#you can really see me struggle trying to figure out how to draw arcade's hair but i thiiink i finally have it down? we'll see

[worblewobble]

oops! all arcade [ft. courier six]

[tommybaholland]

bnha boys in love [valentine’s edition💗]

featuring: midoriya, bakugo, todoroki, kirishima, kaminari, shinso, amajiki, and dabi

for anyone who might be feeling lonely today, enjoy a lil something from ur fav bnha boy who loves u! 

midoriya is one that gets nervous but tries hard to turn it into excitement when thinking about what he’s going to do for or with you on valentine’s day. as an aspiring hero, he always wants to put a smile on others’ faces and you’re no different. actually, you could be an exception because he loves you and those feelings are different from acts of altruism. rather, he wants to give you something straight from his heart. he’s always wanted to cook dinner for someone else, even after he’s always had his mom make him anything he wanted. he receives some basic guidance for her over the phone but he still has zero clue what he’s doing until kacchan stumbles upon him in the dorm kitchen struggling to cut onions. after some threats, yelling, and lots of arguing, the two manage to make a decent meal, actually a whole spread of food for the night. you’ve never had someone put that much thought or make dinner for you so its absolutely surreal when he presents it to you. the meal itself is really good and the night ends with the you both falling into food comas on the couch, relaxing into one another. 

bakugo seems very distant leading up to the day. he didn’t seem like the type to make a big deal out of valentine’s day. then again, he had never gotten many chances to celebrate it, except reluctantly with classmates and his parents. you didn’t mind how he felt about it but it was strange that you hadn’t seen much of him the past few days. on the day, you want to not think about his absence so you decide to get some training in. not an hour passes before bakugo storms in, “there you are, IDIOT! i’ve been looking everything for you! you’re coming with me..” he doesn’t allow you time to change or shower and instructs you to close your eyes as he leads you by the hand somewhere. he voice goes soft as he stops and tells you to open your eyes. you open them to see your favorite dessert sitting in front of you and a lit candle to complete the ambience. you’re in complete awe. you knew he could cook but had no idea he could bake but he explains that sato helped him with the recipe and how he almost gave up the whole thing because he couldn’t get it right the first few times. he admits it might still not be perfect but he loves you so very much and-- he doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before you’re silencing him with a kiss. 

todoroki could give you anything you wanted on a regular basis, being the son of a pro hero and all. it’s this ceiling effect that gets him in a bind for what to do for you because naturally he’d just spoil you extra. but something tells him he shouldn’t focus on the material items but rather the gesture, the sentiment, maybe even the experience. the beginning of the day is slow and lazy, with him coming to your room early in the morning to lay with you in bed. being the sleepy boy he is, he ends up falling asleep on you and you follow close behind. luckily, he set an alarm so you wouldn’t miss what he has planned. he takes you to a hot spring in a secluded location, where you (appropriately) share one together. it’s really nice and relaxing and a different type of alone you get to spend with him. he tries to rub your feet but you won’t let him because you’re ticklish and that starts a little tickle war. you surrender by wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as your ribs ache from laughing so hard. you stare at each other while catching your breath, lips slowly drawing closer. it’s all around a beautiful moment with such a pretty and kind-hearted boy. 

kirishima would save as much as he could to be able to spoil you on this day. he figures; that’s what it’s for, right? this man would try to go above and beyond for you any day because you’re so worth it to him but valentine’s is truly his day to shine. he decides to put together a scavenger hunt which involves one long tour of your previous dates, like the buffet restaurant and the arcade. he even sneaks in little nostalgic things during your time as a couple, like at the park where he learned how you liked to lay on your stomach while he’d draw little shapes on your back. it’s crazy but so fun and cute and special. it ends in a random backside of a building at UA and it’s familiar but you’re confused as to why he brought you here. “this was the place where you first told me you were interested in me..and i was so nervous but so flattered that someone as wonderful as you could like me.” and he goes on and on but he can’t help that he feels so much love for you, which is something he didn’t really think he’d get to experience. he’s oh so grateful to have you and so are you to have the manliest, cutest, sweetest boyfriend ever. 

kaminari feels the pressure of making your first valentine’s with him the best day you’ve ever had and tries to put on a front but fails. he loves that you’re so easygoing and chill with anything but he wants to make the day special. he wants to go above and beyond for you because you deserve it so much. he really likes the idea of an private outdoor dinner because the ambience is already pretty romantic. he sets it all up and when the time comes, he’s just too excited and can’t keep it a secret. he leads you outside as he tells you that he strung up all these lights but when you get out there, it’s real dark. he goes, “this is the best part.” he uses his quirk to simultaneously light up the small bulbs dangling from the strings. unfortunately, several of them blow a fuse and shatter, diminishing the full effect. you both laugh it off like normal and he says he was prepared for that, pulling out a lighter to light the candles on the table. it’s sweet and thoughtful, but don’t think you’ve escaped the ‘are you trying to romance me’ tiktok references. it’s okay though because a denki date night wouldn’t be complete without them. 

shinso is similar to bakugo when it comes to valentine’s, except he’s more so indifferent, rather than not caring about it. he’d be the type to ask you what you want or would like to do but he realizes that was a lost cause because of course you tell him it doesn’t really matter to you and you’d be happy with whatever. you’re so lovely to him everyday, despite his insecurities and trust qualms, so he silently promises to give you a day that you deserve. he tells you he has a surprise. it’s easy to hide as he takes you to your favorite cat cafe, a place where you two are regulars. there’s one cat there, a black and white tuxedo cat, that you are particularly fond of. he enjoys watching you smile as the cat rubs up against you and lays in your lap. you’ve completely forgotten about why you were there until he tells you that the cat is yours if you want him. you’re in complete disbelief but he tells you that he had arranged it with the owner of the cafe, who had noticed that the cat was very skittish and avoidant of other people, except for you. “and i told him, ‘yeah, me too.’” 

amajiki is nervous, of course. probably more nervous than on a regular basis. he knows he shouldn’t be because you’re so wonderful and accept anything he’s done for you with your sweet smile and kisses. he doesn’t like going out to public places too often but he wants to take you to several that you’ll both enjoy and he’ll feel somewhat comfortable. every place has something to do with nature: a zoo, an aquarium, and finally, a butterfly garden which he remembered you mentioning how you had always wanted to go to one. although he knows butterflies are gentle creatures, he isn’t so big on bugs in general, especially when there’s hundreds of them flying around him. you hold his hand the entire time, relaxing him as time goes by. you giggle as they land on the tips of his ears, making him smile as their delicate legs tickle his skin. he grins at your reaction as he pulls you closer. “nothing compares to your butterfly kisses, bunny.” he leans in to blink against your skin, his lashes brushing lightly like wings. you return the gesture to him, hugging him close to you as he pets your hair. he can be shy but your own little love language made up for it.

dabi has never been into something as trivial as a day about love. to him, it’s like any other day. but he never expected that he’d be scrambling around the city to find the perfect flowers to give to you. it’s the least he could do but it could never make up for everything you’ve done for him. you’ve made him feel loved and wanted; having proven it by sticking by him this entire time, such as the fact that he’s now a wanted criminal. he has to be discrete. this doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have standards and wouldn’t give you just any flower that was thrown out or forgotten. he starts to get frustrated as he stalks around in a forest and lets his quirk burn off a little steam, catching the trees and foliage into blue flames. then he sees it. you’re a little on edge when he gets home, worried that something had happened after you hadn’t seen him all day. he reminds you what day it is and then holds up what he found: a lonely flower, singed a bit on the ends of the petals but intact and tall. he explains that it reminded him of you, your relationship, what you mean to him. it’s rough around the edges and imperfect but resilient and strong.

happy valentine’s day from bnha night! any lovely requests may enter here..

