moon tattoo to symbolize him and boost. these were really fun to do, i just feel like he's a moth tattoo kind of guy, you know?

darasuum: mando'a for eternal/eternity. this is in boost's handwriting, over his heart.

snake: much like with the moths, he just gives me snake man vibes? i think he likes snakes a lot, as he's a friend to all creatures. the snake has a pattern of suns, moons, and stars.

hip star: i think comet probably did this one! either way, it's dedicated to him.

baby/doll: boost calls him babydoll sometimes. they both have other partners (mostly hook ups for boost, sinker goes on a lot more dates/has other relationships), but babydoll is something just for them. the baby tattoo spends a lot of time under collars (or boost's hands).

others: he's got a lot of random ones because he's been boost's practice body for almost a decade!

boost:

his tattoos would need their own fucking post, and some of them can be explained by comet and sinker's, so i'm just gonna hit a few.

dinosaur: sinker did this one!

"i'm here" star: comet did this tattoo! i'm gonna say maybe in high school.

lighter: "ni partayli gar darasuum" is mando'a for "i remember you, so you are eternal", which is part of the mandalorian death remembrance. this is a memorial for his parents. they died right before the pack started high school, and he was adopted by sinker's parents, who were already his godparents.

molotov cocktail: lyric from baby, i'm an anarchist by against me.

tic tac toe board: this is for sinker to play with when he's board. sometimes boost plays with him, sometimes comet.

gregor:

tallies: coric gives him a new one every time he does something stupidly risky that lands him in medical (which gregor generally just considers victory tallies, much to the medic's chagrin).

212: for his battalion!

bicep tattoo: foxtrot squad symbol framed by the words "jatnese be jatnese", mando'a for "best of the best". i'm gonna say his whole squad probably has this one!

#aliit au #aliit comet #aliit sinker #aliit boost #aliit gregor #ask havoc #wreaking havoc

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october-writes · 14 days

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Icarus sneak peek...

Okay, so I'm being super generous with this sneak peek because I have no idea when I'll be ready to post the whole fic. Pandora!Verse Leon has a long, bittersweet backstory and I love it, but it's a lot to get down especially when all I want to do is cry and hug him. 😫

Thank you for your patience. Any likes/comments here or on Pandora are the fuel that keeps the fic engine running.

‘Is this really where you grew up?’ she asked, her voice light with surprise.

He turned in time to see her cringe at the question. She’d been quiet since the drive away from the motel and the scene with Russ and his posse. No, scratch that. Ada had kept to herself because he’d asked her to and he’d been kicking himself for that ever since.

His stomach flipped whenever Ada asked him about himself; one part excitement, one part terror. He wanted to tell her everything and, in turn, he wanted to know her as well as he knew his deepest desires. But he was scared of the guy in those stories. Steadfast, optimistic, stable, responsible. He was sure that version of him had died on a forest floor. Now he was trying to live up to his own ghost.

Leon swallowed before replying glibly, ‘Nope! I grew up in a house.’

‘You know what I meant, Leon.’

God, he loved the way Ada said his name; like she owned the word, like no one had ever called him that but her.

‘Okay. I spent a lot of time here too,’ he conceded, nodding at the front facade of the church and the flawless circle of its Gothic stained glass window, ‘One Easter when I was fourteen, me and the chaplain’s son changed the sign out front to read: “Honk if you love Jesus”.’

She spluttered on a laugh, ‘You did what?’

‘You could barely hear mom’s sermon ‘cause of the car horns. I would’ve been grounded ‘til Christmas, but lucky for me she has a sense of humour! Damn. I was such a little asshole when I wanted to be.’

Ada bit her bottom lip until it shone pearlescent pink and he couldn’t look away from her mouth.

‘I could show you around,’ he offered suddenly, ‘If there was time.’

‘Really? And where would you take me?’

Her eyes glinted like a dare. He’d reignited her interest in him and they were back there again, at the edge of something beautiful and dangerous.

Go ahead. Impress me, rookie.

‘Well, um... there’s the Boott Cotton Mills Museum just across the canal,’ he suggested weakly, his throat suddenly dry, ‘I uh... I wrote an essay on it in High School.’

Her eyebrows twitched, ‘High School...?’

‘Yeah, it was on child labour reforms during the Industrial Revolution. I got an A minus.’

Oh for the love of- Shut up, shut up, shut up!

Ada blinked at him before turning away, ‘Interesting. Maybe some other time.’

Her eyes went dull, the glint of challenge extinguished. They were left beneath the cool light of the street lamp looking at everything but each other.

‘Come on. We should get going before I’m recognised,’ he said, leading her across the street, ‘We’ll check out the back lot.’

Leon remembered the first time Sarah had taken him to First Presbyterian to help out the day crew, officially as penance for his reckless escape attempt on his first night under her roof. He hadn’t been due to start school for another week and, while he’d been sincerely forgiven for his antics, he’d still been grounded.

The church ran a Day Centre from Monday to Friday, the doors opening at eight on the dot come rain or shine or biblical levels of snow. Refreshments, clean clothes and pastoral counselling were available no questions asked and, in the evenings, volunteers served hot meals alongside a rotating programme of art therapy, sign language classes, and addicts anonymous meetings.

Sarah had started the programme during her first few months in Lowell. The way some locals liked to tell it, Sarah had crashed into town on a wave of radical ideas. The Day Centre hadn’t been popular with everyone, bringing ‘undesirables’ and addicts from the fringes into the centre of town where they were harder to ignore.

‘I’ve brought the poor and the sick to Jesus’ doorstep, just like he instructed,’ she’d retorted, knowing the Bible was her home turf and she’d arrived ready to fight dirty, ‘If you’ve got a problem, take it up with him!’

‘I’m on a first name basis with the Mayor’s office,’ Sarah had boasted as they’d carried boxes of donated clothing through the back of the church, ‘Mayor Wiggins reminds me every time I stop by that I shouldn’t let it go to my head! I think he preferred the old pastor, Reverend Dawson. But Wiggy knows I’m better at getting things done. He’d rather boil his own head in lard than admit it though, so I’m not holding my breath for the key to the city!’

Young Leon had tipped his head back to take in the building’s decadent red brick and stained glass, its silver spire bouncing the sun towards every corner of Lowell.

‘Is all this yours?’ he’d asked.

He’d lingered at the threshold, a deep breath ballooning his stomach as he’d prepared himself to enter. The air had smelled apple-crisp, the pavement sun-dappled and warming the tops of his sneakers. It had stirred something familiar inside of him. But he hadn’t been inside a church since... since they’d buried his mom.

Sarah had chuckled, bumping the backdoor open with her behind, ‘Oh, no! Frannie belongs to everyone. But I am humbly responsible for her, like a sheepdog with her flock.’

She knew the church well enough that she could walk through it backwards without knocking into anything. All the better to keep her eye on Leon so she could read her new foster son’s lips.

‘What does that make me?’ he’d wondered as he’d followed her, ‘Like... a stray puppy or something?’

She’d hooted at that.

‘I don’t tell people who they are, Leon. But if I am to be completely honest, which under his roof is essential,’ she’d thrown the box of donated winter coats onto a nearby table and had turned to relieve him of the ones he’d carried, ‘I am sincerely looking forward to meeting the man you’ll become some day.’

Leon hadn’t known what to say to that.

Old foster parents, social workers, even a cop once; they’d all warned him that who he was becoming was someone he should be afraid of, ashamed of. But Sarah had greeted all sides of him like they’d known and loved each other for years.

The Day Centre had become a fixture of Leon’s teenage years from that day on. He’d never been much for the services, the singing, the prayer. But he’d helped out with the art classes and he’d learned how to cook in the community kitchen. He’d taken sign language classes after school and pulled weeds from the community garden across the street. He’d done his homework in Sarah’s study, her day sermons sailing in through the open window like a warm breeze.

When he’d turned fifteen and grown a foot taller in what had felt like a week, Leon had begun captaining one of the local street hockey teams. Their casual league had been run out of the back lot of the church.

He remembered long afternoons three times a week, two dozen kids howling like wild animals after sunset, and sweating even when it was so cold he could see his breath. Rhonda in the goal, as reliable as rain in September. She’d used the church to escape her alcoholic dad for a few hours a day. And Marty, a formerly homeless teen, playing offense and doing a backflip every time he scored. The slap of hockey sticks, rollerblades tearing up the tarmac, a puck smacking off a brick wall, his heart in his throat as a shot narrowly missed a car window.

There was still a dent in a lamp post from where one of Leon’s shots had gone wide. It had struck the post so hard the bulb had gone out. They’d played the rest of the night by the light of the church’s silver steeple and it had felt like an incredible dream.

It had been yesterday and forever ago. But as Leon walked the lot with Ada now, a part of him was convinced he’d be back here tomorrow, hockey stick in hand with his skates tied at the laces and slung over his shoulder.

‘The Day Centre closes early Thursdays,’ he told Ada as they lingered at the edge of the lot, ‘It shouldn’t be this busy.’

The lights were on and the church shimmered from every window. The front of the building was still bustling, so they’d given it a wide berth. Though Leon had his cap down, he’d grown up inside these walls. There was no way he’d make it to the rectory without being recognised.

Ada was getting restless. Her face was hidden by her hood, but Leon could see the tense line her shoulders made beneath her sweater.

‘Maybe things have changed,’ she muttered.

‘She’ll be here,’ he replied, ‘That much’ll be the same. I know it will.’

Minutes later the backdoor to the church opened and Pastor Sarah stepped into the warm summer night.

Her dark hair had regrown in gentle waves, softer and less curly than before her illness and now tinged with grey. She wore a thick cardigan, unbuttoned and showing off a baggy Guns and Roses tour t-shirt that Leon had stolen from her closet about a hundred times before it had stopped fitting him.

Leon muffled a quiet laugh into the collar of his jacket, but deep down he felt like sinking to his knees.

He knew Lowell’s streets. He knew there was a house a few blocks away where his old bed waited and his sketchbooks tumbled out of the wardrobe in an avalanche of memories. But ‘home’ was a complicated concept for a guy who’d had so many. A one bedroom in Chicago snuggled safe between his mom and dad, Buchanan with its dreams unfulfilled, in shady motels forever awake in front of a TV with the sound as low as it would go, and finally seven foster homes; a number that made ‘normal’ people from ‘normal’ families wince so he’d stopped repeating it until he could almost imagine that his early childhood had happened to someone else.

For Leon, ‘home’ had eventually come to mean Sarah reminding him to be back by ten. Home was the leftover casserole in the fridge with his name on it. It was about not being alone at the kitchen table because Sarah would always wait up and ask him how his game went. She’d even pretended to understand the rules.

Someone Leon didn’t recognise stepped out with Sarah. It was an older woman in a long cotton dress. She and Sarah shared a quick hug before the woman left for her car. Sarah stood in the doorway and waved goodbye. Then she slid back into the church, disappearing like a dream at sunrise.

Ada was watching Leon. Her gaze passed up and down his face, mapping the angle of his nose and the cleft of his chin like they’d just met. Leon knew what she was thinking.

He and Sarah sang off-key to the same songs, they ate their eggs over-easy with too much Tabasco sauce, and they both thought cilantro tasted like soap. But they didn’t look even a little bit alike.

‘I’m adopted,’ he explained.

She frowned, surprised, ‘Oh. I see. I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not.’

‘I didn’t mean... I just didn’t know.’

‘But you knew my mom was a pastor?’

‘It was in your obituary.’

Leon did a double-take, ‘My... what? I have a damned obituary?’

‘Of course you do! You died,’ Ada replied sardonically, ‘Your colleagues had some interesting things to say about you.’

‘Yeah, I bet,’ he winced, and his mind raced to suss out exactly what Ada knew about the old him as filtered through the eyes of his peers. They’d treated Leon like he was fresh out of school and an old man at the same time, ‘Come on. It’s now or never.’

The back of the church held Sarah’s office, a common room for the staff, and a library that smelled like cold coffee and chocolate. Leon opened the door quietly and checked it was empty before ushering Ada inside.

They heard voices echoing from the church hall beyond the big wooden doors:

‘Has anyone seen Pastor Sarah? We’re running low on baby formula!’

‘She’s in her study. Don’t trouble her. I’ll call the supplier first thing tomorrow.’

‘I’ve barely seen her all day, Lucille. Is this ‘cause of that silly protest outside the Governor’s office? I told her to take it easy!’

‘She’s tired, Frank. Let her be.’

Sarah’s office door was ajar. Leon could see her shadow spilling over the desk and onto the carpet. He could smell her hand lotion, its residue on the doorknob. His eyes drifted shut as his hands formed a tight claw around the knob like he’d forgotten how doors worked.

Maybe this was a mistake. A panicked sensation surged inside his chest. Ada was right. Umbrella could be monitoring Sarah. He could put her in danger just be showing his face around town. He should go, shouldn’t he? Right now, just go and leave her be. He could think of another way to track down Jill and Chris.

