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inthemaelstrom · 27 days

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ART ISN'T SUPPOSED TO MAKE YOU COMFORTABLE

By Jen Silverman (NY Times)

(Mx. Silverman is a playwright and the author, most recently, of the novel “There’s Going to Be Trouble.”)

When I was in college, I came across “The Sea and Poison,” a 1950s novel by Shusaku Endo. It tells the story of a doctor in postwar Japan who, as an intern years earlier, participated in a vivisection experiment on an American prisoner. Endo’s lens on the story is not the easiest one, ethically speaking; he doesn’t dwell on the suffering of the victim. Instead, he chooses to explore a more unsettling element: the humanity of the perpetrators.

When I say “humanity” I mean their confusion, self-justifications and willingness to lie to themselves. Atrocity doesn’t just come out of evil, Endo was saying, it emerges from self-interest, timidity, apathy and the desire for status. His novel showed me how, in the right crucible of social pressures, I, too, might delude myself into making a choice from which an atrocity results. Perhaps this is why the book has haunted me for nearly two decades, such that I’ve read it multiple times.

I was reminded of that novel at 2 o’clock in the morning recently as I scrolled through a social media account dedicated to collecting angry reader reviews. My attention was caught by someone named Nathan, whose take on “Paradise Lost” was: “Milton was a fascist turd.” But it was another reader, Ryan, who reeled me in with his response to John Updike’s “Rabbit, Run”: “This book made me oppose free speech.” From there, I hit the bank of “Lolita” reviews: Readers were appalled, frustrated, infuriated. What a disgusting man! How could Vladimir Nabokov have been permitted to write this book? Who let authors write such immoral, perverse characters anyway?

I was cackling as I scrolled but soon a realization struck me. Here on my screen was the distillation of a peculiar American illness: namely, that we have a profound and dangerous inclination to confuse art with moral instruction, and vice versa.

As someone who was born in the States but partially raised in a series of other countries, I’ve always found the sheer uncompromising force of American morality to be mesmerizing and terrifying. Despite our plurality of influences and beliefs, our national character seems inescapably informed by an Old Testament relationship to the notions of good and evil. This powerful construct infuses everything from our advertising campaigns to our political ones — and has now filtered into, and shifted, the function of our artistic works.

Maybe it’s because our political discourse swings between deranged and abhorrent on a daily basis and we would like to combat our feelings of powerlessness by insisting on moral simplicity in the stories we tell and receive. Or maybe it’s because many of the transgressions that flew under the radar in previous generations — acts of misogyny, racism and homophobia; abuses of power both macro and micro — are now being called out directly. We’re so intoxicated by openly naming these ills that we have begun operating under the misconception that to acknowledge each other’s complexity, in our communities as well as in our art, is to condone each other’s cruelties.

When I work with younger writers, I am frequently amazed by how quickly peer feedback sessions turn into a process of identifying which characters did or said insensitive things. Sometimes the writers rush to defend the character, but often they apologize shamefacedly for their own blind spot, and the discussion swerves into how to fix the morals of the piece. The suggestion that the values of a character can be neither the values of the writer nor the entire point of the piece seems more and more surprising — and apt to trigger discomfort.

While I typically share the progressive political views of my students, I’m troubled by their concern for righteousness over complexity. They do not want to be seen representing any values they do not personally hold. The result is that, in a moment in which our world has never felt so fast-changing and bewildering, our stories are getting simpler, less nuanced and less able to engage with the realities through which we’re living.

I can’t blame younger writers for believing that it is their job to convey a strenuously correct public morality. This same expectation filters into all the modes in which I work: novels, theater, TV and film. The demands of Internet Nathan and Internet Ryan — and the anxieties of my mentees — are not so different from those of the industry gatekeepers who work in the no-man’s land between art and money and whose job it is to strip stories of anything that could be ethically murky.

I have worked in TV writers’ rooms where “likability notes” came from on high as soon as a complex character was on the page — particularly when the character was female. Concern about her likability was most often a concern about her morals: Could she be perceived as promiscuous? Selfish? Aggressive? Was she a bad girlfriend or a bad wife? How quickly could she be rehabilitated into a model citizen for the viewers?

TV is not alone in this. A director I’m working with recently pitched our screenplay to a studio. When the executives passed, they told our team it was because the characters were too morally ambiguous and they’d been tasked with seeking material wherein the lesson was clear, so as not to unsettle their customer base. What they did not say, but did not need to, is that in the absence of adequate federal arts funding, American art is tied to the marketplace. Money is tight, and many corporations do not want to pay for stories that viewers might object to if they can buy something that plays blandly in the background of our lives.

But what art offers us is crucial precisely because it is not a bland backdrop or a platform for simple directives. Our books, plays, films and TV shows can do the most for us when they don’t serve as moral instruction manuals but allow us to glimpse our own hidden capacities, the slippery social contracts inside which we function, and the contradictions we all contain.

We need more narratives that tell us the truth about how complex our world is. We need stories that help us name and accept paradoxes, not ones that erase or ignore them. After all, our experience of living in communities with one another is often much more fluid and changeable than it is rigidly black and white. We have the audiences that we cultivate, and the more we cultivate audiences who believe that the job of art is to instruct instead of investigate, to judge instead of question, to seek easy clarity instead of holding multiple uncertainties, the more we will find ourselves inside a culture defined by rigidity, knee-jerk judgments and incuriosity. In our hair-trigger world of condemnation, division and isolation, art — not moralizing — has never been more crucial.

#antis #purity culture #purity wank #why I write fanfic #because I can't publish my morally ambiguous OCs

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teeth-cable · 3 months

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Hey. I've seen some of your HB rewrites and their pretty cool. I even like some of the ideas you came up with (ex. Stolas & Stella being political enemies rather than a married couple, imps being intersex & following a binary gender system, etc).

I was wondering if you could give me some writing advice with rewrite stuff. See, I have this portfolio-like series called 'Let's Reimagine', where I revision (i.e. rewrite and/or redesign) a piece of media (be it a show, movie, webcomic, video game, etc), whether it be something I like, or something that while I'm not a fan of, believe that it could've been great (or at least decent) had it been handled better, while also integrating my OCs (including self-inserts) into my revisions as if they were canon characters in said media. This is one of my passion projects that I'd love to bring to life someday, as I wish to make YouTube videos about them when I create my YT channel (which doesn't exist at this point in time) in the future, so for now, I'm starting small by making posts talking about my revisions on Tumblr & Reddit as like a practice run of sorts (like for ex. creating a manga and then having that manga get an anime adaptation, or creating a comic (like a webcomic) and having that be adapted into an animation of some sort (ex. series, short(s), etc), or creating a book or novel and having said book or novel being adapted into a movie and/or series).

I'm also an aspiring writer who wishes to share their stories with everyone for them to enjoy, including 'Let's Reimagine' (where Helluva Boss is one of the shows I plan on reimagining, due to the many issues it's got, especially with the increase of them in Season 2; as much as I like & enjoy HB, I do have to agree that it's kind of a mess, and I get where fans are coming from with its criticisms, especially towards Season 2). However, there are some issues of mine that I feel could detriment my writing abilities & projects (including 'Let's Reimagine') in general (ex. not thinking about potential plot holes, inconsistencies, worldbuilding/lore issues, & questionable/weak/bad writing choices/ideas, rushing into things before thinking & planning stuff out, worrying about my stories not being good enough for anyone to enjoy, feeling inferior compared to other artists & writers, people hating what I make, and thinking the worst possible outcomes; apologizes if that got a little too personal and if I (potentially) made you worried; I suffer from anxiety and have a tendency to get anxious and worked up too quickly, especially when thinking negatively, and trying to be a perfectionist, worrying that if I or my content aren't perfect, then I come across as a failure; but I assure you that I am trying to work on these issues and getting past them for the better).

So, with all that said, do you have any advice in creating & doing rewrites/revisions (ex. planning stuff out, character arcs/development, worldbuilding/lore, plot points, fixing & covering plot holes & inconsistences, fulfilling wasted/missed potential & missed opportunities, avoiding questionable/weak/bad writing choices/ideas, integrating ocs/self-inserts into said rewrite/revision, etc) to any writers out there (including aspiring ones)?

Feel free to respond back to me whenever you get the chance. Thank you and have a wonderful day/afternoon/night. 🤗💕❤️🧡💛💚💙💜💖💕🤗

This is very late, I'm so sorry it took me this long to answer your ask.

Things has changed sufficiently from when this ask was submitted. My HB rewrite is on currently on pause so I can focus on my Hazbin one instead.

I do like the concept of your Let's Reimagine series. It sounds like a fun passionate project in which you experiment with your writing and show tough love for the shows you're rewriting for. I hope soon you'll be able to release your first rewrite for the series.

I have some general writing advice and one specific advice for rewrites I personally use.

Create the world building first

If your rewrite takes place in a fantasy world, I suggest fleshing the world building first before the characters. This is a different world from our, so their rules and lore will affect these characters differently, and you should know why first to explain the certain elements of the both the characters and world. Fleshing the world building first can help create plot ideas and external conflict easier.

Have a Beta Reader

This one is standard. I suggest having a beta reader to review your rewrites and concepts. As writers, we think our stories make sense because we know the context, but to readers who don't know anything, our scripts realistically be confusing at first. Along the same vain, they can help you realize that an idea is underdeveloped or useless. Another good reason is they can offer new and improved concepts and ideas you didn’t or wouldn't think of before.

Be open to criticism

Criticism will help you grow as a writer. You don't have to like them all or listen to every piece, but still keep an open mind because they can and will help you. I heavily suggest being open to criticism specially when you’re writing a topic you have no experience in (Ex: mental illness, addiction, a specific identity). Again, not only will it help you improve, but also portray those topics better.

Rewrite

My only rewrite specific advice is to expand and flesh out ideas and characters, you felt the original show skimmed over. In both of my rewrites, I'm putting a greater focus on the world building, dark character concepts and how they intertwined with each other because the shows barely touches on them. It's your rewrite so do whatever you want with it, don’t feel limitless.

I hope this helps!