[reddiamondgamer]

A Wrightworth Fic

(First proper Wrightworth fic that won't be just a one off drabble!)

A03 Next

_________________

If Phoenix had known getting hit by a car would speed up the reunion he'd been planning for months, he would've done it sooner. He was lucky that he hadn’t actually been hurt all that badly, only suffering a few scrapes and bruises, but it was enough to worry both his friends, Larry and Miles, who he’d been keeping in contact with ever since he left and finally met again.

Larry still somehow looked the same as he remembered, with the exception of the currently scraggly beard thing growing from his chin. His hair still resembled an angry cockatoo, his eyes still somehow glowed with the same happiness they always had, and his voice was still mildly shrieky when he got excited. Phoenix supposed it was good that no matter what happened in the world, Larry was still Larry, it was like a universal constant.

Miles, on the other hand, was most definitely not the same as he remembered. Yes, he still seemed to struggle a lot with emotions and was irritated by certain things the same way he was, but he’d grown, a lot more than he was expecting. He was dressed in a flashy mauve suit with a weird neck ruffle and a blue and gold waistcoat thing, if he remembered correctly. He wasn’t sure of any of the proper names of any of the fancy things Miles wore now, but he was sure that he’d become really really attractive, having to remind himself that he had a girlfriend.

“I don’t think he’s all here right now, man.” Larry spoke, pulling Phoenix out of his thoughts and startling him slightly. Right, Larry and Miles had been trying to make sure he didn’t have a concussion after getting hit.

“Uh, what were you guys saying?” Phoenix asked with a sheepish smile, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“We were saying, Wright, that we should take you to the hospital to make sure you have not lost your mind completely. Now, tell me if you are capable of remembering the basics, such as your name.” Miles explained and whoa, did he have a bit of an accent now? He must’ve picked it up while they were apart, noting that it definitely sounded like it was from Europe or something.

“You shouldn’t really tell someone their name then ask if they remember their name.” Phoenix argued, letting out a small laugh.

Miles’s eyes suddenly had a confident glint to them as he waggled his finger, winked, then blew out air, something clearly clicking in his mind. His actions shocked Phoenix and his cheeks felt slightly warmer for some reason, having never expected to see Miles do that.

“Ah, but I didn’t mention your first name, Wright, my request is still valid.”

“Phoenix, my name is Phoenix Wright and you, Miles Edgeworth, have too much confidence over something so technical.” He responded with what was meant to be a sigh, but turned into a laugh as he got up off the ground where he’d been sitting the whole time. He felt a slight dampness over the back of his pants thanks to the dewy grass, finally taking in his surroundings properly.

He was in a small field beside a busy road, right next to his college. There was a bit of trash crushed over the curb and a small dandelion blooming out of a broken cup, making him smile a bit. He took a picture of the sight so he’d remember to draw something similar later.

“Nicky’s back up and running! Now we can continue our fun day with Edgy!” Larry announced, his slight shriek to his voice making him and Miles both cringe.

“I must ask that you refrain from referring to me as “Edgy”, I have an actual name as you should know.”

“He’s got a point, Larry,” Phoenix started, watching as Larry’s face fell before continuing with, “let’s just have an awesome day with Miley.”

Larry’s face lit up once again while Miles made an expression that was somewhere between disgusted and shocked, bringing out a laugh from Phoenix. He grabbed Miles's hand, not noticing the faint blush that spread over Miles’s cheeks after or the way a golden string glowed around their joined hands as he led Miles to the place they’d decided to go first.

“What happened to the person that hit me? I didn’t see them or the car when I woke up.”

“I have,” Miles paused for some reason, like he was trying to figure something out in his head, “an acquaintance that is a detective, he is adequate at coming to my aid.”

"You've got a detective friend that's good at helping you out?" Phoenix held back his laughter, knowing Miles didn't like admitting some things so easily.

He watched as Miles grumbled and looked away, finally letting out a snort while Larry cackled. He felt a smile stretch across his face, his friends always making him feel like the world was perfect. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend his day, giving Miles’s hand a firm squeeze.

The walk to the arcade wasn’t very long, but it definitely had Larry breathless and ready to abandon the whole trip even though it’d been his idea. The cockatoo-haired man was dramatically laying on the concrete in front of the arcade building, which was called Patrick Cipant’s Arcade. Taking a closer look at the papers hung on the door, Phoenix could see that the arcade was hiring extra help for an upcoming gaming event that he knew he’d never understand, remembering that Larry, despite how he acted, was better with technology than him.

“Go on without me, I can’t make it!” Larry whined, his face red and shiny somehow. It wasn’t even that hot today since it was the middle of spring, there was even still a slight wind chill.

“Butz-” Miles started, but was interrupted by the snickering of a few passing children.

“Larry, get up, you’re literally five feet from the entrance.” Phoenix pointed at the door with an unamused expression.

Miles looked annoyed, but Phoenix could tell he wasn’t completely annoyed, noticing a small sparkle of amusement in his eyes, which Phoenix noted he had a marker in the exact same pretty shade of grey.

Phoenix froze when he realized he’d basically just called Mile’s pretty, shaking his head to get rid of that thought. He knew it wasn’t normal to think of a friend like that and he had a girlfriend that he thought was beautiful.

Apparently, Miles had noticed how he froze, feeling him pull his hand out of his grip and move it to his shoulder with a small squeeze following.

“Wright, are you also dreadfully exhausted and lacking any energy just like Butz here?”

“Uh, no, just had a really stupid train of thought, don’t worry about it.”

Phoenix looked at Miles then quickly tore his eyes away, wanting to just get rid of any and all thoughts about his best friend. He pushed Mile’s hand off his shoulder and headed inside the arcade, thinking he could distract himself by playing that new zombie VR game Larry had been raving about. He mentally swore that he wouldn’t let anything else come up from these weird thoughts and feelings, happy with where he was now in life.

Next

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s Winter Tour Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 冬游之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

[ Released on 24 January 2021 ]

[ PROLOGUE ]

Despite the cold and harsh wind, the strands of Kiro’s hair are drenched with sweat as he rides a motocross in a dashing manner from within the camera lens. 