And what was he going to say to her? How could he explain what had happened to him? She’d thought he was dead for nearly two years, but at least her ignorance had kept her safe.

Leon tensed when he felt a pressure on his forearm. He looked back to find Ada gently peeling him away from the door.

‘I’ll go first,’ she whispered, her dark eyes trained on his face, ‘I’ll make sure she’s alone.’

He nodded but Ada was already slipping past. She opened the door just enough to squeeze through.

‘Pastor Morris?’

A chair scraped the floor as Sarah stood.

‘Yes?’ her voice sounded jittery like she’d just woken from a nap, ‘Hold on... Let me just...’

There was a long pause. Leon guessed Sarah was fumbling with her cochlear implant.

‘Could you come closer, honey?’ Sarah said breathlessly, ‘I can’t quite hear you all the way over there. Are you here about tomorrow’s charity drive?’

‘No. No, I’m...’

Leon swayed on his feet, his ears ringing. He’d been so nervous, he’d forgotten to warn Ada that Sarah was deaf. He mentally kicked himself.

Then Ada raised her voice and when she spoke, she filled all corners of the little study, her voice lifting its high ceiling and rustling the pages of every tome. Like a fair summer wind, she was the little lift he needed to make it home.

‘I’m a friend of your son.’

Then it was as if they were the only three people in the building. A silence enveloped them, as dense and safe as stone. Leon didn’t feel himself move, but he felt Ada’s hand, warm and insistent around his wrist as she pulled him through the doorway and into his mother’s study.

Sarah, to her credit, didn’t cry out. She didn’t seem to be breathing either.

‘Mom?’

Her hands flew to her mouth. Her eyes turned red to signal an oncoming wave of tears. But when her hand fell, Leon saw she was smiling like it was the first time he’d ever called her that. It wasn’t, not by a long shot.

Leon took a step towards her. Then he stopped, realising that Ada was still holding his wrist. Her grip was loose, almost reassuring. Not too much pressure, just enough; like a whispered phrase he felt all the way up his arm to straight to his heart: ‘I’m right here’.

When his hand slipped from hers, Leon still felt her warmth; that fair wind driving him forward.

Sarah whined softly. She rubbed at her throat like the words had gotten tangled up in there and she needed pry them away from each other. Her fingers were trembling and he realised she was too overwhelmed to sign to him.

He stepped towards her and raised his hands to tell her:

I’ll explain everything. I promise.

I’m so sorry, mom. I’m sorry...

He made a fist with his thumb extended and scored circles with it deep into the centre of his chest. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Sarah dove forward and latched both her hands over his fist. Then she tugged him forward and threw her arms around his shoulders. She clung to her son like the grave could snatch him back. She buried her wet nose into the crook of his neck. Then she keened against his shoulder, a wordless cry of grief and joy combined that shook his core.

‘I love you so much. Okay? I love you,’ Leon murmured into the crown of her head where his tears were already soaking her hair. He hoped she could feel the raw honesty in his voice even if she couldn’t make out the words, ‘I missed you. I did! I missed you, mom.’

Who knows how long they huddled in the centre of her study? Long enough that his face was still pink but finally dry when they parted. Long enough that Sarah could stand to let him go so she could snatch a tissue from the box on her desk while laughing at how terrifying and strange and wonderful this was.

And long enough that when Leon looked over his shoulder, he saw that Ada had disappeared.

🥲

To be continued...

#fic: icarus #resident evil fanfiction #leon s kennedy #ada wong #aeon #leon x ada #ada x leon #scientist ada x test subject leon #for clarification: leon's foster mother is deaf #and leon started to learn american sign language when he went to live with her

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a-writers-blurbs · 11 days

Text

A bit of a disclaimer ig...

Hi guys,

This is going to be a long post that sounds slightly rant-y & I'm going to apologize in advance for that. I am going to make exactly ONE post (this one) about this topic, and I will not be discussing it further or posting about it again. I will also not be responding to any negative comments but deleting them instead.

These are my personal opinions and [...not *trying* to sound rude, but there's no other way to say it...] a bunch of random people online aren't going to change my opinions.

My husband is an artist. He does canvas painting & draws comic books (think anti-hero dark horse). I paint furniture (kinda mini murals) & make chibi drawings. I've also been writing fanfiction since the late 90s.

That being said, this post is about AI art.

I get the controversy, I do. But I've heard this argument before, when fanfiction became more popularized. The whole "You're just stealing someone else's work & changing it up to call it your own" is (at its core) the same argument against AI. The only difference is that instead of you yourself changing it, you're allowing a machine to do it.

But I digress...

Over the last week, I have received several messages about my use of AI art. First & foremost, my stuff is appropriately tagged as AI.

Second, I don't sell or advertise these pictures in any way. In fact, none of them have been posted anywhere but here (as of 6/1/24).

Third, and probably most important, I DONT MAKE THEM FOR YALL. Fanfiction & fanart are a HOBBY. It is something that I do because I enjoy it and it destresses me. I DO NOT do it, hoping I'll get 1000s of followers, views, likes, etc. Every story I write, I print & bind for my library. I will now be doing the same with my AI pictures.

I have a condition that has a symptom called Maladaptive Daydreaming. Because of this, my head is full of an alarming amount of excruciatingly detailed & unrealistic scenarios and images. (To the point that it affects my everyday life).

I can't necessarily recreate the images in my mind without help & the only way to get rid of the random scenarios is to write them out. So I do write them. And now I use AI to help me get a BASE image. I do still go in myself and edit/redraw parts of each generated image to fit them to the characters I want them to represent. I do thus using digital art.

Granted, there's a whole other group of people that think digital art isn't real art... but that's a discussion for another day. Anyway...

TLDR:

I use AI art & will continue to despite some people's dislike. I will continue to delete any and all comments left publicly that are malicious, rude, or condescending. My stories & are are for me. If others enjoy it, great, that's freaking awesome. If not, there are literally thousands of other fanfic authors you can follow instead of me.

Again, I apologize, I know this sounds rude. But I need to be 100% transparent on this one. I am extremely grateful for every folllower & reader I have. I won't lie & say comments/positive interaction isn't a serotonin boost because it is. Yall also give me more motivation to actually complete a story vs. moving on to the next idea. But I'm not going to change the way I do things to appease someone I don't even know.

This is one of the few things I enjoy doing in my free time & have been doing it for 25 years now, and in the last 5 or so years ALL fandoms have gotten so toxic its hard to enjoy anything anymore. Last time it got like this, I simply stopped posting. I'd rather not do that again, but if people (who aren't even following me) don't leave me alone, I'll probably have to do it again, sadly.

But for now, hopefully this post will give people with different opinions to go ahead and block me from their feed. We're not going to agree so instead of wasting energy arguing, let's keep the peace & agree to stay off if each others feeds.

I won't judge you on your idea that you feel it's your duty to harass people over their choices & you won't judge me for enjoying something. 😉

Thank you for listening. Love yall & and I hope your day is blessed!

#fanfic #kagome higurashi #lord sesshomaru #sesshomaru #sesshomaru x kagome #sesshomaru's mother #sesskag #sesskag fanfiction #sesskag fic #sesskag monthly prompt #ai #ai generated #ai art

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third-arch · 6 months

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My Corazon HC’s!! pt.1 🤍🤍

Corazon’s an interesting one, bc I feel like he’s either a really corny but like informed dad, or just a really really chill and sweet guy. So, here’s my random hybrid of HCs for Rosi!!

Two Beatles songs he really likes are “For No One” and “In My Life”.

His favorite flavors are cherry, strawberry, and lemon.

He loves Steven Universe.

He LOVES IU and he’s so vocal about it. Because of this, he likes purple! It’s not his fav color, but he thinks it’s very pretty.

Vinyls > CDs for him

He’d be the person to send you memes that are either very sweet or kinda outdated.

Like the previous one, he’d react to some of your texts with corny dad gifs.

He’s a Swiftie.

I’ll make a list of a bunch of anime I think he’d watch some other time, but he loves Madoka Magica. His favorites are Madoka and Mami. He got Law to watch it, too.

In general he really likes cute, silly, and magical girl anime, so things like Sailor Moon, Is This Order A Rabbit?, Chihayafuru, and Nichijou.

If he likes you, he’d invite you to concerts.

He has this hanging in his closet:

He’d watch Gossip Girl with you, but he’d be saying things like,

“These people are horrible!” the whole time LOL. And he’d still watch it with you. It would be a case of “This is horrible…I need more!” (Poor Corazon)

If you asked him the artist he listened to the most last week, he’d say Lyn Lapid. If he listens to her often is up to you.

If you ask him, “Do you like Radiohead?”

He’d say, “Radiohead’s okay. They’re not something I’d listen to on a daily basis, but I know Law really likes ‘em.”

Something I could imagine him saying would be,

“Oi, Law! Check this out! There’s this anime that y/n showed me called K-On. Isn’t it cool? Look!”

He’d cry watching KDramas like Descendants of the Sun. He’d invite you to watch them with him.

Romantic HC’s!!

He’d write you love letters. They’d be very sweet and gentle.

He’d stop smoking altogether if you didn’t like it. Like not just going to the balcony or setting boundaries, but he’d quit altogether.

He’d love whatever you wear.

If you guys met long distance or like not directly, then one likely possibility is that you met playing Sky CoL. (I might write a HC on this, too.)

If you had an art account, he’d like all of your posts, and tell you in private how much he liked them.

His love is very very gentle. He’ll let you take the lead on more intimate things and just be an equal with you.

He’d get so happy just having you as his Lock Screen. He’d show you off to Law or his Marine buddies.

“Look at y/n! Aren’t they cool?”

He’d kiss his lockscreen sometimes in front of you. Like (mwah) <-that

He’d get really sad if you called yourself ugly. Like he’d reassure you so much.

I honestly think whether you loved him back or not, if he had the chance to, one of the ways of telling you how much he loves you would be playing “Lover”, “Love Like You”, or “Thinking Out Loud” for you on the guitar. Just some really well known love song I feel like.

He’d find a way to dance with you. He’d make it work, somehow. He’d dress really nice, too!

Author’s NOTE:

I meant to make this tomorrow, but I’m taking a break from studying, so I went ahead and wrote it. Some of these were inspired by my boyfriend :))!!🤍🤍

#corazon op #corazon #op #one piece #trafalgar law #rosinante corazon #corazon x reader #op corazon #donquixote corazon #op rosinante #rosinante x reader #op imagines #one piece imagine #op hcs #one piece headcanons #trafalgar one piece

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jasonsknight3 · 7 months

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I thought I would just put part one and two together. If you already read part one you can scroll down to part to. I have it labeled just for you guys. I also tried a little somethign different this time. I’m a little nervous about it but we’ll see how it goes. Last thing, the art at the end I do not plan on finishing because e it’s just not going well. 😭 so you get to see part of it. Happy reading.

Zombie Jason fic

Part one

Over a year, it’s been over a year since it began. It took about 24 hours of screaming, panic, choking, and pain for it to spread like wildfire, it took a couple days for the screams to turn into quiet gurgling sounds. All it took was one week for the majority of humanity to turn. Not sure how it started, but this wasn’t like the movies. Not in the slightest. These “zombies” weren’t rotting, they weren’t falling apart, they weren’t slow, they didn’t eat flesh, some only bite for the purpose of spreading the disease. Some give the kiss of death erasing what humanity you had. The mindless creatures were pale green with irritated red under their eyes, some had thick vines creeping painfully out of the mouth, nose, eyes, or all three. A truly horrific sight.

“Unsure meetings”

Running through the trashed streets of Gotham you panic. Your warm breath being seen in the winter gray air. Hoots and hollers getting closer behind you. Your legs feel number and number by the minute. How long have you been running? How far could the adrenaline take you? You felt yourself slowing down. Up ahead were boxes, barrels, and stakes made of different materials. A normal thing to see in the streets these days. However, usually these places were abandoned. You wished you could get rid of these guys on the stakes but they were human. Somewhat smarter than the mindless creatures. “Come on pretty lady! We just wanna talk!” One of them cooed loudly while others laughed and encouraged. Zipping between barrels and other things you make your way. A scream cut through the air making you look back. You see one of the guys bleeding, nails embedded in his face and whole left side. It was a sucking sight, torn flesh, the nails contorting his face. The other men were trying to console him, stupidly pulling the nails out of his face. Looking back was your worst possible mistake. Your ankle caught some thick rope making you fall. It was so quick the sound of crunching didn’t even seem real. Your eyes watered, heart pounding, your arm felt…numb. Swallowing the fear you turn your head to a horrific sight that makes you shriek in horror. The pain was extreme as it all suddenly came rushing to you. Bloods leaked from your bear trapped arm. Unfortunately the group of men hadn’t forgotten about you. They all started approaching.