#꧁rambles꧂#➥asks #writing advice

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fluffydavey · 11 months

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Have you ever stagedoored and met the cast? Do you have any tips?

i've been really lucky to stagedoor a few times and get to meet some of the cast who are all very lovely!

i would say:

most importantly, respect the actors who don't want to stagedoor. some will be across the street talking to people they know, or some will run out so they can grab some food if it's after a matinee, or some will be rushing to get home after an evening show, and i think it's really important that we respect their boundaries? i understand feeling disappointed that someone you wanted to meet and talk to isn't stagedooring that day, but be mindful that they just may not be feeling it that particular day? it's a really demanding show, and i think we should be very grateful for the people who do come out and say hi!

also note - the last time i went a lot of the actors just walked straight past us because they were clearly on their way to do something, and i think it's very important to know it's nothing personal, and they probably would stop and talk to you if they could!

the cast are very sweet, they'll take time to speak with you and thank you for coming (especially matthew, who will have full-blown conversations with people at stagedoor and will take his time to talk to people, see how they liked the show, try make them feel comfortable. we love matthew so much)

i really understand the feelings of anxiety at the idea of stagedooring by yourself, but if that's the only thing stopping you, i think you should still try if you're feeling able to! i've made friends with other fans when trying to stagedoor by myself and we've helped each other with photos and chatted while waiting for others to come out! granted this doesn't happen all the time, but i think as a fandom newsies fans are pretty chill and i don't think i've ever made as many friends through a show than newsies and i'll forever be grateful for it, and the people it's brought into my life! newsies really are forever 😭❤️

have fun!! i know it's nerve-wracking seeing the people that you really admire, especially comfort characters, but it's an incredible experience!! and you can tell it means just as much to the cast when they see people repping the tshirtsies or listening to you talk about why their character/acting choices mean so much to you. i think it's a really special experience for everyone involved!

as much as i would love to have the artistic or creative skills to come up with presents for the cast, i'm very bad at arts and crafts and do not have the brain to come up with the amazing things i've seen others bring to the show. i am in awe of every single one of you. but!! if you’ve made presents for the entire cast, the actors who do go out are more than happy to collect the gifts that were made for people who don’t stagedoor and they’ll be able to receive them that way!

i’m repeating myself but most importantly have fun!! take lots of pictures, talk to as many cast members who are out stagedooring and try talk to other fans! make the most out of this amazing experience you’ll have! ❤️

#answered #i hope if you do decide to stagedoor you have a wonderful time!!#i know i'm really pushing for lets let the cast be able to do their own things without being disturbed #but i see way too many people interrupt their conversations with their friends or family for pictures and idk it's a little dicey for me #i 100% get wanting to see your favourite actor but maybe consider the actor's feelings about this too

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cellody · 1 year

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DWC: Day VII

LOVER & AFTERMATH @daily-writing-challenge MENTIONS: The Elements

Fire wore Lance down as if he had been the one on stage sweating through his awful choice of rare, all-black layers with no exposed skin able to breath in what air was available for cooling. Even his face—the only uncovered area besides his fingers—had to consistently be fanned; not only had the room been understandably warm per the theme and its popularity packing in the most bodies, but what he knew was going on outside of the gallery forced a permanent redness to burn all across his cheeks that made the hot flash that much more visible. He was beyond grateful to have rushed past, happier still to have studied all the saucy, thought-provoking artwork, and elated to have this bravery tucked into the nonexistent arsenal of his mind, but what was the most indescribable was the rush of relief that nearly left him dizzy when finally under the night sky of Dalaran.

The aftermath of the event had him wanting for bed like never before.

Once the two portals and multitude of stairs were traversed in order to make it home, Lance unlocked the front door to Taldormu’s—well, their—Valdrakken abode where his shoulders finally went lax and sighs escaped from weary lungs. The dracthyr leader wheeled around from where he’d been looking over a map and rushed to greet him with golden eyes wide and white, fanged teeth showcased in a hope-bearing grin. “You are back! How was it? Is all well...?” He could not keep from asking, after all; his treasured lover looked so worn out.

Thankfully, Lance returned that smile. “I’m so tired.” Tal chose to then morph from scales to skin when donning his shorter (albeit still plenty tall when compared to the goat), softer visage form clad in cloth and leathers worn under the usual armor. No such plate was kept on when off the training field, though. This was graciously and wordlessly given thanks when the younger plopped against that favored chest, arms loosely linked around hips in the same way his eyelids grew heavy. “But it was worth it. I... am glad I went at your insistence—I truly am.”

Such truth helped Tal to flex into a much tighter embrace. “Good. Good, good.” This was said with the same fluctuation ‘thank the gods’ would have been. Just because he’d urged Lance to attend didn’t mean he had confidence the artist would actually enjoy himself. “You were out quite a while. I’d begun to grow nervous.”

He would have looked up at the other had he not instead allowed his sights to close. Fatigue enraptured him quickly. “I took so much time appreciating all of her art that even the guards began to think me a bit strange. If I’d had any plus one, they’d have gotten bored of waiting for me in an instant.”

“Nonsense. I enjoy every moment with you.” Lance, of course, hummed with some amusement at this the way he always did; Tal would never relent from his adoring promises. “But my company would have been too much of a barrier from your need to blossom.”

“You were also working.” Then a green gaze flit upwards. “And, um...” His expression twisted so comically in wonder over how to word his thoughts that even Tal chuffed once. “I-I started overheating towards the end.”

He couldn’t possibly explain that people were outright showcasing coitus on stage when he himself yet struggled to come to terms with that imagery. That... feeling. Though no part of him had at any point been aroused, he understood the tension. Besides... he’d only seen such mingling for about three seconds before awkwardly fleeing. No sense in making the evoker fretfully gawk (though he’d have loved to see what reaction it’d bear).

Tal simply grunted. “I take it a warm bath is out of the question, then. Shall I fetch you a glass of something cold?”

Lips pursed and postures leaned away to begin the process of untangling from one another. “...A glass of something cold and a warm bath,” he corrected.

They’d not stay apart for long.

#dwc

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fangirlshrewt97 · 10 months

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D20 - Dungeons and Drag Queens Ep 2 Notes

Oh man, I am so far behind. I will try to finish the other two episodes within the next week if possible. Let’s see.

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I love Jujubee placing herself in the middle of the group. No one will come at her first

"But you're the oldest one here trying to die bitch" LOLOL

"But I'm not dead. [...] And since I'm not alive...Bitch!" That is Jujubee's second retraction after accidentally eating the magical seed. Love the table just falling over themselves at these antics. "What did you roll a one? A one on steath?"

"If you roll a one, we are going to end up with a guppy.: Bob with the incredible quips once again.

"Did she lose her sense of fashion" Brennan just losing it while Monet just looks so done and disappointed.

Alaska's expression whenever she goes into character is top notch, that growling face

"Dinner is served!" "Is she going to fucking eat us...we're rotting?!" LOL

Monet jumping into the explanation before Brennan even asks her to. So excited, so cute.

Gertrude's attack was so cool.

Here we go with Brennan making all his players cry again. This man's storytelling abilities are awe-inspiring

"What the going gets tusk, the tusk gets going." All of these character taglines are so on point.

Awww this uncle is so sweet.

Lol Troyan forgeting the spell letting them take characters across the river is so perfect.

Them rushing to write down the name of the Goddess is also very nice. They are great first time DnD players!

Damn Nyruth is handsome too. The character artists for this season really went all out (But then again, they always do at D20).

Oh my god Jujubee is so chaotic, the others spend half the show just trailing behind trying to clean up their mess. Brennan must love her for it.

"I wanna get wet." Brennan stop! God why does it always make me blush when he just says stuff like that!

Jujubee is so proud of the Monet X Change pun lololol

"I can disguise myself as a flashlight" Lol, I don't know how much jujubee genuinely wants to play, and how much she just wants to cause chaos, but I love her for it.

I kind of wish we had gotten a chane to see Brennan's expression as the Queens are discussing this double crossing plan.

Unbelieve Brennan, oh my god. Just playing on the Paula Abdul bit.

I like the flash cuts to Alaska's reactions to the antics of Bob and Jujubee, where she is just mentally rolling her eyes, like what is happening right now?/are you serious?

Oh my god, "Dispel his Dispel Magic". So convoluted

Holy shit, three ones! Oh no that jack that is going to eat them.

Did Monet just try to trick Brennan the DM abut what dice to use? Lol

"D'Hamia - Snatched and Thirsty" the captions are superb

"I pour your tea in a bucket" Glad to see them all remembering Princess's size lol.

All of them playing out what's the best plan is actually so nice. Like they are really leaning into the RP this season, because for newbies, a ton of combat would be heard. And it's nice seeing the Queens trying to logic out what would be the best moves to do. Even if their dice don't always let them.

"4" "Hundred" Twyla is so chaotic, my god, she always just does the most insane choice. ...I really want her to play with Emily (RIP their poor DM)

Ooooh Troyan's mom is only saving herself...

"She sounds like an alcoholic" Brennan has been wheeze laughing so much this episode, it's delightful

Oof, brutal revelation

"It wasn't like 'Hey girl!'" Brennan's expression is so funny

D'Hamia interactions with Princess are great

"We are going to pimp out our orc friend." Bob is just killing it with the one liners.

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Oh god this preview is so dramatic lol

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That was a good episode! I can see the campaign will likely be very light in combat, which makes sense, the Queens are making the RP and character choices that are so entertaining and fun to watch. Excellent season so far.

#dimension 20 #dungeons and drag queens #d20 #brennan lee mulligan #alaska thvnderfvck #jujubee #bob the drag queen #monet x change #my reaction notes

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lemonbarsss · 1 year

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Damn, it's a harsh world.

A little thing about me is that I love exploring possibilities and topics. I've bounced back and forth on the thought of numerous future endeavors and dream careers such as painting, writing stories, creating comics, clay art, floral design, plant care, even interior design and entomology.

It's all very overwhelming to think about, especially for me. I'm a person who tends to dream and imagine things a lot. Yes, I've had a few people I've come across in my life tell me that what I'm doing isn't worth it, but I keep going due to my stubbornness.

Lately, I've been feeling mentally discouraged. I often tell myself I wish I was more invested in science or math or social studies, because then I would be able to actually achieve something in life- like becominging a neuologist or an archetect. Something that would bring me a lot of success and earn me a big house with a cool car and an outdoor pool.

I did mention earlier I like to explore my options, but its more in the context of using my hands to create something. Sitting still and working with numbers is impossible for me. I don't know if it's just the way I am personality-wise, or if there's something wrong with me. I struggle on the intellectual side of things quite a bit, which probably explains why I was a horrible student in math class back in high school.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I find myself regretting my life choices, and I frequently wish I was smarter and thought more about my future ahead of time instead of thinking that becoming an artist would be a good idea.

I don't know if school rushed me to make a solid decision, but I also don't know if I thought about my future hard enough. Sure, writing a story and making art about my silly characters is really fun, but I don't know if it will carry me to success.

I'm still going to keep trying (and of course keep posting every once in a while here), but this is how I've been feeling lately.

#artist problems #just ranting #rant #vent i guess?#reality #life stuff #adulting i guess?

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lenbryant · 1 month

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(Times) Art Isn’t Supposed to Make You Comfortable

By Jen Silverman

Mx. Silverman is a playwright and the author, most recently, of the novel “There’s Going to Be Trouble.”

Sign up for the Opinion Today newsletter Get expert analysis of the news and a guide to the big ideas shaping the world every weekday morning.

#refrigerator magnet #art #writing #narratives #morality #storytelling #writers #long post

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grotto-esque · 1 month

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Art Isn’t Supposed to Make You Comfortable

By Jen Silverman

source

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manymorewords-blog · 8 months

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After logging out and not returning to Tumblr for over a decade, I'm amused by how quickly I gave up on Tumblr so long ago. I made two posts, the second was about running. I suppose I did run off to live and am just now returning after my time away. This third post is of a picture I took of mural in Raleigh, NC showing a toddler whose picture went social media viral after the Women's March in Washington, DC. I took this picture a little over three years ago during the first wave of the COVID-19 pandemic that in many ways brought many worlds to a stop. As of two days ago, the World Health Organization reports nearly 7 million deaths attributable to COVID-19, meanwhile The Economist estimates that worldwide excess deaths are closer to 26.1 million.