With a “cut!” from the director, today’s shoot once again ends early and smoothly. While all the staff are still present, I clear my throat.

MC: It’s not easy filming a variety show outdoors during winter. Everyone has worked hard this month!

This time round, the shoot is taking place in a faraway city in the northwest. Even though the scenery is magnificent, the filming conditions are rather trying. 

I pause for a moment, continuing with a grin.

MC: Now, I’m going to announce a piece of good news. Because we’re ahead of schedule for the filming, the production team has decided that there’ll be a two day vacation. Have a good rest, everyone!

The crowd immediately bursts into cheers, but my gaze has already landed on the figure who is currently walking towards me. 

Kiro casually wipes his sweat drenched hair, looking at me with bright eyes. 

Kiro: How was the scene earlier? 

MC: You could ride it in such a dashing manner despite being a beginner. Very incredible!

Kiro: Hearing this from you, I can rest easy. The company put in a lot of effort for this plan, and everyone has worked hard. I must definitely showcase my most perfect self, and not disappoint everyone. 

As the light gradually dims in this cold winter, I can clearly see the seriousness and resoluteness in his eyes.

MC: Don’t worry, you're always more amazing than you think.

I deliberately give his fatigued cheeks a rub, shooting him a mischievous smile. 

MC: Since work has already ended, let’s not dwell on it. Come to think of it, how do you want to spend the vacation tomorrow?

Thinking about the continuous filming he has done this month, I hurriedly search for the best way to relax.

MC: Mm... how about a spa?

Kiro: Even though this idea isn’t bad, it’s rare for us to come to such a faraway place. It’d be such a waste if we don’t walk around.

Blinking his sparking eyes, Kiro offers me his hand. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, are you interested in accompanying me on an exploration trip?

-

[ THE ACTUAL DATE ]

Kiro: Oh no... did I really remember it wrongly?

Kiro scratches his head, a perplexed look on his face, lowering his head in dismay.

Watching as the ends of his golden coloured hair curl upwards with his action, I can’t help but laugh aloud. 

MC: It’s okay. Anyway, it isn’t the first time...

Kiro places his hands behind his back, pretending to look incredibly angry.

Kiro: It’s just that the road recognition system in my mind has temporarily short-circuited. Wait for it to reboot. I’ll definitely find the correct direction!

While speaking, he makes a huge show of scanning his surroundings, rubbing his chin as though he’s in deep contemplation.

[ flashback starts ]

Very quickly, we’ve come to the last day of break. Kiro and I start a day of vacation without a goal in mind.

Walking and pausing aimlessly, we munch on food and take photographs, spending this “Idle Winter Strolling Day” in a leisurely manner.

When evening arrives, Kiro suggests returning to the plum blossom park where we had taken pictures at before, but...

Kiro: I think this should be the street. There’s a convenience store, a newspaper box, but where’s the park...

With Kiro leading us confidently, we head in the direction of the setting sun. However, the surroundings look increasingly dilapidated.

He furrows his brows, pursing his lips tightly.

After making another turn, he gives up struggling and starts searching for the destination on the map of his phone. However, it becomes clear that... the situation is a little complicated.

[ flashback ends ]

MC: How is it? Has the “road recognition system” rebooted?

Kiro pouts. 

Kiro: It doesn’t happen that quickly. Rebooting always requires some time...

With a “pfft”, I chuckle and take his hand in mine.

MC: Let’s not waste “battery” then. Let’s just “continue in our mistakes”! We might even have an unexpected encounter!

I pause, mimicking his tone as I speak.

MC: Mr Kiro, would you be interested in going on another exploration trip?

Kiro blinks, the expression in his eyes relaxing considerably. 

Kiro: In that case, looks like MC will be the one pointing the direction. Should we head to the left or right for our “unexpected encounter”?

MC: How about forward?

Pointing at a pile of solid iron bars and the dirt road ahead, my eyes flit to Kiro with interest.

Kiro leans his head closer to me, gazing towards the direction I’m pointing at.

Kiro: Crossing the pile of iron bars? Looks like it’s truly an unknown adventure.

He turns his head to look at me, his eyes crinkled into a smile, the corners of his lips curled into a handsome arc.

Kiro: Since it’s an invitation from Miss Chips, of course it isn’t a problem!

Kiro tugs me along, and we very quickly climb over the pile of iron bars and reach a layer of flat ground.

At the side of the somewhat empty and spacious road, there’s a colourful building. Drawing closer to it, we realise that it’s actually an amusement arcade.

Stepping in excitedly, we find that it’s completely empty. There’s only a middle-aged man, who appears to the boss, packing some items.

Noticing us from the corner of his eye, he greets us immediately.

Boss: Welcome. I’m really sorry, but our arcade will only be officially open for business tomorrow.

Hearing the apologetic explanation from the boss, Kiro’s initially excited gaze dims in an instant.

Kiro: Ah... what a pity. 

Kiro: We won’t bother you then. Wishing you a happy opening tomorrow!

A smile reminiscent of sunlight once again surfaces on Kiro’s lips, but his line of sight sweeps across the amusement arcade longingly.

In the next second, his eyes light up. Excited, he points at a spot nearby and leans close to my ear, lowering his voice.

Kiro: Look, that’s the shooting game I mentioned before. This place even has Taiko no Tatsujin and Whac-A-Mole... this place is basically a treasure trove!

Perhaps meeting a customer who “knows all about the goods”, the boss’ interest is piqued. He suddenly calls out to us. 

Boss: Lad, so you’re an connoisseur! Since we share an affinity, you’re welcome to try the games for free if you’re interested! Just treat it as a large bargain sale before the business starts.

MC: ...huh?!

Kiro: !!!

Faced with such an unexpected surprise, I subconsciously turn to Kiro, and see disbelief flowing in his large eyes. 

Seeing that we’re bursting with anticipation, the boss smiles even more widely.

Boss: Anyway, I need to make a trip to the warehouse. The two of you can just help yourselves.

-

After the boss leaves, Kiro is unable to contain himself, and he steps in front of the game consoles, an excited expression dancing on his face. Meanwhile, I also become increasingly elated.

Kiro walks over to my side, his azure eyes sparkling.

Kiro: As expected of a miraculous MC... Seems like we’ve really triggered an “unexpected encounter”! Are you ready to begin this “unexpected gaming encounter”?

Meeting his expectant gaze, I release a large grin, nodding furiously.

Kiro: Let’s start from...

MC: There’s a capsule machine selling bear cubs! I remember that you’ve been collecting this set.

Kiro: That’s right. Other than the red one, I’ve already collected the other nine!

Kiro tilts his chin upwards, revealing a proud yet satisfied smile.

Kiro: I’ll tell you a secret - I’m a mini expert at capsule machines.

He leans closer to me, his warm breath filling my nose.