In a hurry you tried prying off the bear trap to no avail. After all, bear traps required two hands instead of one. “Well well well, looks like our little lady got stuck.” One of them taunted. “Well, looks like we don’t have to catch er’ now.” Another said laughing. Quickly you pulled out your knife pointing it at them. You hated that you shook. They could see the fear. “Oh sweetie. No need for that, let just say we’re a couple of guys that need a- a little affection.” In response you cursed at them. “Back off!” You yelled. “No need for that little lady.” One of them kicks the bear trap causing you to drop the knife and shriek in pain. In a single moment they had you pinned to the ground, your face on the cold dirty asphalt. You scream at them, and cry desperately for help. The men talked among themselves. “It’s not like she needs both. We could just cut it off.” Another interjected “we could just take off the bear trap dummy.” Another one huffed “but if we cut her hand off she’ll be less of a fighter.” They all agreed your eyes watered as you pleaded. “Pl-please don’t!” They only laughed. The one on top of you pulled out a knife. “This might hurt little lady.” You squeeze your eyes shut, the blade touches your skin but nothing more. A weird silence followed. Something warm dripped on your face. Opening your eyes you see the man above you. Red leaking from his throat. A blade covered in blood stabbed through his jugular. The man gurgled but was quickly thrown to the side taking the wait off of you. “Walter!” One of the men screamed. “You gonna pay for that!” Trying to get away from the commotion you crawl away as far as you could and sit up. Just before you was a bloody scene. A larger man was in a bloody battle with these guys. Blood was everywhere. Using skill and accuracy he sliced and stabbed to kill. They got a few hits on him but it did little to nothing. Within a few moments of agonized screams the winter air fell quiet. Zombies you could handle, this- this was true horror. Living in Gotham before all this was pretty dangerous but this was one of the most violent things you had seen personally.

You attention strayed away from the dead bodies to the approaching figure. “No- please! Don’t hurt me! I- I’ll leave! I swear!” You plead. The man crouched down. “Stop.” He demanded abruptly. Being quiet you take note of a few things. This huge man was wearing plated armor that had some sort of red symbol on the Breast plates, wearing a brown leather jacket over it, he had some waist holsters obviously for guns and a knife sheath. Leaning down you could see he wore a red handkerchief over the bottom of his face. his eyes. One green the other blue Strangely soft and a scar between his thick eyebrows. He took a hold of the bear trap. “Hold your breath.” He ordered and you comply. The sound of straining metal claws was a relief and painful. The exhale was sharp and the inhale quick. The man put a hand over you mouth muffling the screams of agony. The trap clamping on hurt just as much as coming off. Tears streamed down wetting you flushed cheeks. “You’re alright. You’ll be fine. Come on.” Taking a hold of your upper back the stranger lifted you up and started taking you to a building. He looked around, aware of the sound of the infected getting worked up. “Need to get off the street.” He said aloud more to himself than you. “I’ll take care of you.” He assured you.

Part two starts here

The building he took you inside was cold, quiet, and for obvious reasons empty. Looking around it looked like a business building, a front desk, spinning chairs, and pictures with golden colored trim. “Take a seat.” He demanded pointing to a dust covered chair. The pain was…awful. You still hiss and whimper when trying to get comfortable. Looking down at it almost made you want to throw up. Holes in the flesh bleeding, bruised, swollen. How much blood did you lose? As if on cue you start feeling dizzy. “Uh- s-sir, i…think I’m gonna… pass out.” Your hearing felt like it started cutting out, you felt so sweaty and hot, the world began to spin in circles as you felt your head get heavy bobbing side to side. “Oh you are not.” A muffled voice responded. You felt a pair of hands taking me somewhere. The sensation of a flat surface pressing on your back could be felt. Your legs felt like they were resting higher than then the rest of your body. A dull pain radiates from your arm as you feel a hand lift it up. Oddly enough it was all so funny.

Jason’s POV

The woman in the floor started laughing. “That’s not good.” I say to myself. Good thing I’m trained for this kind of thing. I take her hand holding it straight up keeping it above her heart. One thing I’ve been grateful for is how well Batman taught me to prepare and then some. Opening the med-kit scanning the items I find some cloth and hold it tight to her arm. Two places were injured and I could hold both. Lightly tapping the woman’s face I get her attention. “Hey, hey. Can you hear me?” She laughed a smile. “Yea I can hear you.” At least she’s still conscious. “I need you to do me a favor if you can. Can you lift up your other arm?” She looks over at her arm, lifting the shaking hand in front of her face. “Y-yea.” She said look at her hand with a lopsided grin. “I need you to hold something for me. Think you can do that?” She nods her head. Guiding her hand I have her hold another cloth to the other puncture wound. She couldn’t hold it too tight but it would at least give me something time.

While she held the wound nibbling about something I took the small tablet from the med-kit to x-ray the damage. Solar powered recharged every other day. I thought about it. Probably need to give her something to drink if I can, and keep her talking and away. “So, what’s your name?” I ask her. She looks at me with a funny face. “You want to know my name?” She slurred out. “Yea, I’d love to know your name. Do you have one?” Of course she had one I knew but I was trying to keep things light as I scanned the wound. “Of course I have a silly. Everyone does. It’s (y/n). What about you?” She asked. “I’m Jason.” The scan completed. Luckily she only had some blood loss and treatable muscle damage. No major arteries hit. She had no idea how lucky she was. “Jason…I like it. It’s very cute.” That fought me off guard for a moment. “Uh, thanks.” I start getting to work on the first part of her arm. I’ve patched myself up numerous times that this was easy.

As soon as I finished that one I gently moved her hand. “So, what drinks do you like? Have a favorite?” I asked to keep her talking. She seems to be slowly coming down from the dizziness. “I like soda.” She said her eyes were watering. Stealing a glance I see it. “Are you starting to hurt?” She nods with a sob. “Okay, that’s a good sign.” I mumbled to myself. Looking back in the med-kit I grabbed a small juice box. “Here, drink this you’ll start to feel better. Take it slow.” She did just that, siping through the straw. Finishing up the other abrasion on her arm I wrap it up to finish. She needs to keep it over her heart for now stills just like a broken bone. Putting it in a sling I gently lifted her head wrapping the sling strap around her neck. Even though I was as gentle as possible she still whined in pain as I shifted her arm into the sleeve. “I know it hurts. It’s alright. Let’s get you some medicine. Let try and sit up.” I help her sit up. She sits there for a moment as I keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t just go back down. When I was sure she was fine I took some ibuprofen and gave it to her. “Here.” She opened her mouth and I popped it in. You’re alright. You’ll start feeling a little better. Hopefully soon.”

Your POV

Yes. The pain was intense but your hearing was back, the world felt like it wasn’t spinning anymore, and you were taken care of. You look at Jason whose gaze was still on you. “Thank you.” He nodded. “You’re welcome. So, how long were you running from those filthy hellions?” She thinks for a moment. “I don’t really know but it was a long time.” He then pulled down the red bandana that covered his face. He has a strong jawline, a scar from his chin passed his lip up to his cheek, and the other smaller one on his cheek. He had a beard that was decently grown. For two years it wasn’t long so he must shave sometimes. He smirked. “You good?” You look away a little embarrassed. “Sorry.” He laughed a little. “It’s fine. How are you feeling now?” Sighing you answer “better than it did a minute ago.” I said with a smile.

He nodded. “Listen, I want you to stay so I can take care of you but, I have something I have to do, I know you won’t like it but I promise I won’t hurt you.” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What is it.” Talking a breath he answers seriously. “I’ll need to check you for bites. I’m going to have to see under the clothes.” You feel your heart jump in your chest. “A-after what I just went through? After what those men intended to use me for?!” Feeling a since of panic and anger. He shakes his head. “Listen, I get it. I know I’m sorry, but I have people I have to take care of. A friend and his little girl. I can’t lose them. If something happed to them I’d never forgive myself.” He seems genuine. He seem like he really is telling you the truth. “I won’t have to touch you and no, I can’t just trust your word. Been lied to too much. Can’t take the risk.I just need to take a good look for bites. I promise no touching required.” Taking everything into consideration you agreed. He did help you and he is just looking out for his group. “Okay, what do you need to see?” You inquire. “I already saw one arm, I need to see the other, your torso and legs including feet.” With a sigh you get up with a bit of the grunt while he stayed on the ground. “I can’t lift my other sleeve.” You say realizing yo I can’t actually use your other hand. “Are you asking for help?” You nod. He lifts your sleeve and examined your arm all round lifting it and taking a good look. “I need to see your shoulder. May I have a look?” He asked. You nodded again. He moved the collar of your shirt a little and inspected your shoulder and neck. “Okay, that’s all good.” He backed away. Lifting your shirt you showed the skin underneath. It felt embarrassing but he didn’t look at you in a lot way or make you feel uncomfortable. “Slowly spin.” Doing what he asked you do a 360. “Okay that’s good.” You lean down and take off your shoes and socks showing him your feet. He nodded letting you know you were good. Pulling your sweats up to you knees he takes a good look. “Okay.” Wriggling your sweats down to show your thighs and hips he nods. “Okay, I’ll take you upstairs and well have dinner with the rest of the crew. You successfully put your socks on but started to struggle tying shoe. “Can I have os help?” He leans down and helps put your shoes on and tie them while you sad up looking at him. You realized he had a white streak in his black curly hair that was half up. “How’d that happen?” You asked. “Mm, long story.” Standing up he took your good hand and pulled you up. “Let’s go.”

Going up the stairs he kept close by as if to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt or fall. The walk was long, especially after all the excitement you lived through. On the fifth floor is where we exited the stairwell. The whole floor was covered in a bunch of offices. “This way.” His voice was quiet. Finally you both made it to a large office room. “Jason!” A small light voice called in excitement. A little girl suddenly jumped into Jason’s arms. He pulled her into a tight hug. “Hey, sunshine.” He said tenderly with a smile. The little girl looked at you. She had black hair, beautiful green eyes, a paler tone. “Who’s that?” She asked. “This is our new friend. She was hurt really badly. Someone has to take care of her. How about you show he to the food.” She nods. “Where’s your dad?” He asked her. “He’s talking to Dick on the radio.” Jason hummed then whispered something in her ear. With that she giggled and took your hand. “Come on!” Leading you to the corner of the room there was a small contained fire with a pot of stew. She made a bowl and gave it to you. “Here.” With a smile you take it. “So, what’s your name?” You ask taking a bite of the warm stew. “I’m Lian. Harper!” She stuck her hand out to greet. Putting the spoon down you shake hers. “I’m (y/n).” You and the Lian kept each other good company. Jason must have gone and talked to this Roy guy. You were grateful that Jason saved you. You were glad he was there and that he was willing to give you a safe space to be.

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kawaii-angelanne · 1 year

Text

TW/CW: nudity of minors (not sexual!), all characters (except the teacher) are in high school

KEY TAGS: spoiler-free/pre-canon, female reader (afab and themes of womanhood), second pov (reader's pov), meet-cute, fluff, strangers to ???

WORD COUNT: 6202

CROSS POST: ao3

OPENING NOTE: thanks for clicking on this! please do not repost, copy, modify, or overall plagiarize this work anywhere else please. plagiarism is never acceptable, both in mla 8 format and in fanfiction! for translations, message me, and we can talk about it! reblogs, comments, and likes are super appreciated :>

SUMMARY: "'So…' you trail off, shutting the door behind you, 'How should I do this? Do you have a certain pose in mind or…?'

The blue-haired painter (painter-in-training?) turns to you, 'Well, in order to start, it would be best if you began taking off your clothes.'

'E-excuse me!?'"

Or where Kitagawa Yusuke needs a nude model, and you unknowingly sign up.

“Why don’t you just get a job?” your friend, Yanai Toshiko, points out the most obvious solution to your money problem while chewing in one side of her mouth, “It’s pretty easy these days. All you have to do is take a magazine from the job stand in Shibuya Station, look for a job that interests you, and call them up.”

“Right, and,” your other friend, Akagawa Yokkako, takes a moment to swallow her food before continuing, “if you tell them you’re a Kosei High student, they will most definitely hire you.”

“But that’s so much work!” you groan loudly, burying your head in your arms on the table and then lifting your head up high enough to be able to see your friends, “Besides, my brother’s birthday is in a week. I wouldn’t get the money in time even if I got the job.”

“That’s your fault for leaving it to the last minute,” Yanai clicks open the next tier in her bento box, “I don’t understand how you’re still at Kosei with all your procrastination.”

You perk up at this, “Uh, just because I don’t do my work weeks ahead of time like everyone else here doesn’t mean I don’t do well, thank you very much.”

“What’re you even getting your brother that costs so much anyways?” Yokkako finishes the last of the bun she bought from the school store, crumpling the transparent wrapper in between her hands.