Back in the early 2010's, there was no way we collectively could have imagined what was to come. Here, many years and protests and movements later, I've been living in Boston. Far from family. Meeting new and different and interesting people. It's drizzly out, and there are videos circulating on social media about flash floods in NYC that left water spouting out of subway station walls, water rushing into buses. A small whirlpool in a street with cars up to their doorhandles in water. Canadian wildfires kicked off summer, leaving an umber and orange sun familiar to me as the sun of many Santa Barbara fires. My apartment smelled like a carne asada without the carne. It was just smoky all across the Northeast. My cousin in New Jersey and I remarked that at least it wasn't raining ash here, though we could imagine and empathize with those closer to the fires dealing with more smoke and all the ash. As the impacts of global climate change set in, politicians in Boston and other cities are making moves to criminalize homelessness by banning tents.

In the U.S., many benefits were expanded and child poverty was cut in half during the COVID-19 pandemic. Experts attribute this to government programs enacted to alleviate the economic impacts of COVID-19 on families. Three years later, those programs have ended. The government called an end to the public health state of emergency, which means many resources are no longer available. Child poverty has risen back to pre-pandemic levels.

I'm missing a lot, I haven't even talked about the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement, how the Dream Act didn't get passed, how the far right is on the rise and reconfiguring. The tech world has, unsurprisingly, not been the balm it sold itself as being. Recently a tech company used decades of work by various authors to train a machine learning algorithm without consent from the authors. Sounds a lot like stealing.

There's still time, though, for people to make different choices, for little pockets of community to imagine something better.

If anything feels like the opening lines of the Aeneid, it is maybe anyone allowing themselves to take in this moment. We are very much in the middle of things, we have been for some time. I guess I'm calling on the muses, artists, creative people who came before me to help me find the words to describe what it is like to be living through this time and moving forward in a time of significant change. I'm thinking I'll end this account here. If I start a new one, my username will be limpingwolf. I opened a blue sky account, though, much like this Tumblr a decade ago, I struggle with different platforms and the craft of writing effectively for each. Here's to hoping I find my voice and a way forward with other people who want a more decent life for their loved ones, and even for people we don't know.

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allthingsfook · 1 year

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hiii! i was wondering if i could get a ship :) you are literally the best for doing these!

I'm like 5'6" and i have really curly brown hair. I'm currently in college double majoring in musical theatre and theatre education but i swear i am not a crazy theatre kid lol. the dream is to perform on broadway and then end up teaching theatre down the line :) i'm a pisces sun scorpio moon and libra rising and i love nature, music, dancing, and being around the people i love. my favorite artists are joni mitchell, fleetwood mac, the lumineers, hozier, boygenius, harry styles, melt, and so many more. i love jazz/funk/indie music and i would love to be in a band one day. my favorite colors are yellow orange and blue. i would say my style is pretty granola-y, i love thrifting and finding big oversized t-shirts that say stupid things on them. i am a massive overthinker and have anxiety which is pretty rough and when i'm having a bad day all i want is someone to just cuddle. my love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation.

thank you so so much, you are the best <333

Welcome lovely anon!!!! I ship you with….

Joshua ✨

NOT just because theatre and performing runs in both of your blood, but you seem to have a lot of qualities/interests that have Josh written all over them. Let’s explore!!!

I think you and josh would have a lot to discuss when it comes to theatre. It’s hard to say if he still has a deep, nostalgic love for it yet, or if he is haunted by his Jat in the Hat and Jilly Jonka days 😂😂😂 Either way I think you could tease him when looking back at the photos. He can take it, don’t be shy 😂 In all seriousness, he’d be sooo supportive of your dreams of being on Broadway. If he was on the road and you were supposed to preform, he’d rush across the country to make it just in time for your debut!!!! Greeting you afterwards, he’d have a large bouquet of white roses for his special woman 🤍

Josh would be so down for a day full of thrifting and goofing off together! As timeless as the joutfit is, I love when he wears unique pieces that he clearly has thrifted. Maybe you could help him expand his wardrobe and feel more comfortable in out of the box pieces!

If there is anyone in this world that could hone in on you and get you through a moment of anxiety, it would be Josh. I feel like he could pick up on your feelings quickly, adapt, and be able to create an environment to promote safety and tranquility for you. This is where his words of affirmation toward you would factor in greatly. After breathing with you and getting you back down to a safe level, he will nurture your soul with his choice of words. In the end, telling you how proud he is of you; for your courage, veracity, and warmheartedness… Then giving you a sweet embrace 💞

I hope you enjoyed!!!! Here’s a josh collage to make you smile today 💗💗

#greta van fleet #gvf #gvf ships #gvf imagine #greta van fluff #josh kiszka #josh gvf #joshkiszkaship #joshua michael kiszka

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michele-mccoy-photography · 2 years

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Top 3 Things to Look for in a Wedding Photographer

By: Michele McCoy Photography Booking a photographer for your wedding is a process that shouldn’t be rushed. This is the person that will be capturing every special moment of your big day so making sure that you pick just the right person should be a top priority.

As you start your search for a photographer, here are the three most important things to look out for.

STYLE

It’s easy for a wedding photographer to impress you by showing you a slideshow of their top 25 to 30 wedding photos but this isn’t going to give you a good enough idea of what you can expect overall. A better approach is to ask to see a variety of shots from different parts of a wedding so that you know exactly what you can expect. You’ll want to have a look through everything from the getting ready and detail shots to the ceremony, toasts and reception shots. Wedding photography styles that you’ll typically come across include artistic, dramatic, lifestyle and classic so take the time to browse through some shoots that fit into those various categories to find out what works best for you as a couple and whether the photographer you had in mind can offer you those types of shots.

PERSONALITY

Your wedding photographer is going to be around you and your family for most of your wedding day, so it’s important for you to feel comfortable with him or her. When a couple doesn’t feel comfortable around their wedding photographer, it will show in their photos, but the opposite holds true too. A good photographer will know how to make you feel at ease, will guide you on how to pose before and on your wedding day, and will always be willing to answer any questions that you might have.

EXPERIENCE

You will of course want to know that your photographer has the relevant experience to shoot a wedding but it’s also important to know what types of weddings they have photographed. Will you have a dimly lit venue that requires someone who knows how to shoot in low light situations? Are you having an ethnic wedding and need someone who understands specific cultural traditions? Will your ceremony have special requirements such as not being able to use a flash or not being able to stand up close? Make a list of your requirements before you meet with your photographer so that you can make sure there won’t be any potential problems leading up to the wedding once the finer details are discussed.

While price does play a role in choosing a photographer, basing your choice on these top three elements is far more important. Your wedding photos are something you’ll treasure for years to come so take the time to choose a photographer that can best capture these amazing memories.

If you're looking for a compassionate wedding photographer eager to capture your special day, lets connect! Whether you're looking for a wedding photographer for a small and sweet wedding or a full day of celebration, I'll work with you every step of the way, from learning about what moments you want to capture, to being at your wedding to photograph those big moments to all the little details, smiles and candid moments.

I have a very fun and engaging style. Not only do I have a passion for delivering you stunning photos, but to also make sure I capture all those in-between candid moments during your wedding so that you can remember all the details of your wedding forever.

To look at my wedding photography packages and get a quote, you can click here.

IF YOU LIKE THIS BLOG, YOU MAY ALSO LIKE:

Tips to Prepare for Your Wedding Photography Consultation

12 Must Have Wedding Detail Shots You Won’t Want to Miss

5 Simple Tips to Help Take the Stress Out of Planning a Wedding

Michele McCoy

PHOTOGRAPHER

I'm Michele McCoy, a family and wedding photographer in beautiful Mountain Home, Arkansas. I am also a blessed wife, mother of two sweet boys, nature enthusiast, and creative.

My passion for photography has grown over many years, from receiving my first disposable camera as a kid, to now capturing all those special moments in life within my own family and for my clients.

I have over 10+ years experience taking photos. My family and friends all told me that I should become a photographer. From there, I launched my business and found a mentor, an award winning photographer for 20+ years, to help me become the best photographer I could be.

#weddingphotographer #weddingphotographers #arbride #weddingplanning #weddingphotos #weddingportraits #northwestarkansas #nwa #southwestmissouri #photographer #photographers #weddingtips

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writemarcus · 2 years

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Power, Grace, and Noise

Whether a poetry slam, a tennis court, or a Broadway stage, Reg E. Gaines always brings his best game

by SUSAN L. HORNIK

May 25, 2022

Few poets can command a stage like Reg E. Gaines. For the past 30 years, the charismatic artist has mesmerized crowds at virtually every venue he has performed in. The two-time Tony and Grammy Award nominee, for the Broadway hit Bring in ’Da Noise, Bring in ’Da Funk, was at the forefront of the hip-hop meets spoken-word movement of the 1990s, and countless poets have been inspired by his intense performances. “Reg E. Gaines was an original member of the Poetry Pantheon who bum-rushed the stage of the Nuyorican Poets Cafe in the 90s,” Bob Holman, founder of the Bowery Poetry Club and a former Nuyorican Poetry Slam emcee, tells the Voice. “That crew—Maggie Estep, Tracie Morris, Paul Beatty, Willie Perdomo, Mike Tyler, Dael Orlandersmith, Dana Bryant, Edwin Torres, Ron Cephas Jones, among others—would bring an energized audience and national attention to the Poetry Slam, which I imported from Chicago’s Green Mill Tavern.”

Holman describes Gaines as a “sly, rangy, self-deprecating” athlete-turned-poet. “His moves onstage mirrored his grace and power on the tennis court. His classic ‘Please Don’t Take My Air Jordans’ poem were the last words of a just-mugged teen lying bleeding on the sidewalk. Take my cash, take my drugs, but don’t take my kicks!” The poem was published in the influential arts magazine BOMB, performed during a Ted Talk by poet Lemon Anderson, and memorized by writers across the country. “When the Nuyorican Poets went on tour, audiences would chant the words to ‘Air Jordans’ alongside Gaines’s performance,” Holman notes.

my air jordans cost a hundred with tax my suede starters jacket says ‘raiders’ on the back i’m stylin … smilin … lookin real mean cuz it ain’t about bein heard just bein seen my leather adidas baseball cap matches my fake gucci backpack there’s nobody out there looks good as me but the shit costs money it sure ain’t free and i gots no job no money at all but it’s easy ta steal the shit from the mall parents say i shouldn’t but i know i should gots ta do what i can to make sure i look good

. . .

come out a the station west 4th near the park brothers shootin hoops and someone remarks “HEY HOMES … WHERE’D YOU GET THOSE DEF NIKES?” as i said to myself … i likes em … i likes they were q-tip type white and blinded my eyes the red emblem of michael looked as if it could fly not one spot of dirt the airs were brand new i had my pistol knew just what to do —Excerpts from “Please Don’t Take My Air Jordans,” by Reg E. Gaines

Perdomo, the state poet of New York 2021 to 2023, says, “When I met Reg, he had already cataloged most of the iconic poems from the Nuyorican School of Poetry and the Black Arts Movement in his memory, verse by verse, stanza by stanza. He was a walking anthology. His discipline was inspiring and his love of poetry is real. He can ignite your political consciousness with any of his haiku, and the full-length triptych vanity mirror scene in Bring in ’Da Noise, Bring in ’Da Funk was one of the most powerful theater moments I ever witnessed. Reg E. Gaines brings in the smoke.”