Kiro: Which baby bear does MC want? If you make a wish now, I might even fulfil it immediately for you.

MC: In that case... the red one!

Hearing my response, Kiro blinks his crystal clear eyes, an amused smile on his lips. 

Kiro: It’s definitely not a problem! 

He lifts up a game coin, clasping it in both of his hands. After pretending to recite some words, he inserts the coin into the slot of the capsule machine smoothly.

Along with the sound of the hand-crank turning, I soon hear a clear “thud”.

Kiro retrieves the fallen capsule, shaking it gently at his ear.  He lowers his voice, deliberately mysterious.

Kiro: Make a guess - do you think we’ll succeed with one try?

Seeing how animated Kiro looks, I suddenly feel like teasing him with the opposite. 

MC: I don’t think so. We probably need at least five or six tries!

Hearing this, Kiro’s mouth turns into the shape of an “O” from shock, just as I expected.

Kiro: MC, I’m trying to fulfil your wish!

Watching me laugh gleefully, Kiro puffs up his cheeks. With a soft “hmph”, he turns his head, then pumps himself up light-heartedly.

Kiro: With the mini capsule expert Kiro personally turning the hand-crank, it’d definitely be a success on the first try!

After saying this, he cups the capsule with both hands, pretentiously blowing a puff of air onto his palms. Then, he’s filled with confidence as he turns the capsule--

But in the next second, his shoulders sag in disappointment - what’s inside is a small yellow bear.

Kiro: ...it was just an accident. 

Kiro: I vow on the bear cub that the next one will definitely be red!

Carrying this lofty aspiration, Kiro tries five more times.

He didn’t expect that with each determined turn, his face would morph into a crestfallen expression the moment he opens the capsule. 

With these repeated coincidences, Kiro lowers his eyes dejectedly, curling his finger and tapping against the glass of the capsule machine.

Kiro: Capsule Machine, tell me secretly - did you discuss this beforehand with MC behind my back?

Hearing Kiro’s mutters, I mimic him and speak softly.

MC: Capsule Machine, you can’t disclose our secret.

Kiro’s eyes grow wide, and he raises his hands in mock anger.

Kiro: I hereby announce that the mini expert has gone on strike because of unfair treatment! MC will have to do the next try.

He purses his lips, adding another soft, indignant grumble.

Kiro: [softly] I want to see if the capsule machine is truly that biased.

The corners of my lips involuntarily curl upwards. With light-hearted movements, I insert the coin into the slot. Very soon, a capsule falls out.

Mimicking his earlier posture, I bring the capsule to my ear and give it a shake. Then, I grin as I hold it out to Kiro.

MC: The capsule told me that there’s probably a red one inside! Since there’s such a lucky opportunity, give it one more try!

Kiro takes it from me doubtfully, raising it to his left eye. Squinting with his right eye, he attempts to peer into the capsule.

With a forceful twist -- there’s really a red coloured bear cub!

The light of dusk streams in through the glass window, casting the disobedient strand of hair beneath Kiro’s cap with a glittering glow.

He very carefully retrieves the small red bear from the capsule, eyes filled will disbelief. Even I’m left flabbergasted for a long while, mouth hanging open.

Kiro: ...Miss Chips, I really believe the whispering between you and the capsule machine now.

After the initial shock passes, Kiro straightens his back, confidence slowly returning to him.

Kiro: [clears throat] In that case, I’ll have to ask MC to greet it on my behalf. So that it’d also give me a red bear cub soon!

Taking the small bear, I lift my head to see a flashing anticipation in those blue eyes. I immediately furl my fingers.

MC: Whispering too many times will lose its effectiveness. But giving this small bear to you... I could consider it.

Kiro watches me eagerly. I pretend to keep the bear, but he swiftly takes my hand in the next second. 

Kiro: “Consider”? What’s there to consider? If you can’t think of an idea, I have one.

Standing next to the capsule machine, the corners of Kiro’s lips lift into a large arc, and his smile is full of confidence. 

Kiro: Let’s have a competition! There are so many games here. Let’s pick one and have a competition to decide who's the winner and loser. If I win, you’ll give the bear to me. How’s that?

MC: That’s not a bad idea... but what if I win?

Kiro: You’re free to decide on the condition!

Since the game would determine the winner, Kiro and I walk around the amusement arcade, carefully selecting a game.

Just when I plan to ask if the simulation game before us would work, Kiro’s eyes suddenly widen when he looks at a corner behind us.

Kiro: Eh? Hold on--

He jogs over to the machine, eyes brimming with a surprised light.

Kiro: It’s really this music game...

MC: Have you played it before?

Kiro lifts his head sharply, pulling on my hand with excitement.

Kiro: I didn’t just play it! This music game is a classic. Last time, I often sneaked out to the amusement arcades to play this...

Kiro subconsciously pinches my fingers, a tinge of nostalgia flashing across his eyes.

Kiro: When I first went overseas, I didn’t have many friends, so I could only go to amusement arcades on my own to pass the time. It’s been so many years, and I wonder if my skills have deteriorated.

Even though he only mentioned it casually, the thought of a young Kiro being alone abroad causes the tip of my heart to clench tightly.

Kiro: Hm? What kind of an expression is that?

Kiro leans his head over abruptly, his azure eyes in front of mine, a smile hidden in their depths. 

Kiro: Those things happened a very long time ago.

All of a sudden, Kiro is struck with an idea.

Kiro: MC... do you want to experience the charm of this music game?

Even without realising it, I nod lightly.

Kiro immediately reveals a smile reminiscent of someone who has gotten his way.

Kiro: [laughs] Let’s use it for the competition then! It’s been a long time since I played it, and I miss it a little.

Before I come to my senses, Kiro has already pulled me over to the PK area in front of the music game. 

Unfurling his long and slender fingers, he places them gently on the round ‘start’ button. 

Turning his head, he shoots me a beautiful wink. At this moment, a beam of slyness appears in his eyes, which are as pure as the sky.

Kiro: Ready? The time to witness Kiro’s incredibly high skills begins now!

Cheery and lively music sounds. The screen of the game lights up with all sorts of colours and icons. Taken by surprise, I quickly and clumsily tap on them.

Even though the tune doesn’t have a fast rhythm, I just can’t tap on them in time. 

Watching the messy “BAD” and “MISS” filling the screen, I get increasingly frantic, and my movements become even less synchronised.

Sweeping a glance at Kiro beside me, he’s already completely in the zone, nodding and tapping leisurely along with the melody, humming softly.

MC: ...! Why did I miss it again!!

While Kiro plays the game skilfully and with ease, he can’t help but laugh aloud at my embarrassing display. 

MC: ...Kiro, how dare you laugh! Hurry up and help me. Why can’t I tap them in time?

Quickly forgetting that this is a PK determining who the winner is, I instinctively ask him for help. 

Kiro looks at my screen from behind, then stops his actions without realising it.

Kiro: ...right now! No no, that’s too early...