“Limited-edition action figure set of this anime he watches,” you drag your chopsticks absentmindedly across your school lunch, depressed from just remembering the price tag.

Yanai admires her octopus hotdogs, her chopsticks holding one in midair, before eating it whole, “Can’t you get him, like, crayons or something?”

You stop swiveling your chopsticks across the pile of rice on your tray at her suggestion, “He’s not six. He’s turning twelve!”

“What’s the difference?” Yokkako snickers behind her hand, earning one smack on the shoulder from you.

“Seriously, guys,” you now resort to hopelessly picking up singular grains of rice with your chopstick, “Do any of you know how I can get cash quick and easy?”

“Well—”

“And legally.”

Yokkako wilters at the last part, her eagerness to tell you to be a cam girl or start selling drugs vanishing in a flash. While she isn’t involved in stuff like that, you knew she would suggest such a thing anyways, which would have annoyed you more.

Yanai nimbles on her chopsticks in thought, “Y’know, on my way to the teacher’s office—I had to drop something off—, I overheard one of the art students asking around for a model. He said he was willing to pay in cash.”

“Really!?” you straighten up from your slumped position, eyes sparkling at the prospect of possibly getting enough money for your brother, “Who? Do you know how much he’s paying? Did anyone say yes?”

“Hmm,” Yanai places her chopsticks down, “I only heard his voice, so I don’t know who he is, sorry. I didn’t stick around long enough to hear everything, so...”

“Ask one of the art teachers!” Yokkako chirps up, “They might know who it is. I think their office is on the…third floor?”

You turn to Yanai for an answer, who nods silently as she focuses on packing up her lunch, and, with her confirmation, you immediately stand up from your chair, “I’m going to go now then! Can’t have anyone taking my precious money! I’ll see you guys later!”

Dashing off, you try not to bump into unsuspecting students, spitting sorries when you do. You’re going to find this art student no matter what!

“Oh, right, I heard Kitagawa asking one of my other students to be his model yesterday,” the first art teacher you encountered answers, “She said she was too busy.”

Still catching your breath from sprinting up three flights of stairs, you stare blankly at her. Her answer as to who was asking for a model was hardly an answer. For all you know, there could be tens of Kitagawas in this school (it would be funny if they were all in the same art class too). Also, why did she talk more about the person he asked? She isn’t your main concern.

She returns to her work, so you press the subject further, “Kitagawa…?”

“You don’t know?” she makes the effort to turn her chair to face you completely, “Kitagawa Yusuke? He’s one of Madarame’s students.”

“Who?”

“Madarame, the artist?”

When you shake your head, she gapes at you but immediately pulls herself together, “Never mind. What do you need Kitagawa for anyways?”

“I was hoping to ask him if I could be his model,” you don’t bother to explain all the itty bitty details about how you desperately need the cash; she doesn’t need to know that.

The teacher squints at the grid paper taped on the wall in front of her, “I have him next, so I can ask for you. I’ll email you what he says. What’s your name? Include your first name as well, so I know what email to use.”

After telling her your name, she writes it down on a blank notepad, and you thank her for the help before leaving. At least you don’t have to track down this Kitagawa Yusuke.

You slide the door open and then close. Checking your watch, you yelp at the time. Class on the fifth floor is starting in three minutes, and you don’t even have your bag!

“Crap, crap, crap!” you repeat under your breath and push your legs to move faster, brisk walk accelerating to a full-out run.

As you make an abrupt turn around the corner to the downstairs, you harshly crash into someone. You shut your eyes, groaning when you make contact with the ground. Still reeling from the fall, you see the obstacle you bumped into, who is somehow gracefully sitting upon the linoleum floor.

“Pretty boy…” the words flow out of your mouth without a second thought, and your hand slaps itself over your mouth.

But really, is there anyone who wouldn’t have the same reaction? Navy blue hair framing the boy’s cheeks so perfectly and shining like it belongs in a shampoo commercial. The lack of blazer all students have to wear with their uniform revealing his lissome frame. The longest eyelashes you’ve ever seen. The most luscious lips—.

“Are you okay?”

At his words, you cease your shameless ogling, “Y-yes! S-sorry, are you okay? I should have been watching where I was going!”

“I’m quite alright, thank you,” he gets up from the floor, brushing one stray hair away from his face, “Do be careful though. It would not be safe to bump into anyone else like that.”

Before you can retort, you remember why you were in such a rush earlier and rise to your feet, “Oh god, I’m really going to be late now! Again, sorry, but gotta blast!”

You abandon him and take off at the same speed as before. Screw getting your bag; you can just ask Yukkako for paper and a pencil.

Your mind races back to the slender guy you bumped into as you scurry up the stairs. You’ve never met him before. However, you don’t think your paths will cross any time soon. It’s been a month since school started, but you haven’t seen him in any of your classes. Besides, he’s too…graceful. And pretty! Definitely not your crowd.

The bell rings once you reach the fifth floor, and you frantically scramble to the classroom door. You practically fall through the back door. Somehow, no one but Yukkako notices your tumble in and waves her hand rapidly. The teacher strides in the front door the moment you sit down, and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

The moment you step foot in your dorm room, you toss your bag to a corner of the room and launch yourself into the comfort of your bed. Thank god your roommate isn’t here right now. As always, a day spent at the illustrious Kosei High deserves a nap.

Too exhausted to take off your uniform, you snuggle on the top of your bed (also too exhausted to get inside the blankets). Closing your eyes, you feel yourself hazing out of reality and into the wondrous land of slumber.

Ding!

Your eyes snap open, tranquility gone and irritation kicked in. When you reach down into one of your pockets, you pull out the rectangular device. The brightness burns, and you don’t hesitate to lower it.

When you read the subject, “Art Model Information”, you sit up from your bed like a vampire from their coffin. Unlocking your phone, you hastily scan the message.

“‘I asked Kitagawa…need to go to Madarame’s studio tomorrow…might let you model!?’ I’m not even hired!?”

You almost throw the phone down on the mattress out of frustration, sleep disturbed for this. You have to travel to his place and aren’t even guaranteed the job? What if you travel for nothing? That would be a waste of a good subway fee!

To calm yourself, you take a deep breath and release it with most of your annoyance. There aren’t any better options, so what choice do you have?

Scrolling down the email, you find the address of this “Madarame’s studio”—you still don’t know who Madarame is—and copy it to paste into your navigation app.

Your finger repeatedly jams the doorbell as you cower underneath the veranda too small to properly cover anyone. Even though the forecast reported no rain, it began to downpour mere minutes ago with no relent in sight. Fortunately, you had a jacket to drape over your head, but it’s not going to hold for much longer at this rate.

“Oh, come on, answer the door already!” you whine.

You pressed the button just once when you first arrived, but, the longer you went on without a response, the more fervent your pressing became. Maybe you should be more patient. However, how good would a drenched model be? You need to get in soon, or else.

Before you resort to holding down the buzzer, a voice slices through the heavy rainfall, “Who is it? If it’s Sensei you want, he’s not here.”

You pause briefly at the strange familiarity of the voice before answering, “Hi, I’m from Kosei High! I don’t know her name, but one of your teachers told you about me? It’s raining pretty heavy out here, so, if you could let me in, that’d be great!”

“One moment.”

The transceiver disconnects. Footsteps approach behind the door, and the voice’s speaker unlocks it. You can’t help but gasp when the door opens to reveal who was talking to you.

The pretty boy you bumped into yesterday!

“It’s you!”

“It’s you…”

You’re too stunned to move, despite the rain pouring (partially) on you. So, this is Kitagawa Yusuke? You even said yesterday that your paths wouldn’t cross any time soon! What’re the odds?!

“...Will you be coming inside or…?” Pretty Boy, now identified as Kitagawa Yusuke, raises an elegant brow while stepping to the side to let you through.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry!” you step inside and take off the jacket on your head, “I just didn’t think that you’re Kitagawa! Crazy coincidence, right?”

“Indeed, this truly is a trick of fate…”

“‘Trick?’”

What did he mean by that?

Kitagawa doesn’t answer you and immediately begins to circle around you. He mumbles to himself, too incoherent for you to understand. The longer this goes on, the antsier you get. It’s as if you’re being picked apart with his eyes punctuated by those sharp lashes.

It’s not exactly the most comfortable experience.

Before you can ask him if something is wrong, he returns in front of you, done observing you like an abstract work of art, “I suppose you will do for now. Normally, I would try to find a more inspiring subject, but I cannot afford to on such time constraints. Do not worry about taking your shoes off, and, please, follow me.”

Your eye twitches at his slightly objectifying attitude, but you follow him anyway. Before leaving, though, you wring out your soaked jacket directly over the poor excuse of a doormat. Seeing the water permeate fills you with mischievous satisfaction. Seeing how far away he was, you run over to catch up.

It doesn’t take long for you two to enter a small studio room. Towards the backend of the room there’s a window to let natural light in. However, there isn’t exactly a lot of “natural light” shining through due to the storm. The ceiling light seems to provide just enough lighting, some darkness accumulating in the corner.

Various painting and sketching supplies are shelved in the back of the room as well. Three stools are pushed to the side. One stool sits in the middle, and an easel without its canvas in front of it.

Kitagawa goes ahead of you to set up, and you stand awkwardly by the doorway with your jacket over your arms.

“So…” you trail off, shutting the door behind you, “How should I do this? Do you have a certain pose in mind or…?”

The blue-haired painter (painter-in-training?) turns to you, “Well, in order to start, it would be best if you began taking off your clothes.”

“E-excuse me!?” you almost drop the jacket onto the wooden floor from pure shock.

No…is this a nude modeling gig!? Even though themes of nudity happen to make up a majority of famous paintings, you never even considered this would be the case. You’re also a high school student, just like him! Is this even legal?

“Were you unaware that you would be modeling nude?” he strokes his chin, clearly confused, “I made sure to specify that to the teacher though…”

You gulp. Maybe you should have read the email entirely…

“You are more than welcome to leave if you do not wish to do this anymore,” Kitagawa already makes moves to clear up shop, disappointed and…annoyed(?) at this turn of events, “However, if it comforts you, I have absolutely no interest in your naked figure. I am purely doing this for art. I assure you I have no ulterior motives other than painting another piece of work for Sensei.”

“Uh, w-well,” you fidget about, not completely unswayed by his words (even though you should be!), “h-how much will you be paying?”

“Did the teacher not tell you that either?” his brows furrow even more (you really should have read the email entirely), “It might not be much, but, when we finish, I will pay you about one hundred and fifty thousand yen.”

One hundred and fifty thousand!? That would cover your brother’s birthday gift and still leave you some cash to spend! All of that for modeling? Granted, you’ll be naked, but it would totally be worth it!

Wait. Jeez, are you really that desperate for money that you’ll strip for some guy you just met? …No, no, that isn’t the case here! You’re contributing to the art world! So what if you’re in the nude? If this painting is a hit, you’ll be famous, have money, and make your brother happy for this birthday. Well, secretly famous. You don’t want this spreading around, especially to your parents.

“I’ll do it,” you declare despite your heart beating wildly at what you’re committing to, “B-but on one condition! I won’t be officially associated with this. I don’t want people to know that you painted me…naked. So, I don’t want to see my name anywhere near this, got it?!”

“You have my word, thank you,” he softens his curt tone in gratitude, and his lips even curve into a small, pleasant smile.

Your heart stutters for a moment at the unexpected nicety. While Kitagawa hasn’t been outright scornful, you couldn’t help but feel iced out at first.

“Do not mind me as you undress,” his back faces you out of consideration, “I will prepare in the meanwhile. Let me know when you are ready.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Even though his back is already turned to you, you turn your back to him as well for added protection. Well, it would only be your rear side instead of your front side he would see if he turned around (if he does, you’re leaving without a second thought!). When getting ready for today, you opted for a comfortable but still nice outfit rather than your uniform. Had you known you would be modeling naked, you would have just come in sweatpants and a hoodie.

Sitting on the stool, you first remove your shoes. You strip out of your clothes one by one, stacking them into a messy pile on the stool closest to you. Your hands pause at your undergarments. As the room’s chill travels across your skin, goosebumps prickle your skin.

You take a deep breath.

One.

Two.

Three!

You unclasp your bra.

Another deep breath.

One.

Two.

Three!

You push down your underwear.

Adding the two articles to the unorganized mountain of clothes, which had somehow not collapsed yet, you turn around to face Kitagawa. Your hands wrap around your torso, insecurity trickling in like water from a sōzu. Now that you’re actually naked, you don’t feel as confident as you did before when you agreed.

Still, you don’t want to back out now, not after you’ve gone through the process of taking off your clothes. Ugh, you better like that gift, Hanzu!

“Is everything all right?” Kitagawa asks, back still to you.

“Y-yep!” you breathe deeply again to steel your nerves, “I-I’m all ready now!”