Gaines has published three books of poetry, including The Original Buckwheat, and his work appears in anthologies such as Aloud: Voices From the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry, and Bum Rush the Page. With John Coltrane, Miles Davis, James Baldwin, Toni Morrison, and Malcolm X as influences, Gaines has sought to connect music with his poetry, blending the two mediums whenever he performs. “My writing is rhythm, I am not concerned about contextually what’s happening,” he explains. “I’m trying to convey complicated emotions. I’m picking words for imagery and musicality. It’s not about word choice or wordplay or use of language, it’s about what words are musical. So my whole process is picking words that are musical enough for me to convey my emotion.”

Virtually all of Gaines’s poems have music behind them. His brother Calvin’s production company, Promiscuous Music, has worked with artists such as Destiny’s Child and Lady Gaga, often working with producer Mark Wilson. Another music producer brother, Phillip, known professionally as Michael Moog, collaborates with Reg and has worked with Tiffany and New Kids on the Block. “Being around these genius musicians, my family, they understand what I am trying to create. Just like Coltrane, they understand how to tell a story via their music. And I learned how to be a better writer listening to music,” Reg asserts. Calvin adds, “When we first saw Reg perform at the Nuyorican, we were shocked at how musical and nuanced his words were. That’s when we knew we wanted to collaborate in the studio. It’s been an incredible experience.”

Gaines gave poet-playwright Carl Hancock Rux his first opportunity to record. “It was on his album Sweeper Don’t Clean My Streets,” says Rux. “He had already had great success as a spoken word artist, was on his second album, and remained generous and connected to the community the entire time. That’s the model we all lived by at that time. Each one, teach one; each one, open the door for the other. Nuyorican Cafe cofounders Miguel Algarín and Lois Griffith and so many others taught us to nurture a community of poets and artists so we would contribute something to the world,” he continues. “No one was in it for themselves. I love Reg for that, and always will. He had remained the same person he was decades ago, building platforms for as many artists as he can.”

Gaines was crowned a Nuyorican “Grand Slam Champion” in 1991, an impressive achievement within the slam poetry community. Poet Katherine Arnoldi fondly recalls memories of losing to him. “At the Grand Slam, I made the mistake of throwing my big slam poem, ‘My Landlord,’ out early in the competition. The Nuyorican was packed that night and Reg was on fire, as he always is, making the words pop and swirl. He beat me with his ‘Air Jordan’ poem because he had the force and was using it for good! Nevertheless, 30 years later, to save a little face, I have to remind him he only won by a quarter of a point!”

National tours, a record deal with Mercury, and appearances on national TV shows such as The Arsenio Hall Show, The Daily Show With Jon Stewart, and MTV Unplugged soon followed. Says Holman, “Gaines was also an important dynamic in MTV’s decision to do ‘Spoken Word Unplugged,’ a precursor to Russell Simmons’s ‘HBO Def Poetry Jam’ of a few years later.” Black Flag’s Henry Rollins hosted the two MTV versions, which relied almost exclusively on the Nuyorican Poets Cafe poets. “Gaines’s ‘Air Jordans’ became a national dialogue,” says Holman. “With ‘Queen of the Scene’ Maggie Estep, he performed the first-ever televised poetry duet/duel, trading verses (and accusations) in ‘You’re Just Using Me for Sex.’ It was a defining moment—the MTV spotlight had stopped for a moment on the Cafe poets. Poetry was now officially cool.”

A highlight of Gaines’s career was performing poetry onstage with musician Eric Roundtree and Gaines’s brother Gordon for 150,000 people at Woodstock, in 1994. The event turned out to be the last performance Gordon and Reg collaborated on; Gordon died a short time later. “Reg once told me about Black poetry, that they will love you till they understand what you are saying, then they’ll want to kill you,” says Roundtree. “He is fearless.” And while these days lots of people are trying to become celebrities, posting content on TikTok and Instagram, Gaines had little interest in his brief brush with fame. When he was nominated for a Tony, he says, he was almost relieved when Rent creator Jonathan Larson won that year. “Had Larson not passed away, I would have won the Tony that year,” acknowledges Gaines. “But fame is all bullshit; any disappointment I felt disappeared five minutes later. I was on to the next project.”

Gaines is now expanding to directing, working on varied projects, including Jerry Quickley’s Live From the Front, Regie Cabico’s Straight/Out, and Marcella Goheen’s BLAK. Since 2007, he has been the artistic director of the Downtown Urban Arts Festival, which is celebrating its 20th anniversary of presenting new works highlighting contemporary urban culture. “My passion for theater started as a young boy when my grandma took my brothers and sisters to see plays. It opened my eyes and I wanted to work more in this medium,” he recalls. “I so enjoy encouraging young artists who have something to say.” Over the past 20 years, DUAF has presented nearly 300 new plays by over 200 emerging and established playwrights, including Dominique Morisseau, Martyna Majok, Nelson Diaz-Marcano, Carl Hancock Rux, Jessica Care Moore, Craig MuMs Grant, and Ming Peiffer.

“Reg E. was the first person to hear my voice and make it feel worth it,” says Diaz-Marcano. “Saw my style and told me my voice mattered. And when my work needed just a bit of help, he offered me the space and counsel to grow. I worked with [the festival] in 2013 before I got burnt out and decided to quit writing. A few years later, I decided to give it a try again and I trusted the festival with what I believed was my last chance. I won Best Play that year. Today, I am an award-winning published playwright, and I believe entirely if it weren’t for the encouragement and challenges that Reg gave me, I wouldn’t be here today.” ❖

The 2022 festival will present four full-length plays and 12 one-acts, as well as an extended engagement of James Earl Hardy’s B-Boy Blues The Play, the festival’s centerpiece, directed by Stanley Bennett Clay. Festival performances will run from June 1 to 25 at Theatre Row (410 West 42nd Street).

Wednesday, June 1 at 8 p.m. 20th Anniversary, by Marcus Harmon Set 20 years after the September 11 attacks, two firefighters meet to remember a friend, and reveal much about themselves and the world around them. The Hard Knock Lyfe, by Cris Eli Blak When a rapper is diagnosed with AIDS, he must reckon with masculinity, what it means to be a man of color, and repairing his relationship with his estranged daughter.

Thursday, June 2 at 8 p.m. Socky Tells All, by Rollin Jewett Andy is a young patient in a mental institution who has no intention of ever leaving. Nor does his best friend—a stuffed sock monkey. The Palmist, by Sheila Duane Fortune tellers predict the future, but are they really psychic? Can they sense a murderer with a single touch?

Wednesday, June 8 at 8 p.m. Phantasmagoria, by Alethea Harnish While in university-sanctioned quarantine, a young woman learns what it means to forsake her home, her family, and her religion to live in the devil’s playground: New York City.

Thursday, June 9 at 8 p.m. Forever and a Day, by Marcus Scott Triggered by viral videos of young Black people dying, a boy genius and his best pals embark on a journey to discover the Fountain of Youth, through which they believe they can circumvent and combat the rampant violence against young Black people. The Love Not Together, by Jennifer Cendana Armas L and K are absolutely in love with each other … and absolutely unable to get it together.

Wednesday, June 15 at 8 p.m. Soul Survivor, by Alano P. Baez A man imprisoned and sentenced to die contemplates the course of his life, the story of his beloved soul singer, Sam Cooke, and the history of Black oppression in America.

Thursday, June 16 at 8 p.m. Run, by Elle Rhythm and verse drive this contemporary opera about a woman who, after a rattling revelation, awakens from a deep sleep. Adulting, by Amira Mustapha Miriam is a 30-something Muslim woman who recently experienced a loss. While she is waiting for her mother to arrive, her friend Liz tries to help her cope. How will she navigate this loss? And more important, how the hell you put on a hijab?

Saturday, June 18 at 8 p.m. For Colored Boyz, by Bryan-Keyth Wilson For Colored Boyz on the verge of a nervous breakdown/When freedom ain’t enuff is an unabashed, unapologetic display of Blackness that speaks to the human heart from a Black man’s perspective.

Wednesday, June 22 at 8 p.m. Midnight Mirage, by Zoe Howard Two strangers encounter each other on a subway platform in the middle of the night. As time bends and warps, they discover what it means to connect. The Good Cop, by Christin Eve Cato Anita Jones, a journalist who dedicates her life to civil rights and justice, is about to help file a lawsuit that will change many Black and Brown lives forever. She needs another signature, and turns to an estranged friend, Jade Santiago, a police officer who abides by the blue wall of silence.

Thursday, June 23 at 8 p.m. A Shot Rang Out, by Michael Hagins A white police officer is trapped in a warehouse during an increasingly violent protest with a scared Black teen and a disgruntled schoolteacher. Stoop, by Isa Guzman Two people from different generations within a predominantly Latino community confront the difficulties of coming out as transgender. The play is a moment, a confrontation, between two characters who care for each other but don’t have the same understanding of the situation.

Saturday, June 25 at 8 p.m. The Pride, by Joy In the Baker home, God is first. And women are kings.

Tickets and information at duafnyc.com

Susan Lyn Hornik is an entertainment/lifestyle journalist who has written for the South China Morning Post, BBC.com, and the L.A. Times, among others. One of her poems appeared in Aloud: Voices From the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, where she curated the Poets Erotica reading series.

#Marcus Scott #MarcusScott #WriteMarcus #Write Marcus #Reg E Gaines #DUAF #Downtown Urban Arts Festival #Theatre Row #The Village Voice #Village Voice

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

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It's Only Temporary

Feyre Archeron x Rhys - Tattoo Artist Oneshot

After losing a bet, Rhys gets a new tattoo

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, Tattoos

2492 words

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“Fey!” Cassian’s voice boomed through the glass door as he grinned and waved to get her attention.

Looking up from her sketchbook, Feyre watched as Cassian tried to open the locked door again, shaking the wood so hard the bell hanging above it started chiming frantically.

She rolled her eyes and walked out from behind the counter she’d been working at, quickly getting to the door before his enthusiasm ripped it from its hinges. Feyre had barely flipped the lock when Cassian swung it open and immediately wrapped her in a bone crushing hug, lifting her off the ground as she laughed before setting her back down and ruffling her hair. Then he strutted through the dim lobby of her tattoo parlor taking his time to survey the walls of designs, the colorful crushed velvet couches, and the small rack of t-shirts and stickers she had for sale with the shop’s logo printed on them.

The Rainbow was Feyre’s baby. She’d saved almost every penny from the time she’d gotten her first job in order to afford her shop. After studying art in school and apprenticing for a few years, she’d finally been able to buy a small storefront in Velaris and built her business from the ground up.

It didn’t hurt that most of her friends liked tattoos and were always happy to be her canvases and subsequent advertising.

Shaking her head at Cassian who’d made himself at home near her front counter, Feyre returned to her spot with her sketchbook, now open to display a howling water wolf, and raised a brow, “Can’t you read? I’m closed.”