Seeing that teaching verbally isn’t effective, Kiro, who is fully engrossed in teaching, stretches out his long arms and cages me from behind.

In the next second, the familiar body temperature leans even closer -- he reaches out from behind me, latching onto my fingers tightly.

With his chest pressed against me, I can’t help but pause. However, Kiro doesn’t seem to notice, and he continues bobbing his head as he hums along with the melody.

Warm breaths gently brush the back of my head, causing me to move along with his rhythm.

What moves with my body is also my thrumming heartbeat. 

Kiro: An easy feat... How is it? Isn’t it pretty easy? Look, just like this -- Perfect!

Kiro seems to have his head bowed, sticking against my ear. Hearing him call my name, I instinctively lift my head--

In that moment, his lips gently brush against my ear.

What surrounds me is his nice-smelling scent. My heart thumps continuously, and my mind is completely filled with him and nothing else.

Kiro also freezes for a second. Soon after, those azure eyes, reminiscent of the sea, seem to become ignited.

His face grows larger in my vision. Moist and tender lips plant a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose. 

“Game over!”

Along with the loud and clear electronic beep, the game coincidentally reaches its end. The multiplayer music game quickly rolls out the scores. 

My face is slightly red, stunned by his action. Suddenly, I hear a loud voice at my ear.

Kiro: What?! 

Following Kiro’s stupefied line of sight, I turn my head--

I actually obtained the highest score?!

I can’t believe my eyes. Behind me, Kiro pouts and jokes around.

Kiro: Terrible... I fell for Miss Chips’ trap so easily.

MC: No, I didn’t--

Kiro: But it’s fine, I’m willing to admit defeat.

Kiro nuzzles his head on the crook of my neck. Tightening his grip on our laced fingers, he takes me into his arms gently.

Kiro: Tell me, what’s your request?

His muffled voice drifts from the side of my neck, his warm breaths tickling my ear, causing my heart to stir.

MC: My request is actually very simple. Kiro, when you go back tonight, don’t look at your script. Sleep early, okay?

When Kiro hears this, he straightens up. His arms deftly turn me around to face him. Then, he pretends to give me a salute.

Kiro: Miss Producer, don’t worry. I’m a very professional artiste. Even without rest, I can finish filming the variety show in perfect condition.

Even though I know he’s just joking, I give Kiro a glare, then rub his cheeks.

MC: Work is just one part of life. Even if you want to do your best for this variety show, you have to take care of your body first, right?

Kiro nods, his crystal clear eyes looking at me, a brilliant smile on his face.

Kiro: Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.

He tilts his head sideways, giving me a drawn out and focused gaze. Lifting his hand, he tousles my hair. 

Kiro: You’ve been following me around this month and didn’t much rest either. I’m the one who feels a little worried...

MC: It’s not the same! Whether it’s working with you or walking around aimlessly, as long as as I’m with you... it makes me feel very happy and at peace.

Kiro: To me, MC is also my only happy medicine.

He blurts out. 

The remaining light from the setting sun dances on Kiro’s smiling face, leaving me unable to avert my gaze.

Kiro: For example, even though the conditions and timelines for this shoot are really tough, it’s a combination of both mine and MC’s effort. 

Kiro: Once I think about how you’re keeping me company from behind the camera, and think about the incredible results from our twin efforts, I don’t feel tired at all. Because I know we share the same feelings.

Kiro embraces me tightly, resting his chin on my shoulder. Although I can’t see his expression, his voice enters my ears clearly.

Kiro: The strength you give me is of far greater importance than you can imagine.

Kiro: Which is why even without additional promises, we can be each other’s strength. 

Kiro: That’s how I’ve always been thinking.

In the empty amusement arcade, the lights are akin to twinkling stars, illuminating the area brightly.

🧸 Moments and Texts: here

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[korpuskat]

Start Game [Tomura Shigaraki/Reader] - Part 2

[Ao3 Mirror]

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,781 Summary: A week after your last outing, you finally meet up with Tomura again. He’s injured and won’t say why- but hey, at least he’s down to game again. Contains: dry humping, dirty talk, praise kink ===== [Part 1] [You Are Here] [Part 3] =====

“You’ll like Cloud Seven. Each of the characters has a unique Quirk, makes for more varied gameplay.” He says, dragging you by your arm- his left hand wrapped around your bicep. “There’s even one that doesn’t use his quirk at all.” Your head is still spinning, kind of nauseous from your unconventional mode of travel. A portal- someone’s quirk- that’s all he’d tell you. A friend’s. But to be honest, you’d kind of figured he was his only friend. Though... who else had he been hanging out with for the last week if not friends? You knew enough that he wasn't close with his family (one too many unanswered questions left you drawing your own conclusions).

You didn’t even really get to look around where you’d ended up, staggering as your mind fuzzed as though sea sick. It’s all you could do to cling to Tomura’s slender arm as he guided you into a dark hallway, then into a room-

You raise your free arm to shield your eyes. In the pitch black, the bright blue light from a computer screen burns at your retinas. Tomura guides you in, shuts the door behind him, and flips a switch. In one corner of the room a floor lamp lights up, a soft yellow barely overtaking the monitor’s light. It’s a mess- trash and dirty laundry cover nearly every visible inch of flooring, routes between the door, bed, and the desk are carved out and well worn.

Tomura passes by you, grabs two controllers from in front of his television and touches a button on the console. It beeps as he crosses the room again, sitting on the edge of his bed- unmade, the sheets rumpled from last night- and scoots back across the narrow mattress so he can lean back against the wall. Right in the middle. You fidget awkwardly for a moment, but the colors in the room swirl as the console’s menu appears- and Tomura sets the other controller to the side.

It’s not like you haven’t been closer.

Swallowing your fears- because if there was one emotion Tomura could bring out in you, it was that giddy, untouchable fearlessness- you mimic his motions, settling onto the bed with the wall at your back, legs stretched out in front of you.

Like this, his thigh presses against yours. Warm, but firmer than you imagined. He doesn’t seem to mind, hardly even pays attention as he navigates over to the game, and the loading theme begins. Then- shifts. He hums, sits up, and sets his controller on your lap.

“What’s…?” You start, but blink and watch as he pulls at his gloves. He works the fabric over his wrist up in careful movements, never entirely grabbing it. Black cloth slides over his thumb, only then does he pull it from the fingertips. You blink, look at his uncovered hands.

White bandages extend out from under his sleeves, wrapped tight around his wrists. You gasp, cover your mouth with your palm. “What happened?” On his right hand they extend up over his palm, curling around the bases of his fingers to keep them in place. They look dirty, frayed at the edges from how long it’s been since he changed them. But his fingers look-

You swallow and look away.