He turns around, seeing your naked body for the first time. Despite that, his insouciant expression doesn’t change. He merely clutches his chin between his fingers again; you could almost see the cogwheels turning inside his mind. His ever-observant gaze causes you to cover yourself up even more, your hands sliding up more and legs gradually crossing over each other.

“Stop right there,” he commands with such purpose it freezes you into submission, “This heightened vulnerability and bareness… It perfectly encapsulates both innocence and womanhood at the same time! To think that you would be able to deliver such a concept… Yes, I can work with this. How foolish of me to doubt fate earlier.”

“Th-thanks?” you’re not sure whether you should be pleased or creeped out or if that even sounded like you.

“Please, remain still for now,” he sits at the easel, pencil in hand.

“Sure thing…” you search for an interesting crack in the wall to distract yourself with. With the state of the place, there are plenty of cracks to choose from, which means plenty of story material.

You’re unsure how much time has passed. All has been quiet save for your breathing and Kitagawa’s sketching. Since the session started, you’ve gotten more comfortable. Not completely, but definitely better than before!

However, you now face a new dilemma.

As you learned in psychology class, your brain requires stimulation. When it’s not getting stimulated, like right now, the urge to do something eats away at you like an annoying parasite. And it’s definitely not helping that you’ve been standing the entire time! But Kitagawa told you to stay still. You may have just met him today, but you feel that disobeying an artist’s orders, especially one as passionate as Kitagawa—that’s the impression you get anyway—is just as bad as waking a sleepwalker.

If you can’t move your body, you can at least move something else.

“So, how’s the drawing going?”

His hand falters in the line he was sketching out. With a sigh, he quickly erases it before redrawing. You quietly wince, not intending to irritate him. Maybe you should have realized that talking to him would have snapped him out of his artistic mojo.

He continues to sketch your figure, eyes flickering to you and then the canvas. The silence is even louder, and you’re too ashamed to ask again. Is there perhaps another crack you already didn’t make a story for?

“The sketch is almost finished,” he finally speaks, and you almost relax completely at an answer despite not wearing any clothes, “Sorry, I understand modeling for a painting can be difficult. Would you like to take a short break? I completed the part I was working on and can afford to pause now.”

A break? You thought he would reprimand you for speaking, but that was oddly considerate of him. Well, not like he hasn’t been, but…

“How close are you to finishing? Because, if it’s not too long, then I can handle it.”

He surveys his drawing, “Fifteen minutes should be sufficient enough.”

“Then we can continue, no worries,” you adjust your position to its original state.

“You have my thanks,” he nods and even flashes a gentle smile before resuming the sketch.

After a few more soft pencil scratchings and a few more riveting narratives of the Cracken terrorizing the town with no end in sight, Kitagawa picks up the small, deformed eraser and rubs it strongly against the canvas. His effaces become more and more frequent until he slumps over completely. Despair and hopelessness radiates from him.

“Uh, Kitagawa? Everything all right?” you make it your best effort to not move while also straining to get a better look at him from behind the easel.

“Something’s not right,” he lifts only his head to meet your eyes, “For some unknown reason, I cannot properly draw this last piece. Perhaps it’s the angle of your legs? Or maybe your arms?”

“I swear I didn’t move at all! Not even an inch!” you prepare yourself for a scolding, even though you are one hundred percent certain you didn’t move your legs at all no matter how badly you wanted to.

“I never said you did,” his expression shows no irritation, but his words still cut into you like the crack in the wall, “Allow me to think on this for a moment.”

Mumbling unintelligibly to himself, he pinches his chin between his fingers as his eyes scrutinize you once more like they had in the beginning. You immediately avert your gaze to the other side of the wall. Is it like an artist thing, or does he have this innate ability to pick you apart with his eyes alone?

“That’s it!” he sits up again with such a fervency it almost inspires you to do the same, “Please cross your left leg thirty degrees more inward.”

“D-degrees?”

With hesitant estimation—what exactly is thirty degrees?—you slowly slide your left leg.

“No, apologies, I meant your right leg.”

At his new orders, you, silent and compliant, move your right leg back to where it was originally and repeat what you did earlier to your left leg this time.

“A bit more, please, and point your right foot as well.”

You struggle to maintain your balance at the new position. Praying he doesn't make you do this for much longer, you attempt to keep the shaking to a minimum.

He tuts his disapproval, and your obedience slowly transitions into annoyance.

“Could you curve your foot a little more?”

“Please lower your right leg a little.”

“...Try moving your left leg outward.”

“No, move it back.”

“Why don’t you just do it for me then!?” you practically yell out, frustrated from having to adjust your already-sore limbs every second.

“Good idea, it would save us precious time,” he stands up straight from his seat with such poise and grace, it sends shivers down your spine.

“W-wait a minute, you’re coming over here?” your arms hug you tighter as an unsettling realization crawls on your back.

Not only is Kitagawa going to be extremely up close and personal, but he’s also going to put his hands all over your arms and legs and bend them at impossible angles!

He pauses in his steps with confusion scrawled all over his features, “Yes? Is that not what you asked?”

“W-well, it is, but…but I’m naked!” you state as if it’s the obvious reason (because it is the obvious reason).

“But you have been for the past hour or so,” he raises an eyebrow in even deeper confusion, “What makes now so different?”

“I’m naked,” you strongly emphasize the word “naked” as if Kitagawa somehow did not see an issue in the concept, “I don’t know about you, Kitagawa, but I am not comfortable with you putting your grubby mitts on me as you spread my legs and whatnot. It’s already enough that I’m modeling naked for you!”

“Spread your legs? Why would I ever—?” he stops mid-sentence, finally understanding what you were trying to get at, and his pale cheeks flush red, as if dragged from the center to the red side of the color wheel, “O-oh, I-I see…”

With a clearing of his throat, he continues, “My apologies for being so oblivious to your concerns. However, you currently seem to be incapable of properly executing what I envision for this painting. What to do…?”

Ain’t no way is he touching you! There has to be another way!

“M-maybe!” you interject before he decides that A) you’re not a fit model for him anymore and thus denied the pay you were promised or B) there is no other choice but for him to treat you as if you are nothing more than a wooden lay figure, “Maybe you can…pose like how you want me to? And then I can…mirror it? Yeah? How’s that?”

He stares blankly at you, and, as if a three-second timer went off, he livens back up, “What a splendid idea! Please do your best to imitate me.”

After adjusting his stance to better match yours, he first, as asked of you before, moves his left leg slightly higher to the crux where his legs crossed over. Oh, so that’s what thirty degrees are. Then, with a shift of his torso, he freezes with his eyes intently on you, silently commanding you to imitate him. You immediately follow suit, dumbfounded at how easy it was to copy him when you had failed multiple times.

“Perfect, now please stay like that for just a moment more,” he returns to his stool behind the canvas, pencil already in hand.

You sigh with relief, having successfully escaped any more torment, and focus back on doing what you were hired to do.

This time, instead of continuing to mentally write fanfiction between the crack on the left side of the wall and the crack on the right side of the wall—a true Shakespearean tragedy split by the great schism in the middle—, you find yourself staring at Kitagawa. Since you’re barely a meter away from him, you can see him up close for much longer than yesterday.

He’s so focused. His dark-blue eyes would unblinkingly scan across the canvas as his pencil dragged across the surface. Somehow, a mere glimpse to you can provide enough material to last him minutes of drawing. While his extremely hunched-over posture is left to be desired, his zeal clearly shows with how much he’s leaning in. Any further, and his nose would be touching the canvas!

You also take the time to comment (mentally, of course) on the strange seventy-thirty hair split he has going on. When it comes to parting hair, most go for a twenty-eighty or thirty-seventy split. However, he went the other way and managed to make it look as charming as ever. Even now, side parts aren’t the latest in style, but anyone who saw him would strongly disagree. Somehow, the right side of his hair perfectly frames his cheek. Yes, he has to push a strand or two out of the way every now and then. But, for the majority, it stays perfectly still, coiffed with enough curvature to not appear so limp.

Urgh, he’s a pretty boy in every sense of the word!

After some back and forth from behind the easel to you, the saccades shorter and shorter each time, his eyes then shift to your own. At the sudden eye contact, you flinch, caught red-handed.

“Is something the matter? You’ve been staring at me for quite some time,” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“O-oh, it’s nothing!” you laugh awkwardly, trying to act as if you weren’t staring at him for the past couple of minutes, “I-I was just zoning out, haha! Don’t mind me!”

He accepts your excuse without a second thought (is he really that gullible?), “Well, I am just about done with the sketch. All that is left is to paint it. I greatly appreciate your service and—.”

“Ooo! Can I see?” you jump up from the wooden stool and bounce over to see what he was drawing for the past hour.

Kitagawa immediately stiffens at your close proximity, but you’re too enraptured with what’s before you.

When people meet you, there are some words that easily come to mind: rambunctious, tomboyish, immature, incorrigible. However, you don’t see any hint of that in Kitagawa's depiction of you. You see exactly what he raved about earlier: vulnerability, innocence, and womanhood. How was he able to illustrate you in such a way so different from how most characterize you despite only formally meeting you today?

You also can’t imagine how striking the painting will be when finished. Will he use pop, bright colors to imply your teenage youth? Or will he use muted mature shades to highlight a sense of coming-of-age?

A stammered yelp of your last name draws you back into reality.

“Sorry, sorry! This is just so amazing!” you practically squeal while covering your mouth with your hands, “I can’t believe someone so talented is my age! Can I take a picture? Whoa, this is so cool!”

“I-I thank you for your kind words,” he avoids your gaze, finding the floor most intriguing, “You can take a picture. Please be sure not to post it anywhere should someone come across it and choose to plagiarize my work.”

“Got it!” you hum all happy, ego also inflated from being drawn so well and so beautifully.

Instead of answering, he fully turns his body away from you. You move to his side to find a faint dusting of pink across his nose and the top of his cheeks.

“Hey, are you feeling okay? Your face is kind of red, and—.”

“I’m f-fine,” he clears his throat and shakes his head, all while still concentrating on the weathered floor, “I-I would greatly appreciate it if you can get dressed, though, so I can pay you for your services.”

You look down at yourself, suddenly remembering that you were indeed not wearing clothes, and feel your body heat up from embarrassment, the slightly-cold draft in the room be damned. Your face is as red as a tomato, and your ears are tipped in a similar shade. Squeaking out an apology, you hastily move to the pile of clothes on the chair and fumble through putting them on, too flustered to do so calmly.

Right as you slip on the last of your shoes, you snatch your phone out of your pocket to take a quick snapshot of Kitagawa’s drawing. Up from his stool but still with his back turned to you, he busies himself with something in the furthest corner.

With the press of a button, his sketch is saved on your phone. You observe it on the digital screen, but, even then, it doesn’t even compare to the actual artwork. Well, digital copies never amount to the original anyways.

Pinching in and out of the photo to pick out the finer details, Kitagawa approaches you with a thick, money envelope in his hand, “Here is one hundred and fifty thousand yen, as previously agreed upon. I once again thank you for being my model. You truly brought the perspective I needed for this painting. Don’t worry, I intend to bring this painting the beauty it wholly deserves.”

“Oh, thanks…” your heart skips a beat at his words, moved at his dedication.

With two hands and a slight bow, you accept the money from Kitagawa, who then moves to clean up his supplies. As you stare at it in your hand, unease settles in your stomach.

Was this really going to be the last time you saw him? You don’t share any classes with him. Hell, you never even knew the guy existed until yesterday!

You can’t place your finger on why, but you want to get to know him more. Was it because of his formal speaking mannerisms? His talent? His creativity? His pretty boy appearance (you most certainly didn’t forget that)?

Clutching the envelope tightly, you stride up to Kitagawa with a surge of unknown need, “H-hey!”

Great start.

He turns around from putting his pencils away with utmost confusion, “...Is something the matter?”

“W-well,” you gulp and spit out your first coherent thought, “I-I wouldn’t mind modeling for you again!”

“...Excuse me?” he looks even more confused, and you panic on how to explain yourself.

“Wh-what I mean is,” you clear your throat to stall for time, “I-I really want to see how you paint this and make sure it’s good! It is a painting of me after all, a-and I can be there as a real-life reference! I can even model again, i-if that’s what you need!”

Stupid, of course it’s going to be good. He already drew you perfectly. Actually painting it shouldn’t prove a problem, especially since he’s taught by Madarame, who you found out last night is actually a super famous artist.

Still, despite your floundering attempts, he appears to strongly consider this proposition, “It would be extremely beneficial if I had my subject with me as I painted… However, I wouldn’t be able to pay you again. Unfortunately, I’m a little low on funds this month.”

“That’s fine!”

“Then, it’s a deal,” he takes out his own phone from his pocket, “Let’s exchange contact information, so I can message you when I begin the painting process. It will most likely be in the next day or so, so please keep your schedule open.”