He scoffed, grinning, and leaned his forearms on the counter. “Not for me, Archeron.”

She rolled her eyes again but couldn’t help her smirk when she told him, “It late and I’m busy. Care to tell me why you’re here?” Feyre looked at him expectantly.

Cassian just grinned. “Do I need a reason to visit my very successful, very talented friend?”

“Wow, such flattery, Cassian. What exactly are you trying to get me to agree to?” She raised an eyebrow, trying to reign in a smirk.

He flashed her a wolfish grin. “Convince your sister to go out with me.”

Feyre snorted. “I don’t think you’re Elain’s type.”

“You’re hilarious, Archeron.” Cassian deadpanned and rolled his eyes, “Come on, Fey. Talk me up to Nesta.”

Feyre sighed, closing her sketchbook, and resigning herself to not getting anymore work done tonight. “Cass, I’ve done all I can on that front, believe me. You’ll have to win her over all on your own.”

“Been trying that for years.” He grumbled then ran a hand through his hair.

“I know that isn’t why you’re here,” Feyre insisted, “you ask me to do that literally every time you see me, so I know you didn’t seek me out for that. What’s up?”

He shot her a grin that made his single dimple stand out as he glanced at the door to the parlor. “Az is on his way over with Rhys and we were hoping you would do us a favor.”

“A favor?” she asked skeptically.

Cassian kept grinning. “You see, baby Arche,” Feyre snorted at the nickname. “your idiot boyfriend made a bet that he never stood a chance of winning, and he lost. Horribly.”

“Okay…” she rubbed at her face, trying to steel herself for whatever she was about to hear. Cassian’s shit-eating grin wasn’t making Feyre feel any better.

“Az and I want you to tattoo a little something special on Rhys for us.”

She paused, halting her shuffling of her sketches and furrowed her brows. “You want me to tattoo something on Rhys…because he lost a bet?”

“Yes.”

“Does Rhys know this?”

A slow smirk spread across Cass’s face, “He knows he’s coming to see you.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Cassian, why would I agree to tattoo something—you haven’t even said what it is, by the way—onto my boyfriend when he obviously doesn’t even know what’s happening?”

“Well,” Cass pointed out, “I’d hope he’d realize what was happening once you sat him in the chair and got your needles and ink out.”

She snorted, “You know what I mean.”

“Because, Fey,” He sighed dramatically, “Little Rhysie is a punk and lost a bet so now he has to get a tattoo of our choice. And who better to do it, than his wonderful tattoo artist of a girlfriend?” his grin came back, wider than before.

Feyre said nothing for a moment as she stared Cassian down. Then she asked, “How drunk is he?”

Cassian chuckled, “Very.”

Feyre smiled slowly, “And how drunk are you?”

He narrowed his eyes at her but lifted his fingers to show a small space between his thumb and pointer finger. “Just a little bit.”

“So, a lot.” Feyre corrected

Cassian was silent a moment before grinning, “Rhys bet that he could outdrink me.”

Feyre blinked, then clutched the counter as she bent over laughing. She heard Cassian’s loud chortles next to her a moment later. When she stood back up, she wiped a tear from her eye and shook her head.

“Oh, my gods,” She was still chuckling, trying to picture Rhys go shot for shot with the mass of a man standing in front of her. “I love him, but sometimes he’s such an idiot.”

“I think you mean all the time.”

Just then, the bell on the door jingled again and Azriel held it open with one arm as he gripped a stumbling Rhys with the other.

“Hi, Feyre.” Azriel nodded at her as the door shut behind him.

“Hey, Az” She chuckled and walked towards the pair. “Can you lock that? Thanks.”

“Feyre, darling!” Rhys suddenly beamed and stumbled towards her, stepping close enough that she could smell every shot he’d taken on his breath. He used both hands to gently cup her face, squishing her cheeks in little and pressing a sloppy but sweet kiss to her lips. “I missed you.”

She smiled at him but stepped back to avoid his breath. “I saw you a few hours ago.”

He pouted, “That’s too long. I’ve had to look at those two ugly faces all night when I could’ve been looking at your dazzling one.”

“Why does he have to insult us when he compliments her?” Cass grumbled to Azriel who looked mildly amused.

He snorted. “Perspective.”

Feyre removed herself from Rhys’ grip only for him to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her into his side. She leaned into his touch, and helped keep him standing, as she rested her head on his shoulder as she faced Azriel.

“Az, can you fill me in? Cassian tried, but I don’t know how much I trust his story.”

Cassian feigned hurt and shook his head. “Fey, I am wounded that you doubt me.”

Azriel’s explanation had been essentially the same as Cassian’s with a few more details and a little less slurring of words. She’d rolled her eyes but told them to wait in the lobby while she took Rhys back to her studio.

Feyre had no intention of actually tattooing her very intoxicated boyfriend just because he and his brothers had made a stupid bet. He’d have to be completely sober before she agreed to that.

Guiding Rhys into her back room, she waited until he was sitting on the edge of her large, leather chair before moving to stand between his spread legs. His hands instantly found her waist and she rested her palms on his thighs.

Quirking a brow at her boyfriend, Feyre asked, “Did you actually think you could out drink Cassian?”

Rhys scoffed, “I’m just as big as he is, why shouldn’t I have been able to do it?”

Feyre smirked as Rhys pouted. “Babe, you may be fit,” she huffed a laugh at his raised brow, “okay, fine, extremely fit, but Cass is a tank. And he’s a bartender. There’s no possible way you could’ve won that bet.”

Rhys kept pouting, flexing his fingers over her hips, “You’re supposed to be on my side, Darling.”

She laughed and pecked him on the cheek. “I am, always.” She kissed his lips for good measure. “But I’m going to tease you when you’re being an idiot.”

He used his grip on her hips to pull her towards him for an actual kiss. Feyre stayed wrapped in his arms for as long as she could stand his horrid tequila-drenched breath. Letting her arms loop around his neck and her fingers tangle in his hair, Feyre pulled back.

Rhys let his forehead droop onto her chest and Feyre had the distinct feeling that it was less about the warm comfort of her skin and more about an excuse for Rhys to press his face into her breasts.

“I don’t hear any needles buzzing back there, Fey!” Cassian bellowed from the lobby area. She snorted at the clear sound of a hand hitting someone’s head and the following curse.

She rolled her eyes but kept playing with Rhys’ hair as he mumbled something too muffled for her to understand.

“What was that?” she asked.

Raising his face, he looked at her and winced. “Are you actually going to tattoo me?”

She snickered at the disdain on his features.

“Maybe I should,” she teased, “to teach you a lesson making ridiculous bets.”

Rhys winked. “you can teach me a lesson anytime, Darling.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and was about to retort back when Cassian yelled again, “Baby Arche! We’re not paying you to make out back there!”

She snorted and hollered, “You’re not paying me at all! I’m getting there, don’t rush me.”

Azriel’s voice came next, “We didn’t bring your intoxicated man-child here so the two of you could get it on in the back parlor.”

Rhys snorted and replied back, “You say that like it’s never happened.”

“Rhys.” She hissed, smacking his arm as he chuckled.

“Gross,” two voices audibly gagged from the other room. “You’d better sanitize back there!”

A pause, then a disgusted Cassian said, “You’ve tattooed me on that chair, I don’t want to know what you sickos have done to it.”

Feyre and Rhys snickered before she said, “You might want to avoid the front couch then, too.”

Rhys, still grinning, added, “And the check-out counter—”

“—and the bathroom sink!” Feyre finished.

“Heathens.” Azriel muttered.

Rhys and Feyre laughed at their friends’ obvious disgust.

“I don’t need to hear any more of this,” Cassian insisted. “Ever.”

Feyre rolled her eyes and turned on her machine, allowing the steady buzz of the needle to flow into the waiting area; Cassian’s loud whoop telling her the sound was loud enough.

She carefully set the device on her counter and let the buzz echo through the room as she turned towards a small drawer and pulled out a colorful packet.

Rhys raised an eyebrow at the needle she clearly wasn’t prepping to use on him and watched as she flipped through the pages of whatever she was holding.

She paused on a page and grinned, flipping it around for him to see.

“Do you want a flying bat or one that’s hanging upside down?”

Rhys blinked. Twice. He slowly grinned back at his clever girlfriend as she handed him the sheet of temporary, press-on tattoos.

They were cartoonish-looking designs; the ones made for children that you could use a wet cloth to press onto your skin. He flipped through the rest of the pages to see a variety of other animals and plants, all ready to be cut out and used.

“Is my only choice a bat?” He grinned, looking back up at Feyre to see her already grabbing a scissor and paper towel.

She snorted. “That was what your brothers insisted on.” She took back the packet and carefully cut out the two bats. “They may be drunk enough to think a press-on is a real tattoo, but I don’t know if they’d accept anything else.”

When she held up both bat options for him, he nodded towards the one with outstretched wings. Feyre wet the paper towels and pushed his sleeve up to reveal his toned forearm. After making sure his skin was clean and dry, she gently pressed the bat onto his skin and covered the design with the wet paper towel, allying pressure to keep the image steady.

Rhys reached over with his free hand and grabbed the packet again. “Why do you have these? Besides for saving your boyfriend from a stupid bet?” he finished with a wide grin.

She laughed, still pressing firmly on the tattoo. “I keep them for the kids.”

At his raised brow she rolled her eyes. “Sometimes my clients can’t help but have their kids with them, so I keep the press-ons for those who see their parents and insist they get a tattoo, too.” She snorted at some memory. “I used to have washable markers for them to use but then a few of them would walk out of here looking like some avant-garde painting, so I switched to these. It’s adorable when they hold their cartoon dragon next to their parent’s actual ink.”

Rhys chuckled and Feyre lifted her hand, slowly peeling back the sticky paper to reveal a cute, flying bat.

He flexed his arm, grinning as the movement made the bat’s wings look as if they were flying. “How do I look?”

She leaned in to inspect the bat, making a show of darting between the cartoon and his real tattoos trailing down his arm. “Hmm, I think maybe when you’re sober, I should actually ink this onto you.”

Her grin made him laugh. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss next to the bat, careful not to brush it, and he smiled as she looked back at him.

“How’s it going?” Az’s low voice carried from the front room, making Feyre chuckle and Rhys huff.

She leaned over and expertly turned off the still-buzzing needle before calling back, “Just finished!”

Rhys brought his arm up and laughed again at the small, cheery bat placed between his darker swirls of years-old markings. He locked eyes with Feyre again as she put her supplies away and moved to stand once again between his legs. “You think they’ll buy it?”

She snorted, “Probably not.” She laughed again at his sullen expression. “But I don’t think the bet ever specified the tattoo having to be real.”

Rhys’ grin returned in full force as he brought his hands to Feyre’s face and guided her lips towards his. “You, Darling, are spectacular.”

Laughing again, Feyre leaned out of his reach. “And you, babe, still have horrible breath.”

Rhys rolled his eyes but loosened his grip as she stepped out of his arms, taking her hand as she led them back towards the front lobby.

“Come on,” she said over her shoulder, winking, “let’s show them your new tattoo.”