It’d been a week ago. This was the first time you’d seen him since then, the first time your mind has buzzed in confusion and wonder and all your thoughts are narrowing down into will he do that again? It was intoxicating being around him before, your mysterious gamer friend- you’d thought about him like that more than a few times, but you’d always thought he wasn’t interested. Not until--

He drops the gloves onto a nightstand, covering up a digital clock. You glance at them and then up to-

Another wave of heat passes over your face and you want to sink into the bed, into Tomura’s bed- and he’s looking at you. A crimson iris perched in the corner of his eye, looking straight at you and your crisis- and, oh he’s reaching for you, that same hand you’d been thinking about passing over your lap- your heart is slamming in your chest, pulse quick and weak and you think you may just pass out-

And Tomura picks up the controller with three fingers. His eye slides back to the screen, the main menu finally loaded. All you can hear is your own breathing, the blood pumping in your ears. He cringes, shifts the controller in his right hand, adjusting to keep his index finger outstretched. Your hands tremble as you take your own controller, the screen splitting into the co-op mode.

.

.

.

The bright light of the television burns into your eyes- half blinks white two, three times in simulated muzzle flashes before the fake radio buzzes. ”Targets eliminated. Got ‘em.” Red text, bright and bold appears on screen, Mission Accomplished.

You let loose a little relieved laugh- not that you had much to worry about with Tomura as your partner. “Nice shot at the end.”

“Easy.” Tomura says flatly, unimpressed. “We haven’t done anything since then.”

And it’s only then you realize he’s not looking at the victory screen, the chart displaying the laughable difference in your stats. In the low, flashing light you’re back in the arcade. Turned entirely to face you, his eyes opened wide in the darkness, soaking in all the light to see you- his awkward hold on his controller persisting as he begins to shift.

Your hands tremble, but all you can do is squeeze the plastic tighter in your hands. “What do you mean…?” Your voice comes out breathy, weaker than you imagined. "You said you were busy last week. I- I wasn't avoiding you, if that's what you're worried about. I..." Your cheeks burn, "I like spending time with you."

The controller bounces on the mattress as he drops it. “Is that why you agreed to come here?” His tone changes, drops into that same restrained giddiness that had you spreading your legs for him before. It still works; an electric shiver shoots down your spine, nestles itself between your legs. Your mouth opens but no words form- and Tomura inches closer. “Coming over to a stranger’s house… That could be dangerous.”

Fear makes you shiver, but it is not fear that fans the flames just under your skin. “We’re not strangers,” You protest. It’s flimsy at best, a weak technicality. You don’t even know his last name, don’t even know where you are. That’s not what matters, you tell yourself. It takes everything in you to stop your lip from wobbling under his piercing gaze. “I… I trust you.”

A beat passes, a pause just long enough to make you wonder if that’s the wrong thing to say. Then his dry, damaged brow drifts up- and that electric gleam is back into his eyes, making his pupils expand out until there’s not a speck of red left. The trembling returns- and Tomura lays one hand just above your knee- index and pinky fingers lifted away from you.

You jolt, the thick muscle of your thigh tensing hard beneath his palm- his touch wavers before he’s murmuring half to himself, “Careful, careful…” His other hand lands on the controller, taking it from you with three fingers. “We don’t want any accidents, do we?” Your head is cotton-stuffed, his words do little more than making your brow pinch.

Without the controller to occupy your trembling hands, you splay them over his sheets, fingers spreading wide and pressing into the mattress. That’s fine by him- no resistance as he slides ever closer, until he’s nearly pressed up against you- but not quite. He hovers, touching nothing except where his hands still sit oddly, never quite fully laying his fingers on you. This close you watch as he breathes, his dry lips parted, tongue peeking out to try to wet them.

A hand touches your face, you know it’s his right with the rough bandages pressed to your cheek. “It’s okay.” He says, though you don’t know who it’s meant for. “It’s okay… let me just…” The pale skin of his throat bobs as he swallows and- he leans in.

He barely brushes your lips, the rough edges of his mouth catch on your own- and he takes the tiny gasp of shock as permission to do it again. This time, he’s bolder, his confidence growing exponentially- fully pressing scarred lips to you, moving in sloppy, unpracticed motions. Finally, your hands become your own again- one curling into his shirt, keeping him close, the other landing at his hip, your fingertips ducking under where the fabric has lifted, finding his skin cool beneath his clothes.

The contact makes your skin buzz- you’ve never touched him, not really. You’ve- you’ve never kissed him- but he struggles to breathe in and his chest expands against your palms, his tongue finds its way behind your teeth and all you can do is hold onto him. It’s already too much, his presence, his attention overwhelming you in the dark of his room.

“Come here,” He tugs at your pants with his left hand. “Lay down.”

Perhaps you should be ashamed how readily you’re moving your shaking body, but his voice has you feeling weightless. He shifts his long limbs as you lower yourself down to his sheets, your head nearly hanging off the foot of his bed. He looms over you, mouth open in a pant, practically drooling as he stares down with lust-glazed eyes. He could ask anything of you, anything-

“I hurt my hand.” Tomura swallows loudly- and your universe narrows down to his fingertips ghosting along the edge of your shirt.

“That’s…” The words fade on your tongue. “That’s okay.” You stroke your thumb against his side- feel the muscles of his abdomen constrict, watch how his brow lifts at your touch. Your face burns, embarrassment makes you turn your gaze away. “We don’t have to… do anything.”

Tomura whines. Whatever space was between you is gone all at once- his elbows collapsing onto the bed. “I want to,” His nose prods at your chest, soft hair falling across your face. His next inhale shudders, “I want you.” Heat rushes in your veins, gathers between your legs- and Tomura shifts again, works his way up your body until his mouth sits next to your ear and your head fills with his low, rasping breathing.

Until his hips move. Through so many layers of clothes, he’s hard and pressed right up against you, slotted between your legs. “Can you feel it?” Right against your ear. Low and rumbling- it’s not a question. He already knows, knows by the way your fingers violently twist into his shirt, your nails sink into the skin over his ribs. Knows by the way your hips lift on their own, a tiny, desperate movement that comes without your permission.

“I want to touch you…” His breath shudders. It starts off with stuttering, stiff movements- as though he’s trying to stop himself from rolling his hips down against you over and over. Like the first was for show, just to make you squirm beneath him and now- now he can’t stop. The motions smooth out as he goes. No longer jerking and forceful, like he’s trying to fuck you through your clothes, but firm and continuous. You can’t complain; your pussy sings with every drag. “Want to…” He drives against you with abandon, cock pressing between your legs- “Want…” He gasps, but he’s already lost the thought, his mouth moving without thought. “Want… oh, fuck.”

Your legs tighten around him, draw him closer, calves pulling at the backs of his thighs. Air hisses through his teeth- pain. You stiffen, start to sit up- and Tomura is gone in an instant. He reels back onto his heels for only a moment- and then his arms are forcing their way under your knees, his hands held in tight fists. Your breath catches- seeing your legs lifted up to rest on his shoulders- and he’s on you again.