You mentally do a fist pump, “All righty, do you have LINE or something? I have social media too, if that’s better.”

“I must confess I am not all that interested in what the online world has to offer,” he pulls out his phone from his back pocket, “I also don’t have any messaging apps outside of the one already on your phone, so your phone number would be best.”

Nodding, you exchange phones and open his contacts. You’re astonished at the names that flood his screen. Arita Takemi, Mihara Kurumi, Natsuhiko Nakanohara—wow, both his names start with “N!” That’s kind of cool—, Yoshihisa Haru… The list goes on and on! How does he know this many people? Or keep up with them? You don’t even think you have this many classmates!

Choosing not to ask him about it, you put in your number as a new contact. With the addition of your name, you raise his phone in the air to take a selfie of yourself (with a peace sign, obviously). Handing it back, you take your phone to find his contact only with his full name and phone number.

Well, you didn’t really expect much more than that from him.

“Hmm, it appears the rain has yet to stop,” he checks the time on his phone, “and it’s quite late. My sincere apologies for keeping you here for so long. I would walk you to the station myself, but I need to prepare for Sensei’s return.”

Surely it can’t be that late; you got here around noontime. Checking your phone as well, you quirk a brow at his definition of late.

You jam your phone back into your back pocket, “Um, it’s only a little past 5:30, Kitagawa. I’ll be okay on my own, but I appreciate the thought.”

He doesn’t look convinced and leaves the room, “At least let me get you an umbrella. I won’t be long.”

True to his word, he comes back as quickly as he left with an umbrella too big for only one person.

“Oh, thanks!” you blink at it in your hands, surprised at his offer, before back at him, “Well, I’ll be on my way now, but I’ll return it next time I see you!”

“Farewell,” he waves you off, and you do the same.

Leaving the room and out the front door, you notice how the rain isn’t coming down as hard as before. In fact, it’s such a light drizzle, using an umbrella would be superfluous. Still, you open it up before walking out from underneath the extremely narrow veranda.

Kitagawa Yusuke.

He’s so strange and perhaps a little blunt.

But he’s also far more polite than the rest of your male peers.

You put a little more pep in your step and smile with anticipation for the next time you see him, hopefully sooner rather than later.

ENDING NOTE: i present to you a project months in the making with a huge hiatus in between completion! i thought this would be ready to release to the world a month ago but. i was wrong LOL!

so, for a little context, i have always wanted to play persona 5 ever since it came out six years ago. however, i never got a ps4. THEN! p5royal got announced for switch and other devices, and i pre-ordered it almost immediately. now, it hasn’t been long since it came out, but i just finished up makoto’s palace.

playing this game also reignited my love and worship for the man that is yusuke kitagawa. the amount of screenshots and videos i took during his arc is embarrassing. then, i read a yusuke x reader oneshot at like 2 am (it’s on ao3 titled “Emperor” by deareststars! so good, the friends to lovers in me enjoyed it so much!). i sat up from my bed with such urgency at the lightning strike of inspiration and starting writing this.

this wasn’t written all in one sitting; this took about...3 months, and, with college apps, my progress was quite stifled! i originally wanted to do this sunshine, tomboyish, easygoing reader with a begrudging, “i need you to do my painting (for madarame)” yusuke. so, yes, an enemies to lovers. however, i don’t think it was that enemies. i think it was quite normal LOL. there isn’t a lot of romance in this either. i was rlly struggling on what to tag this because there isn’t romance; this is just like. the start of it all! miniseries? no…probably not LOL. right before i was going to post this, i realized i forgot to include the posing scene. my original thought was for yusuke to actually move your legs to how he desired, but i was like reader wouldn’t like that, and yusuke wouldn’t do it if reader expressed discomfort (and she did so). so. you got that teehee.

tl;dr: this was self-indulgent 101%.

#kitagawa yusuke #kitagawa yusuke x reader #yusuke x reader #yusuke fluff #yusuke oneshot #persona 5 fanfiction #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #《angel writes》#《med shot》

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ezrisdax-archive · 7 months

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Top 5 Stargate eps, comfort movies, and Canadian foods

stargate eps

Episode 200- ha bet you thought I'd say the time loop episode first but no, even this episode won out ahead. the in jokes, the jokes at other sci fis, the whole set up, the love of it all, when I have really bad days it is my comfort episode out of all comfort episodes honestly, I can't even begin to count how many times I've watched it and every time I cry when quote Issac Asimov at the end, I am a weak person lexi you know this

Window of Opportunity - okay yeah time loop was next, let's be real I am completely predictable but this was the time loop episode that really showed me how fun they could be. like I already loved the concept cause of TNGs one but this one? it's so funny, I've had people who don't even watch stargate watch that one with no context of the characters and still find it funny. and the ending is heart wrenching, what more do you want from a time loop (pst, lexi watch it with me again, now I miss it)

Abyss - I admit I loved Ba'al as a bad guy, he was so much fun for me and the episode introducing him was so weird with Jack haunted by memories not his (what do you mean I'm obsessed with that because of star trek and ezri-) and eternally whenever I chuck a shoe too far accidentally while taking them off I just think of "I just threw my shoe through you" when Jack is talking to Daniel, like c'mon that was so funny

The Fifth Race - I loooooove the introduction of the Asgard so much, not to mention Jack getting the language in his head. once again sometimes my brain just goes "there is nothing cruvus with me!" for no reason because of that episode.

Fragile Balance - I'm just a sucker for a good cloning episode okay, and Jack and the Asgard just don't miss for me! I'm a weak person lexi!!!!!

comfort movies

Star Trek: The Voyage Home - yes it's the one with the whales and time travel, two things I love specifically because of this movie probably. no lie this movie did have me really into whale conservation as a kid though, something that's stuck with me well into later years. but like it's got everything, Spock being sassy to McCoy, McCoy and Scotty off on their own adventure, chase scenes in a hospital with Chekov on the cart like it's fucking looney tunes, time travel, whales, the crew being the crew together! mcfucking love this movie

Star Wars: Return of the Jedi - be honest, you knew I'd have this here because we've talked so many times and I've said it's my fave but like...I watched this movie every day for a year as a kid. I made my dad buy back up tapes because I wore it out on VHS. to this day I still have five copies. I want you to know I don't just love this one because Wedge appears the most here. Though that doesn't hurt. It's just about the conclusion of it for me, it does something for me where it gives me hope.

Canadian Bacon - this movie isn't gonna be known to like...anyone. but me and my best friend as a kid watched this movie like every week while we were up at my cottage and it's another movie I can quote by heart. the premise is the americans decide to fake a war on canada to boost the economy though canada doesn't know and this group infiltrate canada and I'm in tears laughing every time at the line "Aboot? it's about! about! we have ways of making you pronounce the letter 'o'" also Alan Alda is there.

Robin Hood Men in Tights - this was a movie I used to watch constantly with my siblings, we loved Mel Brooks movies but this one was the top tier for us for comedy sake and occasionally in the sibling chat we'll still send in jokes about it

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse: I know you didn't love it and me having a spider related thing on here is weird but I just shut my eyes during those points and watch the rest in peace. like this movie was just magical to me, the way it handled the multi-verse and Miles' story and the art and music, it's so good and I have no words to really describe how good it is for me, I just love it.

canadian foods lmao that's so specific but is this because I'm sending you stuff soon?

All Dressed Chips, I cannot believe americans don't have this, you guys love your weird flavours on everything else and you don't have this??? it's like the everything bagel of chips, what is wrong with you guys

Ketchup Chips, I know I know that sounds like it tastes bad but no it doesn't and if you think that get taste

Beaver Tails - tragically the place that used to make them near my place closed down ages ago but I got to have a good one when I was visiting @trillscienceofficer in Alberta this year and that pastry is so good

Smarties - once again not your kind of smarties but chocolate which is NOT like m&ms we use better chocolate

Caramilk bars - while looking things up when I messaged you I found out you guys don't have those and hey??? what the fuck???

#replies in thirty minutes or they're free #counterspelling

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moosemonstrous · 6 months

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yep I misspelled Guero in the last one my bad anyway! this has to get posted or I'll never move on

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - calm waters

“What’s with the tracker?”

Robbie belatedly realises this isn’t the first time Guero asked him this question. It’s hard to hear anything with the number of people all eating, talking and moving around in the mess hall. Third shift is always the busiest for food, all three kitchen bays turning out enough trays to tile the base. Over the last week it became rather obvious that Robbie can indeed fit in twice the rations after a six hours training session, but that means he needs to make sure he doesn’t inhale it all before Gabe has finished eating. It’s your damn food. Just tell him to stop fucking around with that tablet and hurry up. It’s assigned reading. He’s been doing tons of his own reading now, that’s good, it’s good that he doesn’t need Robbie to read for him— “Sorry, what?”

Guero points his chin at the black band around Robbie’s left bicep. It’s just him joining in for dinner today, the rest of the guys unwilling to wait until he was finished with the school handover. Robbie’s pretty sure he’s trying to hit on the TA. She doesn’t seem terribly interested, but it’s not his place to point it out.

“It’s for blood pressure,” he shrugs. He’s almost forgot about it, the steady squeeze and release around his arm just part of the general static his head fills with after running suicides. He hates running. His opinion doesn’t count for much in the gym. “I’m—”

“She jumped off!” Gabe interrupts him, finger pressed hard into the tablet screen to highlight a passage. “Robbie, she jumped off the roof! I don’t want her to get hurt!”

Robbie draws a blank. Normally, he’d keep ahead of whatever Gabe is reading so he can reassure him everything will be okay down the line. This whole week, though, he’s been going out like a light the second his head hit the pillow, and he’s not even entirely sure which story this is— “Hey, buddy, it’s alright,” he reaches out to grasp Gabe’s hands as they begin to clench and unclench in distress. “You have to keep reading, yeah? I’m sure she’ll be alright; you just need to keep on reading to find out.”

Gabe squeezes his fingers until his knuckles turn white and does the three-fours breathing a few times. It seems to work, because rather than starting to fidget in his chair he reaches back for the tablet. He nods to himself, steady, before clicking the device back on.

“Don’t forget your food,” Robbie pushes the fork back into his hand. He can feel Guero’s gaze on the side of his face. “What?”

“Kid’s got a lot of feelings, huh.”

“He’s right here,” he mutters. Gabe doesn’t seem to be paying attention to anything other than his book, but it doesn’t mean he can’t hear this kind of crap. “It’s okay to get upset about a story.”

Guero frowns for a moment before he figures out the last comment wasn’t really meant for him, but Robbie’s glare definitely is. “Are you—” he glances significantly between Gabe and Robbie’s blood pressure meter.

What a dickhead. Like they’d let you into the academy if you were—“It’s just for monitoring.”

“Monitoring what?”

Aw, he’s worried you’ll weigh him down. Fucking upstart. “I don’t know, it’s not like they’re telling me anything. It’s just a lot of brain scans.”

Gabe had a turn in the magnetic scanner a couple of days ago. It was hard for him to keep still for long enough, but for all that Robbie agonised he’d unwittingly set his brother up to be a test subject right alongside him, Dr Montesi never asked him back. Cho said they were just being thorough – that Gabe’s brain was fine, considering. Robbie is still considering if it’s really worth learning all of those martial arts if he can’t use them on annoying pricks in lab coats.

Meanwhile, Guero’s face goes on a bit of a journey. “Damn. They’re really pushing you forward.”

He sounds like he’s trying to hide he’s angry about it. Robbie puts his fork down just in case. “What are you on about?”

“Is it because of your dad? They’ll really let you pilot Hell Charger?”

“What?” Last Robbie heard about it, it was Cho arguing with Stark about extracting The Charger’s Conn-Pod for further testing. Apparently a no-go. “No, it’s decommissioned. It doesn't even have a reactor.”

Guero crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ve heard the techs talk. It’s getting a refurb. You can just tell me, you know.”

“I’m not going near that thing.” Liar. He hasn’t told anyone what landed him in R&D’s clutches in the first place. Nobody said he couldn’t, not even the Colonel, but it feels like the kind of thing he should be keeping to himself. It’s bad enough that the word spread his dad was a ranger. People look at him and Gabe funny whenever their last name comes up. “Besides, they’re getting a new jaeger any day now, right?”

“Well, I don’t know. You’re the one cosying up to the strike team.”

“I’m not—”

“Forget it,” Guero waves him off. He’s so fucking jealous. Watch it, guys like that will stab you in the kidneys to get ahead. “And if you really don’t know what the tests are for, fucking ask, are you insane? There are like, reps.”

“Yǔyán,” an older woman chides them from across the table. Guero bristles.

“Mind your business,” he barks. Stops swearing, though. It’s one of those weird unspoken rules in the Shatterdome – you’re supposed to keep it civil in the support areas. This is why soldiers tend to stick to their own barracks. It’s kind of embarrassing to be told off by a cleaning technician and impossible to assert dominance with hundreds upon hundreds of other civilians surrounding her, watching.