*****

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

Text

tattoo artist sukuna

I am way overdo to get my sleeve finished and I’m already itching to get a full back piece, so this is right up my alley. Gender neutral reader, and if you’d like to see the tattoo style i reference please go to @/novchild.jpg on instagram :)

It was a spur of the moment decision that led you to drive downtown with your friends at nearly midnight, drunk off each other's energy and eager to do something reckless. Speeding down the motorway, you scrolled through Instagram in search of a tattoo artist.

“Are you guys sure about this?” Your nerves had finally caught up to you as the car was parked in front of the studio you all chose. It was a typical brick and mortar building with a large skull painted on the only window to the outside world. There were a few bald men smoking cigarettes right outside the door, scrawling ink covering their exposed hands and faces.

“Yeah, c’mon!” No one waited for you, everyone climbing out of the car in excitement. Slowly, you got out of the car as well, head down as you walked past the men and into the shop.

Loud, blaring metal music met your ears, jarring you upright and tense. There wasn’t anyone you could see at the front desk, the only workers were huddled in a back corner leaning over something and laughing.

“Which one should I get?” Your attention was drawn away from the men in the corner and to the art hanging on the wall, all different flash sheets from various artists. Some were more gory, clearly drawing inspiration from horror movies while other pieces were bright and colorful, like bubblegum pop come to life.

“Hey.” A gruff voice cut through the loud music, and a man was now leaning against the front desk, spiky black hair in a ponytail with a bored look on his face and several piercings in both ears. He was clearly sizing you up, the black bar going across his nose moving as he did.

Unprepared to speak to him, you were happy when someone else stepped in and started chatting about prices. The man at the counter had on a hoodie with the sleeves rolled up, exposing one full arm and hand that was completely blacked out.

“Choso, any customers?” Another shouted, a man wide in stature with long hair. He sauntered up to the counter, tight black t-shirt showing off the traditional Japanese work covering every inch of skin.

“Getou, can’t you see?” Choso rolled his eyes and gestured to your little group.

“I can’t make conversation?” Pulling a face at Choso, Getou leaned his elbows on the counter and flashed a wide grin at all of you. “So, who’s the first to get some ink?” His narrowed eyes looked over your bare skin and you could see the wheels turning in his head.

“I am! I want that one!” One of your friends pointed at the wall, making Getou hum and nod.

“That’s Gojo’s work, he loves to draw the cute shit. I’ll call him over.” As a white haired man walked over at Geto’s call, one by one your friends made their decisions and were paired with artists.

“What did you choose, (Y/N)?” A friend asked, seeing you still stuck staring at the wall.

“I don’t know!” Throwing your head back, you were beginning to regret even tagging along. There were simply too many options and the task of picking something was daunting.

“Having a hard time choosing?” A flash of white crosses your vision and soon Gojo is leaning down into your field of vision, piercing blue eyes staring at you curiously.

“U-uh yeah.” Stumbling back from how close his face is, you realize how tall he is when he stands up straight, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Me and another guy just got done making a new flash sheet, lemme show you.” It takes him only a couple seconds to go back to his station and come back with a piece of thick paper with drawings on it.

Taking the paper, the drawings were unexpectedly cute. A lot of them looked like rough sketches or crayon drawings, simple in concept but intricate in detail.

“I’ll take this one.” Pointing at a mid-sized crayon drawing, your mouth ticked up in a smile as Gojo took the paper from you with sparkling eyes.

“That one is so cute, good choice! One sec!” Tossing the paper down, he dashes away shouting nonsensical words towards the back of the shop where they’d all been huddled up. “Sukuna! Someones here for ya!”

Rising straight up from a chair with a loud groan, a shirtless pink haired man glared sharply at Gojo. Even from a distance you can see the sharp black lines tattooed across his face and down his body, circles on each shoulder, dashed lines across his chest down his stomach and around his wrists as well.

“Geez you can really yell, you know that?” Running a hand through his hair roughly, Sukuna stands up, flexing his muscles and unknowingly giving the whole shop a show of his chiseled physique.

“There’s a client here to get a piece we made together earlier.” Shoving the paper in his face, Gojo points to the piece you selected. Sukuna mumbles a few words and sets his eyes on you, walking over with a swagger that makes you nervous.

“Alright, where do you want it?” Leaning close to you, Sukuna quirks a brow.

“I don’t know.” You sigh softly, looking down at your arms and legs. “I don’t-”

“Your arm, right here.” Grabbing onto your arm, Sukuna turns it outward to expose the flesh of your inner arm. “It would look good right here, about the size of my palm.”

“O-oh okay.” Nodding quickly, your face is burning when he lets go. His touch still lingered on your skin, the edge of his black painted fingernails digging in briefly as they squeezed you.

“I’ll be ready in ten minutes, go sign the paperwork.” Sukuna speaks with his back to you, already walking to the station he had been sleeping at and setting up. Rushing to fill in the proper papers, you wait nervously at the front of the shop for your turn.

The rest of your friends are already getting started, the whir of the tattoo machines adding to the ambience of the shop. With a wave Sukuna calls you over to his corner, still shirtless with a pair of gloves on.

“Hold out your arm.” Grabbing you once again, Sukuna angles your arm in front of a mirror by the table. Rubbing ointment on your skin, he sticks the stencil on and rubs firmly, making you squirm from the tickle of his hand getting close to your armpit.

“What do you think?” Stepping to the side, he looks at you in the mirror. “Little to the left? Right?”

“No, it’s perfect.” The longer you look at it, the longer you love it. Giving you a pat on the shoulder, Sukuna led you to the table, having you lay down and stick your arm out.

“This your first one, I can tell.” He said, adjusting your body how he seemed fit and rubbing more ointment on you.

“It’s that obvious?”

“Oh yeah, only a first timer would get something like this from me.” A cocky grin spread across his face and he gestured to the wall behind your head, covered in realistic black and white portraits. “This is normally my speciality.”

“You drew yourself?” Pointing up at one of the pictures that looked exactly like him minus the face tattoos, you chuckled.

“Nah, that’s my twin.” Your brows rose in surprise and you looked between Sukuna and the picture.

“Does he have-?” You waved over your face and body.

“He’s too scared to get a tattoo, says he’ll get ink poisoning and die.” Sukuna laughed, pouring out the various colored ink into little cups. “Won’t even let me do a tiny dot on him!”

“Safe to say you two are pretty different then.” You found yourself laughing a little as well, eased at Sukunas laid back nature.

“Mhmm, he’s busy going on the straight and narrow while I’m here ‘ruining my body’ as our grandpa likes to say.” Flashing quick air quotes, Sukuna revs up the machine and fiddles with the buttons. “Alright, you ready for this? Won’t have virgin skin anymore after this.”

“Yes!” Clenching and unclenching your fist, you pushed a deep breath through your mouth.

“If you start to cry, I won’t stop. And if you pass out, I’ll just wake you up.” That was his final warning before he leaned forward, using one large gloved hand to spread the skin of your arm taut.

The first prick of the needle against your skin made you jolt, sucking in a sharp breath and making your eyes fly open. Sukuna snorted, wiped your arm with a towel and kept going. Honing in on the marks and exposed pipes in the ceiling, you tried not to twitch from the needle anymore.

“You’re doing pretty well.” Sukuna mumbled, briefly sitting up and dipping in for more ink.

“Really?” Taking a look at the tattoo, you were surprised to see only one line had been done. It felt like at least three were placed into you.

“Yeah, don’t screw it up.” Sticking his tongue out at you, Sukuna went back to work. Transfixed on watching him, you saw the lines go into your skin, overflowing with ink and being wiped away repeatedly. You were also watching the way Sukuna’s arms flexed, the muscles in his body all on display right in front of you.

“Tell me about yourself while you stare at me.” Sukuna said, not looking up from your arm. Immediately, your head whipped away from him and a deep burn ran over your face. Sukuna laughed at your embarrassment, patting your arm with the paper towel a few times.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re not the first one to do it.” That didn’t make it any better. Slapping a hand over your face, you let out an unintelligible noise from the back of your throat.

“Just great.”

“It’s okay to say you have a crush on me, a lot of people that come to the shop do.”

“Sukuna!” Laughing through the shame, you glanced over at him.

“Hey, it’s the truth.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Well can you blame them when you’re built like that?” Feeling emboldened by the late night hour, you took a rather obvious look at Sukuna’s body. With only a pair of sweatpants on, you could see nearly all the tattoos he had.

“Aw thanks doll, I work out.” Sukuna shot a wink at you, briefly flexing both arms and making you blush again. “But enough about me, what about you? What made you come here so late at night?”

“My friends and I wanted to do something spontaneous.” Returning your gaze to the ceiling, the ache from the tattoo gun was beginning to settle into your skin. “And what better way to be spontaneous than to get a tattoo?”

“Ha, I hear that.”

“Why’d you get the ones on your face and stuff?”

“Thought they’d make me look cool, and I was right.” Giggling at his honesty, you quickly nodded in agreement.

“The ones on your face, did they hurt really bad?”

“The ones near my eyes yeah, those hurt the most. But thankfully Choso has a steady hand, so it didn’t last too long.”

Absentmindedly, you ran your fingers over your own face, drawing along the edge of your jaw and eye socket. There was no way you could get your face tattooed as heavily as Sukuna had, if at all ever. You had only just now gotten used to the pain of the needle on your arm and you were still twitching every so often.

“How’re you holding up so far?” Sukuna whispers close to your ear ten quiet minutes later. He’s completely focused on tattooing you yet his face is close enough that if you leaned up a little, you could graze his hair with your nose.

“Fine.” You whisper back, suddenly feeling awkward with the low tone of his voice.

“That’s good doll, real good.” His voice dropped even lower, overcompensating for the song ending over the stereo speakers. Trying not to stare at his serious expression, you look over at the other stations. Gojo is chatting up your friend excitedly, and there’s a number of colorful inks laid out before him. Choso and Geto are hard at work as well, with Choso pointedly not speaking, and a blonde man you’d noticed drinking a large mug of black coffee earlier with his button up sleeve rolled up to reveal two dragons on his forearms.

Just as the pain in your arm was starting to truly burn, the tattoo was over. Sukuna washed it down gently, patting your arm and humming to the song playing. Sitting up with a short grunt, he flicked his head to the mirror.

“Go ahead and take a look.”

Sliding slowly off the table, you held your arm out awkwardly and stood in front of the mirror. Your arm was slightly swollen and stinging, shoulder stiff from being in the same position for so long, but a smile spread on your cheeks.

“I love it.” It looked exactly like the picture: a crayon style drawing of a brown haired girl in a giant green frog, a big pout on her lips while the frog sat on a lily pad.

“Lemme snap a couple quick photos before I wrap you up.” Already with his phone out, Sukuna was quick at taking pictures, posing you like when he’d put the stencil on. “I’ll run down the aftercare stuff with you, also give you a card in case you forget any of it.”

You didn’t hear a thing he said about aftercare. Standing nearly chest to chest with Sukuna while he rubbed ointment on your skin and wrapped your tattoo up, the way his arms nearly wrapped around you to put the cover on, the gentle touch of his fingers pressing medical tape to your skin, even the way he was breathing softly and looking at you - it all had you distracted.