Folded in half, there’s little you can do but take how his grinds against you. Rutting hard, all you can do is mewl and sink into his mattress, rock uselessly into each thrust. “You’d want it just like this-” He grunts, shifts his left arm- but doesn’t miss how you moan beneath him, nod thoughtlessly because yes- Tomura on top of you, holding you down, whispering in your ear all the things he’ll do to you. His expression softens, his face coming back to hide between your jaw and shoulder. “You’re so good, so good to me. Letting me touch you-”

“I like it.” You whimper, clutch at him. “Oh, gods, Tomura, please-”

“You want…” Tomura hesitates, licks his lips. “You want to be good for me?”

You whine, nod frantically- more than anything you want to make him happy, want to tell him you’d do anything for him, if only your mouth could put words together again. If his hips would just stop for a moment-

“That’s right.” He coos, pulls his face back. Framed by waves of his light hair, his cheeks are burning red. “Then be good and cum for me. Let me watch you.”

That’s all it takes to have your teeth sinking into your lip, every nerve in your clit set alight. It’s not the same as his mouth- those precise, tortuous movements with the tip of his tongue, but the weight of him on top of you- knowing he was getting off on this too- it’s enough. The dam breaks, liquid pleasure rushes through your abdomen- makes your thighs twitch and spasm against his chest.

Your lips part- to moan, to praise him, you aren’t sure- and his left hand catches your chin. Pinned with his index finger and thumb, he holds your face still- his teeth catch your bottom lip and bites. His teeth sink into your soft mouth, drag the thin skin between incisors- and all you can do is keen, ride out the wave of your orgasm against the firm shape of his cock.

You’re still trembling when he lets go, pants hot and damp against your cheek, “That’s it,” He groans, eyes pinching closed. “So good, perfect for me- mine.” You whimper, nod again, choke out his name- “Mine, mine, all mine.” And every muscle goes stiff, his hips stuttering in their pace- and through his hair you watch as his face draws in tight, the damaged skin of his brow pushing together over his eyes-

And his mouth drops open, eyes cracking open just enough for you to make out the crimson of his iris, staring down at you through his thin lashes. “Mine,” He repeats, low and quiet, his lips barely moving. You nod wordlessly, release your hold on his shirt and side to cup his thin face. Shock makes his pupils recede into pinpricks, before softening again, letting his eyes fall shut once more.

He groans and rolls off you (much to the relief of your aching thighs) laying on his side, pressed between you and the wall. You waste no time in turning towards him, huddled in close. He pants, his mouth opened, lips cracked and scarred- and you still so badly want to kiss him. It almost feels forbidden now- he’s initiated everything. But perhaps…

You crane your neck upwards- and as his eyes crack open just enough to watch you move in. His chin dips, lets you find his lips- and it’s like the first. Soft, unhurried- his left palm presses over your cheek, the tips of four fingers curl under the line of your jaw, his thumb hovering away from your skin. You break away only to sigh.

“Are you hungry?”

You blink, look up to him. “Um, yeah, actually.” The moment is lost, but you can’t help the smile that slips over your face. “Though, I think we’ve kind of done this backwards.”

“Backwards?”

“You’re supposed to take me to dinner first.” You grin, smooth your hand over his shirt. “But it’s okay. I, ah, like how this turned out.”

He watches for a long moment, before the corners of his mouth also lift, lift until his teeth peek out from his pale lips. “A date. What did you have in mind?”

Putting a name to it makes your cheeks heat again. You fumble, arch on the bed to dig around in your pockets until you can find your phone. It unlocks easy- and Tomura watches as you type in the search bar. “I dunno. Let’s see what’s around here.”

=====

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[bouwrites]

Maribat March 2020 Prompt: Sweetheart’s Dance

Week 4, Day 1. Prompt of “Sweetheart’s Dance” replacing the original “Rare Pair” prompt, on account of every one of this week’s contributions will be a rare pair (MariJon).

Maribat March 2020 Calendar.

Day 2: Soulmate.

Ao3.

1946 words. Story under read-more.

Jon has had better weeks. Though admittedly it’s not so much that his week is bad so much as that familiar insecurities come back with a vengeance.

In truth, it’s a good week! Jon gets back his grade on last week’s math test and practically cheers aloud when he sees that he aces it. He finally beats that high score at the local arcade. He gets absorbed into a really good book. He even spends a bunch of time with his non-superhero friends and isn’t interrupted by some tragedy somewhere! It’s great! Until Friday rolls around, and with it the announcement of senior prom.

All through the day it’s the only thing anyone can talk about. Who’s going with who, what everyone’s wearing, the works.

Now, Jon is pretty popular, to be fair, but all that means on this fateful Friday is that he has more people than he appreciates asking him who he’s going to ask to prom. And it’s not that he doesn’t like them bugging him about it, but it all really makes him feel like he doesn’t have much of a choice but to bring someone.

He does want to bring someone, but… a small part of him wonders if maybe he doesn’t just want to do the whole prom experience like a normal human kid. Maybe he’s so desperate to fit in that he can’t accept not having a date, or maybe going alone is part of the whole experience. After all, if he weren’t Super Boy, he never would have even met the only girl he can think of to ask.

Jon is already weird. People like him well enough, but he’s not the same as them. His powers will never stop setting him apart. No matter how well he hides, it never changes the fact that he is hiding. So, when he thinks of a date for prom, and there’s only one girl in his mind, he’s just not sure he can do it. He can’t take the questions of how they know each other or the stares of him bringing the most stunning girl no one around here has ever seen and dancing the night away like they don’t have people depending on them for their very lives.

He sighs wistfully, reaching up to the stars. Which is worse, being one of the losers who couldn’t manage to get a date, or bringing a date and drawing everyone’s eyes? Jon honestly isn’t sure. Neither are inherently bad, but for someone who yearns so deeply to fit in…

But then, maybe that’s just the struggle of every teenager, alien or no.

At least Jon is lucky enough that he’s not worrying about who to ask or if she’ll accept. He’ll have to ask about her workload first, just in case, since he really doesn’t want her to get it in her head that she has to make a prom dress and end up neglecting something else for that, but Jon knows for a fact that Marinette Dupain-Cheng would love to go with him. She hasn’t exactly been subtle, asking about American school dances and prom dress fashion.

Jon smiles to himself. I guess I’ll just have to suck it up. I can’t let her down, after all. Even still, with that thought, there’s a tiny weight of dread in his stomach. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is… beyond words. He’ll do anything for her, so there’s no real question as to whether he’ll ask her out or not, but… Jon is going to end up as the guy who brought the belle of the ball to prom. The one who showed up with some random foreign head-turner on his arm. As satisfying as it’ll be to see everyone gawk at Marinette’s splendor, Jon really doesn’t need that kind of attention.

At least it’s senior prom. There’s not much school left for everyone to bother him about it in. It’s just like him to leave with a bang, anyway, whether he wants to or not.