Cho mentioned they’ve got two sociologists on staff, studying cultural development in the semi-enclosed environment of a Shatterdome. Apparently Hong Kong is particularly interesting to researchers, what with a major city only a short ferry ride away. Sometimes, Robbie wonders if the L.A. base was at all similar. It didn’t really use civilian contractors. He rarely gets to ask follow-up questions when Cho goes on a tangent, and he doubts Guero would know, or care.

“Anyway,” Guero says, still giving the woman a stink eye. “Reps. Get one.”

Yeah, sure. See how long they keep you if you start complaining. And it’s mostly just training now, anyway. There are no new tests, just repeats of the same ones. Dr Montesi wants Robbie to have another full psych eval, but with the intake of new recruits for the academy there’s a bit of a waiting list. Is it weird that he’s relieved, that he has to wait for his turn? Yep. But it’s not like a psych eval will show anything, anyway. Cho seems to be doing everything at such a breakneck pace, it’s nice to know Robbie has a schedule to follow for at least the next couple of weeks.

Funny. That’s how long until the next demon is due.

#ghost rider pacific rim au #robbie reyes #gabe reyes #guero valdez #another one where Not Much Is Happening but uh time is passing we're getting there #i wrote out a whole combat-by-words between tony and ivanov but it's Not Working so #seriously tho if something isn't working do tell me 😂#i have enough self-esteem to go around

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highlady-sorcha · 1 year

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Happy Birthday (Azriel x OC) (Mature)

Hey guys, I had a bit of a lonely birthday today, and wrote some utter filth to cheer myself up. This is complete garbage, but I thought someone might enjoy some filth between Azriel and my OC, Sorcha.

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Sorcha Nightchase was determined to skip her birthday this year. It was just depressing. After being Made, and no longer a human, what was the point of celebrating aging? Aging meant nothing now. It was just a reminder that and endless length of time stretched ahead of her, and she had no idea what to do with all the years that stared her in the face.

Feyre had drug her out of bed that morning though with a plate of muffins. A candle was stuck in the center one. By the time Sorcha gave in to Feyre’s proddings and obnoxious singing, the candle had slumped sideways and was dripping wax over the muffin next to it.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Sorcha groaned, sitting up in bed.

“Because,” Feyre said, shoving the plate of muffins into her friend’s lap.

Sorcha stared down at the plate. The candle burned so low that the sugar sprinkled across the top of the middle one started to turn brown.

“Well, blow it out.” Feyre flapped her hand in the direction of the plate as she whirled towards the window in a flurry of skirts.

Sorcha scrubbed the sleep from her eyes and blew the candle out before sitting the plate back on the bed. Her thick brown curls stood out in a bush around her head, and before she thought about it, Sorcha leaned to the nightstand, fumbling for her glasses.

Feyre wrenched the thick scarlet curtains open, flooding the room in late morning spring light. Birds twittered and the breeze that filtered in when Feyre threw the panes open was cloyingly sweet.

“Cauldron boil me..” Sorcha murmured as a frilly outfit appeared at the snap of Feyre’s fingers.

“Let’s get you dressed, I’ve got the whole day planned. You’re not going to lay around and be miserable.”

***

Azriel slowed his breathing, counting the seconds in and out. The knot of the tie at his throat felt too tight, the room too hot and the city too small.

Fancy dinners already weren’t his thing, and sitting around a table in a sweaty little restaurant across from the female he’d tear down the world for? No thanks. Maybe if she felt the same way… but she didn’t.

Az sighed and ran his hands up through his hair, destroying the careful style Mor had wrestled his short locks into.

It was one night. Only one meal that he’d have to see her and keep himself under control. Only one meal with those breasts staring him in the face, with the light glinting in her caramel eyes, that ass pulling against the fabric of her dress.

The room felt even hotter. Az groaned and braced himself against the thick marble top of the bathroom vanity.

A year. It had been a year now since Sorcha Nightchase dropped into their lives. A year since she showed up battered and bruised to Feyre’s damn art studio, and been taken in by the High Lady like a kicked puppy. Three hundred and sixty five days where he’d inhaled her sweet, honey scented, lavender laced scent. Fifty two weeks of icy showers and wrenching himself away from family gatherings before he grabbed her, ripped up her skirts and fucked her like a wild animal.

His breath was coming harder now, Azriel’s cock stirred against the tight confines of his pants.

“Cauldron boil me,” he hissed, unzipping his fly.

***

“Oh come on, you can handle another,” Feyre teased, shoving another drink into Sorcha’s hand. The bright blue liquid sloshed out of the hurricane glass as Sorcha took it. She grinned drunkenly at the high lady and shrugged.

“I am sooo fuckin drunk, but yea, what the hell.” Feyre laughed out loud and Nesta was giggling beside Azriel as she threw the straw on the table and drank the cocktail like it was a glass of water. Slamming it back down in front of her when she was finished.

“Damn Sorcha, do you take everything that well?” Cassian jeered.

Sorcha locked the general with those doe eyes of hers. The best she could, as drunk as she was. Her thickly lashed lids hung lower than they normally did, giving her a breathless, bedroom tousled look. As he’d predicted, her strapless dress hugged her figure in all the sinful ways he hated, but loved it for. The shadowsinger could barely look at her.

“Only when what I’m taking lasts for more than thirty seconds,” she shot back at Cass.

The table exploded in laughter, Cassian roared with humor, his face already a bright red from the several empty steins of beer that sat around his plate.

Az offered a tight smile as he fought for self control. Against every wish, his body responded instantly to Sorcha. And it raged against him at any mention of sex from her. Any innuendo, any whisper. Any thought.

Azriel looked away from her, out into the rest of the restaurant to distract himself. Not before he caught Rhysand’s eye. There was a knowing gleam in their dark purple depths. He grunted, pointedly ignoring the High Lord’s look.

The night drug on until Azriel was thinking about slamming his head into the table until he had a concussion for an excuse to leave. He could have sworn that as the night went on, her gaze flicked to him more and more often- whereas normally, he hardly sat in her peripheral. Sorcha’s scent seemed to grow stronger and stronger too. A restaurant should have been a safer place to be- the smell of food and sweat and so many people pressed into one space.

But the inner circle had been there so long that other patrons had gradually finished their meals and left. Az had been able to detect Sorcha’s sweet scent all night, pick out the whiff of it above all the other tangling smells. Now though, every breath he took tickled the inside of his nostrils and crept down the back of his throat and lingered there. He couldn’t escape her.

Then, she propped her face in her hand and stared directly across the table at him. Her cocktail glasses had been cleared away, and she’d stopped drinking. Too lost in the conversation to think about getting drunk. Although sober, a bright pink blush still painted the tops of her cheeks.

“And you know what I really want for my birthday?” Sorcha asked the table in general. Her eyes pinned Azriel to his seat. “I want this one to finally talk to me.” She said, her mouth twisting in a playfully cruel smile.

Cass, unlike Sorcha, had never stopped imbibing. The Illyrian laughed raucously, tipping his chair back before clapping a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. Cassian didn’t know his own strength when he was drunk. The force of it would have shattered a lesser male’s bones.

“Sorcha, you know why he doesn’t fuckin talk to you? You know why?” He laughed some more.

The rest of the table had fallen silent. Azriel was still as death itself. Nesta rested a hand on Cassian’s forearm, a silent warning.

Sorcha still had Azriel pinned in her gaze.

“Cass…” Rhys warned.

Cassian was too drunk to notice the tension that built around him. The air shifted around Az’s face as his shadows swept in like serpents of smoke, coiling around his shoulders.

“He doesn’t talk to you because he wants to fuck you!” Cassian shouted, laughing so hard tears leaked from the edges of his eyes. Still cackling, he grabbed his stomach and fell sideways out of his chair.

Nesta’s face was tense when she shot to her feet. She grabbed the general’s arm and looked over to Sorcha. “I’m sorry, he’s drunk. I’m taking him home… um, happy birthday!” Between one heartbeat and the next, Cassian and Nesta disappeared.

Azriel looked down at his hands. It had been a long time since he had felt so ashamed, embarrassed.

Once Cassian and Nesta winnowed away, to where she was surely about to hand his ass to him, the restaurant was painfully quiet. No one said anything for several minutes. Finally, Rhys cleared his throat.

“Well, Sorcha, I’m sorry that your birthday dinner ended that way.”

Sorcha shook her head, making herself busy with the fork in her hand. Suddenly, the pattern on the handle was possibly the most interesting thing in the world.

“Hey, it’s ok, he was just drunk.”

A growl rumbled in Rhys’ throat. “It’s not ok, he’s hundreds of years old and knows his limits with alcohol. He drank himself stupid tonight and ruined the meal.”

Sorcha didn’t reply at first. “I wouldn’t say he ruined the meal,” she said finally.

Azriel hesitated, but gradually lifted his gaze to Sorcha, across the table. She was leaned forward, her elbows on the table. The fork that had been so interesting earlier, she now twirled in lazy circles on the table top. Az swallowed a lump that formed suddenly in his throat. The way she sat gave him the perfect few of her full, heavy cleavage. He could feel his skin heat, his balls tightening. The shadows around his shoulders swirled faster, weaving in and around his head and arms. He could’ve sworn that hunger danced in Sorcha’s honeyed eyes, the caramel brown growing molten in their intensity.

Feyre stood from where she sat beside Sorcha. Silverware clattered when her thighs hit the table, standing so suddenly.

“Rhys, we really ought to get home to Nyx, we’ve been out a while now, and you know how Nyx likes to be tucked in at night,” the High Lady said with a nervous laugh.

Rhys opened his mouth, as if to argue before his face glazed over. Az watched the Lord and Lady argue mentally before Rhys wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin in his lap and neatly set it on his clean plate. He tilted his head smoothly in Sorcha’s direction.

“I’m afraid my mate is right, darling, we have been out much later than normal, and Nyx doesn’t like being kept waiting.”

Feyre leaned down and gave Sorcha a quick hug, the chiffon of her long midnight blue dress rustled. The High Lady pecked her on the cheek, telling Sorcha she’d see her the next morning at the studio before both of them disappeared in a wisp of night.

Only Azriel and Sorcha were left at the table. Empty dishes, smudged glasses and used silverware were their only neighbors.

Azriel was about to excuse himself, fly back to the river house and scream into his pillow when Sorcha cleared her throat.

“Is.. is that why you don’t talk to me?” She asked slowly.

Azriel met and held her gaze again. Gone was the catlike playfulness, the teasing look that had been there only moments before when Rhys and Feyre were still there.

He swallowed thickly. “Sorcha..”

“It’s ok, really. You don’t need to answer that, I shouldn’t have-“

“Yes.” Azriel said finally. His voice low and gravelly.

Sorcha’s thick eyebrows raised in surprise. Rising in a graceful arch towards her hairline.

“Hm.. well…” She said awkwardly, lapsing into silence.

At the same time, Azriel wanted to both die and dance. His shadows pooled around his ears, whispering that now was the perfect chance.

“I- I wish you’d found out differently but um,” Azriel felt like he was choking. How did Rhys and Cass do this? “I’ve… felt very strongly for you from the first time we met.”

Sorcha’s face curled into a smile, she glanced down at her lap before looking back at him.

“I like you too, Az, a lot. I’d like to fuck you too.” She said with a smile.

Azriel let an easy laugh slip out, trying to ignore the stirring in his cock. “Good to know, good to know. Would you maybe want to take a walk?” He suggested.

Sorcha’s face was absolutely feline, putting the fork she played with down. Her long nails seemed to curl like claws.

“Actually, I’d prefer to fly.”

***

Half an hour later, Azriel and Sorcha fell through the front door of her cottage. Nestled in the woods on the far edge of town, it’s simple white walls and green roof were exactly the place that Azriel wanted to be.

Sorcha panted against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, nipping at the skin there. Azriel groaned as he slammed the front door behind him hard enough that the stained glass tree in it rattled.

“Don’t break my fuckin’ door,” she said breathlessly, pulling back to look him in the face.

Azriel met her eye, his face mere inches from hers. His dark eyes glimmered in the low light from the lamps that flickered on around the sitting room. The shadowsinger snarled softly, his upper lip peeling back from his teeth. “I wouldn’t talk like that, if I were you.”

Sorcha laughed in his face, smirking at him. “Or what, bat boy?” She teased.

Heat scorched Azriel’s eyes, and he cracked a wicked smile. He lifted a hand and cradled the side of Sorcha’s face. “Because. I’ve had a damn long time to think about all the things I want to do to you, and I’m ready to do it all at once.” He growled.

Az ground his hips into Sorcha, his other hand at the small of her back, holding her in place. Her breathing hitched when she felt the length of him pressed into her stomach. She was so much bigger than she ever would’ve imagined.