“Alright, you’re all done.” Sukuna patted your arm, breaking you from your trance.

“Thank you so much!” Looking down at your tightly bandaged arm, you could feel the intense heat radiating out of it. You quickly snapped your own picture of the bandage as Sukuna dug around in a drawer.

“And since I could tell you were zoning the fuck out just now, I wrote my number down on the aftercare sheet, so text me if you have any questions.” Holding the paper out to you, Sukuna had indeed scribbled his phone number on the paper in thick black marker.

“Can I really just text you?” Taking the paper hesitantly, you fiddled with it in your hands.

“Of course! I want your tattoo to heal well!” Sukuna nodded, throwing his arms out dramatically. Waiting for you to gather your stuff, he walked you to the front of the shop. “Text me anytime doll, I stay up late.” He whispered right before you got to the front counter, making your jaw drop and ears burn.

“(Y/N), you really got a girl in a frog?” A friend laughed, a bandage wrapped around their thigh.

“It’s cute!” You defended it, holding your arm close to your body.

“The cutest fucking one.” Sukuna added on, slapping the counter and pointing at everyone.

“Aren’t you cold without a shirt on?” Choso mumbled, typing away on his phone in the corner.

“No ‘cause I’m not anemic like you are.”

“It’s still cold outside.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s cold in here!” The two of them quickly devolved into petty squabble, giving each other light hearted shoves in the shoulder while Geto collected the money from everyone.

“Bye, thank you so much!” You all called out as you left, waving goodbye and shrugging your jackets back on.

“I’ll be waiting for that text, doll!” Sukuna shouted right as you stepped out, blowing you a kiss when you whipped your head over your shoulder in shock.

“Text? Were you flirting with him?” A slew of curious looks were thrown your way, making your shock even worse.

“N-no!” You stuttered and immediately grimaced at it, face getting warmer as you climbed into the car. “We were just talking while he tattooed me, he just wants to make sure it heals right.”

“Mhmm, whatever you say. Let’s go to the drive through now, Geto told me to eat something after getting tattooed!”

“Hey check Sukuna’s Instagram story, he already posted your tattoo (Y/N)!”

“Really?” Rushing to pull out your phone, it was indeed true. Sukuna had posted one of the pictures he took of your arm, a few silly frog gifs surrounding it, with the caption ‘painted a pretty doll with a pretty frog, hope they come back for more xx’.

“You two were definitely flirting!” Shouts resounded in the car, everyone giggling wildly at the caption. Giggling along with them, you quickly typed a message to Sukuna.

(Y/N): hey Sukuna this is (Y/N). Thanks again for the frog! And the picture you posted on your story looks really good :)

(Sukuna): no problem doll

(Sukuna): next time you want a tattoo, text me and i’ll draw up whatever you want

“Sukuna said he wanted to tattoo me again!” You announced to your friends, all of them oohing and crowding around your phone. “What should I say?”

“I’ll do it!” Someone snatched your phone before you could say anything, rapidly shooting off a message and tossing the device back to you.

(Y/N): are you free tomorrow?

“He’s not gonna-” Right as you were beginning to shake your head and type another message, he replied.

(Sukuna): for you? of course

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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just-a-quirkless-loser · 3 years

Text

You Are More Than Enough ⚡️🧱

Alpha Kirishima x F! Beta Reader x Alpha Kaminari

Requested by @lizwello

Words: 4K

Summary: Your two alphas, Kaminari and Kirishima, ease your insecurities due to your Beta status

⚠️NSFW⚠️

(Not my art. Please credit the artist if you know their handle💕)

Biology failed you; instead of having a mouthwatering scent like an Omega or the strong presence of an Alpha, you were born a Beta. That means that you were normally the third choice for everyone (even for your fellow Betas).

Your entire life you’ve always felt like a secondary character in the lives of your friends (which was somewhat expected but it still hurt) and even yourself. Your omega friends were being courted while your alpha friends were doing the courting. Where did that leave you? Alone. Unwanted.

Media and schooling has a lot to do with your low self-confidence. Betas make up 90% of the population yet, alphas and omegas are the ones that get the glory. The media portrays the alpha as a possessive lover over the meek, submissive omega. The media romanticizes it so much that it becomes the ideal relationship. The media doesn’t show Betas being with omegas or alphas. No, Betas must mate with Betas.

Sometimes, there are exceptions to everything. Alphas can be with alphas. Omegas can be with Betas. Omegas can be with Omegas (it’s rare but it has happened once before). Naturally, you expected you’d end up with another Beta. How could you not?

It makes sense; from a biological standpoint, omegas bodies and pheromones are meant for an alpha. Alphas knots are meant to be taken by an omega’s sweet body.

Shiketsu High School was a relatively peaceful school (which was completely different from U.A. when you had been in attendance). You had graduated at the top of your class, alongside Inasa, and had been invited to join All Might’s hero agency. You supposed it was only a matter of time before pro-heroes started to approach you with job opportunities given your quirk.

Born with the power of fear manipulation, you’d think you had a better grip of your own fears. Everyday, you went into the minds of villains and used their weaknesses against them however, you never thought about your own. You didn’t fear anything physical so, you suppose you’d call your fear mental-maybe emotional. A fear of not being good enough.

So, when you started the job, you were fearful of what to expect. How would your co-workers treat you? Would anyone be interested in you?

You know you may sound desperate but you can’t help it. Maybe it was the lack of experience from your youth or your pessimistic view of the world but, you wanted the same love you saw around you. After all, isn’t that what everyone wants? To feel loved?

Your first day at All Might’s agency was something you’ll never forget. He wanted you there early so you could meet your comrades before they started their patrolling. You remember how he dwarfed you even in his skinny stature.

“Do you have any questions?” His hand was softly ushering you into one of the debriefing rooms. “Don’t be afraid to ask. Anything to do with your quirk? Or, maybe work hours? Or-“

“Sir, I think you’re more nervous than I am,” perhaps it’s because he’s an alpha. It’s his preposition to fret about the health and comfort of others.

“Sorry,” he laughs and rubs the back of his neck, cerulean eyes glancing down at you. “Young Midoriya always tells me I’m like a mother hen. I just want you to feel comfortable. Most of everyone that works here went to U.A. so I know you may feel singled out.”

A silence was the only response he got; you’d be damned if you ever said anything for him or anyone else to pity you. You didn’t get to be this strong because of pity.

“EVERYONE, GATHER AROUND. THE NEW HERO IS HERE,” everyone came rushing in with their colorful costumes on display. The pro-hero ‘Deku’ was the first to greet you in an excited frenzy.

“Y/N, I’m Deku. Well, Izuku Midoriya but everyone calls me Deku. What’s your quirk? All Might wouldn’t tell us,” you know notice the notebook he holds in his hand.

“Why do you need to know? You want to know my weaknesses?” You quirk your brow and feel your guard going back up. Behind you, All Might was noticing your combative attitude, noting it will definitely take a while for you to fit in.

“Wha-no, no, no. Nothing like that. I-I just wanted to know,” he’s sputtering when a brown-haired woman comes to his side.

“You’ll have to excuse Deku. He just gets excited about quirks. He’s documented all of ours so he can analyze them and give us suggestions to help us reach our greatest potential,” the woman smiles at the blubbering greenette. “I’m Uraraka.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“Stop hogging her,” it’s like time started lagging. Your eyes fell on a blonde with a fringe, his fringe having a black light night strip. He’s lean in stature but, his eyes are the type of honey blonde that could stop anyone in their tracks (although it’s a shame he’s wearing blue tinted glasses that simmer the color). “Woah.”

“Woah?” You cross your arms across your chest.

“Yes, woah. You’re beautiful,” you turn bright red. “And, responsive. You smell good too.”

The next moment he’s stuck on your neck, pulling you by the back of your head so he can expose more of your scent to his nose. Your mouth waters at how good he smells as well.

“DENKI! You can’t go around smelling and scenting people without their permission,” from what you can see, the man admonishing the alpha on your neck has fire engine red eyes and bright red hair. You can catch glimpses of his sharp teeth when he speaks but your mind focuses on his lips. You look further down to see his torso exposed, body hard with muscle. “Woah.”

“This is Y/N. The new hero I was telling you all about last week. Please treat her with respect and make her feel at home,” All Might was smiling down at you.

“I’m Kirishima. The one scenting you is Kaminari,” you just nod till Kaminari is finished and let’s go. Even if it’s only for a second, Kirishima replaces Kaminari’s place on your body, fogging your mind up once again. You want to whine at the strong scents but you keep that to yourself. They’re probably just playing with you.

“Both of you, give her some space,” All Might’s demand is enough for them to take a few steps back but, you can still smell them as if they’re still on you. “You okay, Y/N?”

“I’m fine.”

And, you were fine for a while till, you kept getting closer with the two alphas that scented you on your first day. You knew they were special. They were close, not mates but, close enough for anyone that didn’t know them to think so. You couldn’t tell what their relationship was but, they welcomed you into their duo with no questions asked, making their duo a trio.

“She’s the one,” even without knowing you for long, Kirishima can tell you’re meant for him and Kaminari.

“Just look at how perfect she is,” Denki fawns at you from across the room. “She doesn’t smile much. Luckily, I have so many jokes for her,” Kirishima facepalms as Kaminari gives him his signature thumbs up.

“I have a feeling you’re going to drive her up a tree, aren’t you?” Kaminari nods. “Well, at least make sure you don’t push her too much.”

“I won’t, scouts honor. Sooo, which one of us is going to ask her out?” Kaminari already has a few ideas of how to ask her but he doubts Kirishima will trust him with speaking to her without scenting her for the next few times he encounters her.

“I think we both know I’ll be the one to ask her. We need to get her familiar with us before you start sending shocks up her legs,” they both smirk at the pun.

And, so, an unlikely (in your opinion) friendship began to form between you, Kaminari, and Kirishima. Both alphas pursued you no matter how much you insisted their efforts would be appreciated somewhere else. Albeit, you did enjoy the attention they gave you.

“Y/N, come here so we can cuddle,” you barely have any time to yourself as they both grab you and tuck you under their arm (truthfully, you don’t mind the attention). Either you sit on their lap willingly or they’ll grab you and put you there on their own accord.

It doesn’t take much time for them to ask for your friendship to be morphed into something more. Despite your outward disparity, you’re elated when they ask you to be with them. Maybe it’s because you’re selfish and wouldn’t be able to bare them treating someone else the way they’ve treated you.

‘Pro-Heroes ‘Chargebolt’ and ‘Red Riot’ Take New Beta Hero ‘Y/N’ As A Mate.’ The press had a field day when you first confirmed the rumors circulating about what was going on amongst the three of you. Some approved the relationship while most asked the obvious question: Why were eligible alphas such as Chargebolt and Red Riot wasting their time on a Beta?

It just didn’t make much sense. They had the cream of the crop, omegas throwing themselves at the heroes left and right, matchmakers contacting them to find them an omega for free. Hell, some even tried to discredit them as alphas, saying they had to settle for a Beta. That type of response made you weary (well, you’d always been weary no matter how much they tried to dispel your fears).

They made sure to take you out every other day, sometimes they’d do individual dates but most of the time it was the three of you. Their embraces always made you comfortable, almost like you belonged with them. However, you still couldn’t ignore that inkling in your mind that made you doubt the likelihood of your relationship.

Your doubts often consumed your thoughts, which pissed Kaminari and Kirishima off to no end.

Kaminari was much more direct with his approach to your insecurities. He’d talk your ear off, send a few shocks to your core, and give you a faux innocent smile. “You’re so perfect for us, Y/N. There’s no need to be scared that you’re not enough.”

Surprisingly, Kirishima is something else entirely in his wake to assure you. He’s dominant and domineering (which often ends up with you on your belly with your ass up as he spanks his words into your mind). It’s like night and day between the two of them. “Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you you’re meant for us? Or, maybe you like being spanked like this?”

Eventually, you move in with them. It seemed natural at the time to be with them in that aspect so you could be with them every moment of the day. However, you still have your reservations.

One day, you’re sitting on the couch in the living room watching some rom com when an advertisement pops on the screen. You knew you should’ve turned the channel but, you couldn’t help yourself as you felt enticed by what they were selling.

Created specifically for Betas, a perfume that will make your scent more enticing to alphas. The perfect way to capture the attention of that special alpha you’ve been wanting. Guaranteed happiness for both you and your partner. How could you not put in an order for the scent?

You didn’t really think it out, didn’t consider that Kaminari and Kirishima adore the way you smell. You just wanted to make them happy and you thought this was the easiest way.

It took two long months for the perfume to be shipped out and one more month for it to be mailed to the correct address (apparently, a lot of other Betas had the same idea as yourself). The stuff was expensive, coming in at thirty-one thousand yen a bottle.

‘This shit better work. I could’ve bought so much food with that money,’ you stare at the bottle as you contemplate whether or not you should really do it. ‘If this doesn’t work, they’ll be really pissed off.’

“Kirishima will be home early, SparkPlug. I have to stay behind for a mission. You sure you’ll be okay alone?” Kaminari had your face between his hands and your foreheads rested against one another’s.

“Yes, Sparky. I’ll be fine. Go do your job,” you were going to enjoy this day off. You had worked double shifts the past month for this moment.

He smirked, slowly brought your lips to his, and shocked you with his tongue, making your eyes dilate. “Be a good girl for us while we’re gone.”

He left and you were not a good girl. You spent the whole day dousing yourself in the perfume (i.e. you literally dumped half the bottle into some bath water so it could fuse with your skin). You even bought a new babydoll negligee for when they came home. So, when Kirishima walked through the front door, you were walking around in your silk robe.

“Kiri, babe I missed you,” you were waiting for him on the side of the door, legs exposed and your creamy skin distracting him for a few moments.

“I-Uh missed you too, RockCandy,” he lifts you into his large arms, nuzzling your neck. He’s always called you RockCandy since he picked up the habit from Fatgum. “W-what is that smell?” Kirishima’s nose twitched at the obnoxious sweet scent that seemed to ooze out of your pores.

“It’s a new perfume. How does it smell?” You were optimistic that he’d like it. That would mean that Kaminari would enjoy it too. And, that would mean that you could finally please them.

“Sweetheart, honey, baby, love-“

“Just spit it out.”

“I hate it,” Kirishima rubs your back to comfort you.

“Oh,” you rest your head on his shoulder, wanting to cry. “Well, I’ll go take a shower.”

You walk off before he can stop you, storming to the bathroom where the first thing you did was throw that stupid fucking bottle of lousy perfume in the small trash can near your bed.

You’re pretty sure you heard the negligee rip a bit with how hard you pulled it off of your body and hopped into the shower.

You’re crying out of frustration. Why did you think that was going to work? Were you really that desperate with changing yourself that you really did that? Who in their right mind does-

“Beta, what is this?”

Huh?

“What the fuck is this?” You peep your head from behind the curtain to see Kirishima holding the scent change bottle.

“Uh it-it’s...y-you know! It’s on the damn bottle Kiri!” He grabs your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks together.

“What did you just say to me?” Kirishima’s face was close, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Are you challenging me, baby?”

“Nooooo, no. Definitely not trying to challenge you at all. I’m just frustrated,” you pout.

“That pout isn’t gonna help you. You think it’s okay to cuss at me just because you're frustrated?” You shake your head. “You think it’s okay to change yourself?”

You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, you can deny it but he’s seen the proof. On the other hand, you can come clean however, you doubt that you’ll get away with this unscathed. What to do?

“I just wanted to be better for the both of you. I know that I don’t smell the best and I know that you both could’ve done better,” you sniffle.

“Y/N, get your ass in that shower and wash that shit off. I wanna smell what’s mine. Better hurry. Kaminari is on his way home,” you jump to action. You’re scrubbing your body with a loofa (it’s most likely one of your alphas). Apparently, he’s not gonna give you any sympathy.

Kirishima sits on the toilet beside the shower, watching you like a hawk. Whenever you scrub between your legs, he licks his lips and his sharp teeth are exposed. He notices you staring at them and runs his teeth along the top.

You want to draw the shower out but, you know Kirishima will pull you out once he knows that you are milking it. Plus, you want to get out before Kaminari gets home.

You step out into the cold air and you’re wrapped in a towel by Kiri. His arms keep you caged against his broad chest, making you melt at the contact. The towel is the only thing separating him from seeing your naked body.

“Kiri, I’ve got to get dressed.”

“No, you get on the bed and take that towel off. I want you on your back with your legs spread, pussy open for me to eat. I’m sure Kaminari would love that too,” he pushes you forward, spanking your ass before you're completely away from his touch.

So, yeah that’s how you ended up in that position, waiting for Kaminari to get home while Kirishima was leaving bite marks on your inner thighs. You grip the sheets while your face contorts with pleasure, his mouth dangerously close to the place you need him most but still denying you the pleasure you want.

“Ohhh, Sparkplug, you couldn’t wait for me to get home?” You didn’t even hear the front door open as Kaminari came home. He sniffed as he crossed the threshold, something disgusting in the air, but he quickly tossed that aside when he heard your moans.

Just imagine how good it felt for him to see you on your shared bed, pussy glistening with juices that he knows will soon be his meal, nipples pointing to the sky, face so beautiful and pleasured.

“Kami, guess what our little girl did this time?” You tense a bit.

“Must have been something good for this type of treatment,” Kaminari shed his clothes as he stepped further into the room, clothes beneath him as he settled next to Kirishima, spreading your legs even further to accommodate both of them.

“Quite the opposite. This one decided to change her scent. Fucking nasty. Smelled nothing like her. She tried to change what we like,” and suddenly you're looking into the eyes of two alphas that are ready to punish their mate.

“Did she?”

“I’m sure you smelled it.”

“I did but, I assumed I was just smelling something wrong,” Kaminari drags his pinky against your clit, a small shock making you cry out.

“Daddy, pleaseee,” drool is pooling a bit on the side of your mouth.

“You’re not in any position to ask anything. Now, shush, the alphas are speaking,” you’re flooding the sheets with arousal, wetness slipping down the crack of your ass. “What do you think we should do to her?”

“I say we eat first then fuck her so hard she can’t question anything,” Kirishima has a dark small on his face. “She needs some good ole’ DP therapy.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” they both flatten their tongue and lick on your outer lips at the same time, holding one of your legs on each of their shoulders for some stability. Kaminari’s tongue stiffens to push into your weeping hole while Kirishima nibbles softly on your clit. Their saliva makes you wetter than you already were.

Both groan at the taste of you when they first make contact. Your sweet tang is something neither of them will ever tire of. Both of them hold your legs open as they feast, your juices rushing down their chins as you can feel some of your essence squirt when the pleasure keeps building up. It was hard enough trying not to cum since you didn’t have permission but it seemed like they didn’t care as they didn’t even slow down. They licked up your juice, Kaminari sucking on your clit while Kirishima speared his tongue into your hole, hardening his tongue when he got far enough to touch that special spot within you.

Your legs are shaking, your vision dotted black as they draw away from you, making you think that maybe they will have mercy on you. Not even close. Kaminari laid down on the bed, your juices against his back as Kirishima settled your core over his mouth, essentially putting you in a position to ride Kaminari’s face. His tongue continued its work as Kirishma pushed you over a bit, exposing your backhole to him. He licked his lips with anticipation, thinking about the last time you allowed him to do this.

‘It’s been too long,’ Kirishima thinks to himself as he starts to slowly prod at your asshole with his tongue, his hands spreading your ass so he can push his tongue in further. At the same time, Kaminari sent a spark on your clit, the feeling making you clench your toes as you rocked back onto Kirishima’s tongue.

“Pleaseeee, don’t wanna wait any longer. Please, fuck me,” Kirishima laughed at your begging. “Kiri, pleasee.”

“What’s my name?” Kirishima leaned over to the nightstand beside the bed to pull out some lube, squirting some onto his cock and onto your hole. He knew he would have to prep you, so he slipped one finger into your hole, meeting little resistance. Another two were pushed in and you squealed as you felt his fingers stretch you further. “You’re crying already, baby? I haven’t even got myself in you yet.”

“Daddy, please,” your throat was feeling raw from all the crying you were doing.

“Want your daddies to fuck your slutty holes?” you nodded fervently. “I need vocal confirmation.”

“Fuck your slutty holes! Aghh fuck yes please,” that was enough confimation for Kaminari to slide you down his body, stuffing you full of his cock with no warning, You groaned as you felt Kirishima withdraw his fingers and replace them with his girthy cock, pushing into you inch by inch. You were now panting like a bitch in heat as Kaminari pumped into you, his cock bumping into Kirishima’s within you.

“Fuck, I can feel you bro,” Kaminari didn’t slow down as he kissed your neck and fucked into you. He groaned as Kirishima started to move, pushing in whenever he pulled out. They were working in synchrony.

“Bro, look at our baby. No omega could ever take our knots like this. Isn’t that right?” Kaminari held your throat in his hands, cock pumping your pussy from beneath you.

“So fucking tight baby. Doing a good job for your alphas,” you lean down to kiss him, whining into his mouth as Kirishima spreads your ass to spear his cock into your ass at a deeper angle. Every stroke hits your walls from both holes, making your legs shake at the intensity.

You scream as you feel another orgasm attacking you, its ferocity ripping you apart as you could do nothing but lay there and cry on your alphas cocks. All the sensations were becoming too much as you tried to squirm away, making both alphas grip onto you.

“Don’t fucking run,” Kaminari growled into your ear.

“Where do you think you’re going? You’re gonna lay here and take what we fucking give you,” Kirishima breathed into your ear as he leaned over your body, his sweaty chest on your sweaty back. True to his word, they continued to fuck you through your orgasms, calling you their perfect little slut.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last,” Kaminari was the first to cum in your pussy, making a delicious creamipe from Kirishima’s view. He reached down to your clit, stroking it hard as he groaned.

“One last time baby. I know you can uhahhh fuck fuck yes there ya go baby. All over daddy's cock,” you came over both of them, Kirishima erupting in your ass as he laid down on your back, squishing you between them as their cocks kept their cum in you.

“Don’t ever think you aren’t enough for us. You’ll always be more than enough.”

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