She focused on his eyes, the golden night within them. And despite the shadows staring her down, she smirked right into the darkness. “Bring it on then,” Sorcha told him. Her voice dripped with challenge.

Before she could breathe, Azriel slammed her against the wall a few feet behind them. A picture fell off the wall and shattered on the floor. He ran his thumb over Sorcha’s bottom lip and rucked up her skirt with the other. The dress she wore fit her thick curves like a second skin, and in one motion her bottom half was exposed.

Sorcha gasped, and Azriel stuck his thumb in her mouth. “Suck,” he growled.

She closed her mouth around the digit as Az ran his other hand up her thigh. A low groan wrestled itself from her throat as the shadow singer’s hand grasped her ass, his other thumb hooking in her thong.

In one smooth motion, he ripped the leg of her panties and the fell to the floor beneath her. A wicked smile adorned his face as he slipped one scarred finger into her folds at the apex of her thighs. She cried around his thumb as he flicked her clit.

“That’s a good girl..” He growled, slipping another finger into her wetness. Az began to fuck her with two fingers, playing with her clit at the same time.

She wined and begged. Finally, he took his thumb out of her mouth and captured his lips with hers. He sucked and bit. Arousal coiled hotly in the bottom of Sorcha’s stomach. Her thighs twitched around the finger fucking he gave her.

Azriel broke their kiss- a long string of saliva strung between their lips. His were bright red, swollen from kissing.

“You’re going to come for me, Sorcha.” He purred. She nodded furiously, the heat mounting higher and higher.

He buried his face in her neck, nipping at the tender skin there.

“I’ve waited so fucking long for you, Sorcha,” he groaned into her supple flesh. “The first time I saw you in that art studio, you were bent over picking a pad of paper off the floor. Your thick ass was up in the air, and I wanted to just rip those gods damned pants off you and plunge my fat fucking cock in you right then and there. I wanted you bent over that damn stool, gripping the legs and begging for me to fill you up, to dump load after load of cum in that tight little pussy of yours.”

Sorcha panted, whined as the her climax neared. Her body was on fire, the world was on fire.

“Come for me, princess. Come on my fingers, then you’re going to lick it up and taste what I’ve been craving for an entire fucking year.” He snarled.

Sorcha screamed as her orgasm clanged through her, a wave crashing down and smothering everything in its path. Az still pumped his fingers inside her slick flesh, easing her through the orgasm, easing every last drop of her wetness from her.

When she was left mewling like a kitten against his lips, he pulled his fingers from the apex of her thighs and ran them over her mouth. She parted her lips and took his fingers in. The scarred skin drug across the soft skin of her tongue.

“That’s it, that’s it. Good girl. Taste what a slut you are for me.” He murmured, watching her suck her wetness from his hand. His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them. A halo of shadows swirled around his hear. Azriel was every bit the king of shadows, straight from hell that anyone outside the court believed him to be.

Sorcha felt wetness running down her thighs as Azriel pulled his fingers from her mouth.

“Now, since it’s your birthday, I’ll be extra nice to you.” Azriel raised one hand and snapped his fingers. The shadows from around his head darted to Sorcha’s wrists and ankles, wrenching them away from her sides, and where her ankles ground together. They lifted her off the ground, bringing her almost eye level with Az, and pinned her to the wall.

Azriel grinned like a fiend. “If it wasn’t your birthday, I’d have you on your knees, and you’d be worshipping my cock. But, I guess I’ll give you a gift instead.”

Sorcha panted as Azriel palmed the enormous bulge at his waist. Slowly, torturously, he undid the button of his pants, unzipping the fly. Az pushed his boxers down, and his enormous cock sprang free. The bright red tip already glistening with precum, and Sorcha hadn’t even touched him yet.

He marched forward several steps, stroking the full, veiny length of him. Sorcha’s eyes widened to teacup saucers. She’d never seen a man that thick. A drop of panic cooled some of the arousal in her belly, would she be able to take him?

The shadows held her to the wall as the shadowsinger approached. His lips crashed into hers, and he slid his hand between her thighs, testing her wetness before pulling her hips to him, and testing her entrance with the head of his cock.

He broke the kiss as he pushed into her. Not gently, but taking his time. Sorcha moaned as he slid in, taking his sweet time. She felt her cunt stretch around him, accepting every inch of his girth. Finally, he bottomed out. Sorcha was trembling, ready to beg her just to fuck him with that incredible cock when he pulled out suddenly and slammed back into her.

He fucked her against the wall until finally, his balls tightened, and he roared when his orgasm flooded into her.

“Happy Birthday, princess,” he whispered breathlessly in her ear.

#smut #azriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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nicolewoo · 9 months

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Cub: Part 19 Surprise

Pairing: Roman Reigns X Reader

Synopsis: Roman, Seth and Dean are a pack of werewolfs. Protecting their city from the scumbags of the world ends up with a surprise when a victim left for dead imprints on Roman Reigns.

Part 19

POV: Cub

Now that the condos had cleared out, leaving only the six of us, I felt like I could truly relax for the first time in weeks. Exhausted as I was, I treasured this time alone with my pack. My pack… technically Renee and Becky weren’t in my pack, but they would be in the future. Even though I’d gotten very little time to talk to Renee and Becky, we hit it off instantly. To me, it felt like they were already part of the pack.

We curled up on couches around the fireplace, snuggling our mates, covered in warm blankets. Renee had fixed me the best hot chocolate I’d ever had, and I curled my fingers around the mug; sipping the delectable drink.

“… and then he said he wouldn’t need me to go in. I figured with Cub being home, I could stay with her in case she needed anything.” Renee finished her story. “I promise to stay out of your hair though” she said to me.

She was just so sweet. “Don’t worry about it! I’ll be happy to have company.” I said

Roman suppressed a laugh. He knew I was aching for some time alone. This was all amazing. My pack was amazing. My tribe was amazing. My mate was amazing, but I’d had enough of the constant noise and commotion.

Seth got up, holding a hand out to Becky. “Ready for bed?” he asked.

“Did everything get done?” Becks asked Renee. “Food put away and everything?”

Renee started to agree when Dean interrupted. “OMG GUYS!!!! We forgot something!!!” The panic in his voice didn’t match his mindset, but I couldn’t figure out what was going on. “Something UPSTAIRS!” He prompted pointing to the ceiling for emphasis. Suddenly everyone knew what he meant and got up excitedly…. Everyone but me. I searched Roman’s mind but couldn’t find the information I wanted.

“OMG YES!!!!” Becks said. “Let’s go!”

Renee helped me up and linked her arm with mine. “We’ve got a surprise for you!” She started walking us upstairs, my pack right behind us.

“Whoa!!! I want to go ahead” Seth said when we got to the landing. He politely passed us and ran ahead.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Becks agreed with whatever he’d thought.

Roman was getting more excited with each step we took, and that excitement ran through all of us.

We stopped at the door to the bedroom across the hall from Roman’s. “Y/N” Renee used my actual name instead of my nickname; lending a more formal tone to the situation. “We know that your whole life changed in an instant. You aren’t used to being surrounded by so many people all the time. We wanted you to have a place of your very own.”

Roman’s low voice right behind me sent a shiver through my body. “This is YOUR room. We won’t come in here unless you want us to…. That includes me.” I quickly thought back You’ll always be welcome. He smiled big and placed a kiss on top of my head as he wrapped an arm around me.

Renee squealed in excitement. “Ok! Here we go!” Renee opened the door.

The first thing I saw as I entered was Seth video taping me on his phone. “Welcome to your own art studio!” Renee sang out, arms held out wide to show off the space.

An art studio? I began looking around! I stood in awe as my eyes scanned the room. Shelves lined two walls with an easel tucked in the corner between them. The shelves were full of canvases, paints and brushes. A well-lit drafting table in the right corner of the room sat boldly, the lights reflecting off the glass top. A short counter with an industrial sink and lots of cabinets lined the right wall, and a big couch filled the rest of the room. Fairy lights twinkled from every corner of the ceiling. A large ostentatious chandelier sat in the middle of the ceiling, and a giant TV hung on the wall over my drafting table.

I opened my mouth to speak, nothing came out but “I….”

Roman wrapped his arms around me from behind again. “Are you happy?”

Looking up at him, I just started crying. “I….” Now everyone, except Seth came to me. “I don’t deserve….”

“Stop right there!” Seth interrupted. “Yes you do!”

Everyone agreed. Roman spoke aloud now, with words that he had obviously rehearsed in his head. “Cub,” He turned me to face him. “You’ve spent your entire life paying for other peoples’ mistakes.” I couldn’t deny that. “Think of this as your refund. You do deserve it.”

Dean wrapped an arm over my shoulder. “Look. Sis. We’re gonna spoil ya. We love ya too much not to. We want to make up for everything you never had before, and trust me, you’re not going to change our minds about this. You got any idea how stubborn this one is?” he said pointing to Roman and I chuckled, because it was true.

“Thank you all!” Seth was still filming as everyone group hugged me, but I could feel him reaching out to me mentally. It took a minute to stop my crying. “Can I...???”

Roman nodded down to me. “It’s your room. You can look around. You can kick us all out and stay up all night painting. Whatever you want!”

I started at the shelves, running my fingers over the canvases. Some were humongous! I’d never been able to afford big canvases before, and I had lamented many times that my paintings would look better bigger…. I’d have that chance now.

“So, these are your canvases, of course.” Becks said coming to my side like a tour guide. Roman and Renee took advantage of the couch. “And here’s your paints. We didn’t know what type you use, so I got you… well… all of them.” These shelves are your oil paints and supplies” She continued to point out shelves. “This here is your Acrylics and watercolors are down here. Here are your inks.”

My eyes shot even wider than they were before and I gasped. “Alcohol inks?”

Becks shrugged “I don’t know Cub. Sorry. The sales person said this was fun.”

I ran to the shelf, picking up a box of the inks. It was alcohol inks!!!! I squealed in delight as I opened the box to see the colors. “I’ve been wanting to try these, but the paper is so expensive!” I marveled as I ran my hand over an entire shelf of the expensive paper.

“Now you can try it!” Seth chimed. I nodded to him.

“And here… we have… well… I don’t really know. The sales lady said you needed these stencils and tools!” Becks said as he started opening cabinets on the other wall. Inside were dozens of stencils, a boatload of pallet knives, scrapers, texturizing agents, a large bottle of liquid glass for paint pours, gloves, a heat gun….. It was going to take me a while to even go through the treasure trove, but I did spy a package of gold leaf before I turned away to look at the rest of the room. That was going to be fun to play with!

Opening the closet door, “Here we have aprons and smocks.” Renee chimed in. “I also picked up some sweats and scrubs for you. We weren’t sure what you normally use.”

I was going to answer that I just used old clothes, but Roman interrupted. “Baby girl, if there’s ANYTHING you need for your art, just tell me.”

“Anything I need???” I said incredulously. “What more could I need? It’s practically an art store in here!” I laughed.

Seth now put down the camera and sat with Roman and Renee on the couch.

“And here’s your Easel. The lady at the store said it was the best.” I nodded yes. “And I know it’s unconventional, but we got you a drafting table. Dean said he didn’t see anything like that in your apartment, so we figured you probably worked at one of the tables?” When I nodded, she smiled big as if relieved. “So watch this.” Becks was so proud to show it off, and I smiled at her enthusiasm. “The top tilts! So you can have it at whatever angle you want! Isn’t that cool?”

I wrapped an arm around her. “It’s amazing… all of it. You did this?”

“No no no!” She started. “We all had a hand in it.”

“I picked out the couch and TV!” Dean chirped eagerly, and I nodded at him. “Renee did the counter, sink…. Ya know, the construction stuff. Becks got the job of supplies. And Ro…. Well he paid.”

“It’s all just…. Amazing. Absolutely amazing. Never in my life has anyone…” I broke down in tears again. Everyone came to me for another group hug. “Thank you all! So much! This is just… there aren’t words.”

Roman kissed my forehead. “Just make us lots of that incredible art. That’s the only thanks we need.”

“It’s not enough.” I answered. “Thank you just isn’t enough.”

“And when we build our dream house, you’ll have an even bigger, better studio.” Roman said.

I couldn’t think what to say, so I just kissed him. “Ok, now everyone out!” I joked. “Just kidding. Thank you all!”

“We can leave for real if you want to do art now.” Seth offered.

“No… no…. You guys are welcome here. I’m just too tired tonight.” I said.

Renee went to the cabinets and pulled out a tissue for me. “You had to see it tonight though, because I want you to be able to use it tomorrow when everyone is working.”

@mindofasagitarius @lclb13 @serenityfiretrash @lustyromantic @reigns-5sos @bigpsychicbagelauthor @omg-im-such-a-masochist @marlananicole @wickedsunfire @starwithaheart @spookys-girl @pitlissa22 @snowpanda18 @thesamoanqueen

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns

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