There comes a point, Jon thinks, that one has to ask themselves if what they’re doing is worth it. If whether what’s happening, or is about to happen, is something that they are willing and able to deal with.

As Jon valiantly refuses to duck his head at the stares of faceless students flooding past him, he thinks that this is very much not worth it.

He doesn’t even want the attention that’ll come with taking Marinette to prom! He doesn’t want all his classmates making eyes at them or asking about where she came from or how he knows her or anything like that! He doesn’t want to be the weirdo who takes someone from another whole country to their school prom! He just… can’t imagine going to prom with anyone but her. So, he’s here. At the steps of her school. Waiting like a loon for her to emerge.

It’s not too late to back out. A traitorous part of him says. You can still just go alone.

“Jon?!”

Aw, hell. His chest feels like he’s wrapped up in chains, pulled so taut that even he can’t break out of them. “Hey, there, Mari!” He grins, waving. Everyone around, who of course are watching, start whispering to each other. That’s exactly what Jon is afraid of. But… this is part of normal human high school, too, right?

Not… not in Paris, so he probably seems even weirder here since no one can immediately identify who he is or why he’s here but… still. It’s part of the whole experience.

“Jon!” Marinette’s voice shifts from shock to elation as she throws herself at him. He easily catches her in his arms, and having her there, pressed against him, that loosens those chains around his chest just a bit. It’s easier to ignore the stares when he can stare at her.

He spins her around, giggling. When he stops to let her find ground again, he can’t bring himself to let her go completely. “Did I surprise you?”

“You know you did, silly! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!”

“It was a surprise!” Jon says. “Actually, I-”

“Hey, Marinette! Who’s this?”

Jon swallows down the groan in his throat at the rude reminder that he isn’t actually alone with her. Reluctantly, he allows Marinette to pull away from his hold, though he does have to suppress his elation at the fact that she doesn’t pull far. He still has his arm firmly around her shoulder. “Oh, right! Alya, this is Jon! I told you about him!”

The intruding girl’s eyes go wide. “Wait, that Jon?”

Marinette giggles. “Yes, that Jon.”

Alya smirks smugly at him, looking through him like his mom sometimes does. It sends a shiver down his spine. “Interesting. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things!” Marinette says. “Anyway! Jon, you should have said something! Why’re you here? Where are you staying? How long will you be here?”

Jon just fondly watches her until she rambles herself out before he answers. “I won’t be here long. I’m just stopping by.” With a glance at Alya, he adds, “On my way to some other things. But I wanted to surprise you! I actually have, um, something to ask you?”

Marinette blinks, turning to face him more fully. “Oh? What is it?”

Jon plans to ask alone. He came here with the purpose of surprising her and then asking in a whisper so that he doesn’t make a scene, but Alya is standing right there, now, and is part of the conversation and he just… Well… it’s part of the experience? “Will, uh…” He clears his throat awkwardly. “I know it’ll be complicated to figure out how, but, uh… will yo- will you go to prom with me?”

It’s a testament to either Jon’s nerves or his self-control that he doesn’t react when Alya shrieks and grabs Marinette right out of his arms, making off with her back to the gates of the school. Jon would like to think it’s the latter. Either way, though he can see them excitedly chattering, he’s too taken aback to think of eavesdropping.

Not that he would. He just could, and it doesn’t occur to him to. Of course. He’d never do something like eavesdrop on his maybe-date’s conversation with her friend who just interrupted his asking her out to prom. That would be… rude.

The girls are back before he thinks to look at the passersby, either, so he just spends however long they were whispering in a daze, just staring weirdly at them.

“She’d love to!” Alya eagerly says, nudging Marinette closer to him.

“I, uh…” Jon says. “What?”

Marinette giggles. “Please ignore her. I’d love to go to prom with you, Jon.” Suddenly, and making Jon only more concerned, she slaps her forehead. “Wait! Now I have to make a prom dress! I better get started on that right away! I have to do research to make sure it’s appropriate an- wait, I need the theme! I nee-”

Jon carefully grabs her flailing arms, steadying her before cupping her face in his hands to make sure she’s looking at him. “Marinette! Calm down. It’s not until the end of the year. You have plenty of time, and I’ll give you all the details I have as soon as I can, alright?” He slides his hands to her shoulders, and gently rubs her arms. “We’re okay? No frenzy?”

Marinette takes a deep breath. “We’re okay.” She says. “I’m good. Oh, but I’m so excited!” She jumps up, throwing her arms around Jon’s neck to hug him again. “This is going to be so cool!”

Jon just giggles, fighting off his blush. Now that he’s actually with her, he can’t help but agree.

The only word to describe how Jon feels on prom night is “breathless”. More accurately, whenever he catches sight of Marinette – and he does his darndest to ensure he never loses sight of her – he feels like she’s a plane soaring through the sky, and she’s just hit him square in the chest. All the air in his lungs is knocked out to linger alongside the gentle sparkle of the summer air in warm light.

It’s thick and hangs heavy on them, and that atmosphere only makes it harder to catch his breath, but when he sees Marinette, he’s not sure he’s even trying. Like the air, he just hangs there, ensorcelled by her.

From the moment they enter the room, Jon sees people turn to look at her. He doesn’t blame them. Aside from her carefully done hair and natural beauty, every movement of her dress shines like lightning bugs on the farm. It… reminds him of home, somehow. Jon wonders if she was thinking of him when she made it, but he’s not quite brave enough to ask.

From there, it’s hard to say what everyone else thinks. He has his friends find him, of course, and he introduces Marinette to them, but past that, he doesn’t see any stares. He doesn’t hear any whispers. He can’t think of what they’re thinking.

He just follows Marinette onto the dance floor, sweeps her off her feet, lets her sweep him off of his, tries desperately in vain to pull air back into his lungs when it so stubbornly refuses to do anything but bask in Marinette’s glory.

He hears nothing, sees nothing, but her. Her and sparkling lights like lightning bugs in Kansas. He can’t even summon up any coherent thought as they dance. He just… revels. He loses himself in her and in doing so, he has the time of his life.

[mindflayedr-blog]

You Make It Easy - Billy Hargrove // p.1

Setting: December of 1984

➳ You struggle to not fall for the boy next door, but what you don’t know is that he already fell for you.

Whew this is my first imagine after a while, I really hope this doesn’t suck yikes!! I really fell completely in love with Billy this season so i’ll prob make hella fics about him oop- // also this will be like a mini series I guess, I’ve already written the second part so I’ll be posting it sometime tomorrow, the rest is still a work in progress. I don’t know how many chapters there will be in total **there may be some mistakes, i proof read this several times but i might’ve missed some things**

Word count: 2k oops

Warnings: cursing, some mentions violence and abuse, and it’s kinda sad 

Your dad parked the moving truck in front of a new house in Hawkins, Indiana. You step out of the car and sniffed the cold Indiana air, taking in the new surroundings. The neighborhood was nice and family oriented, there were a couple of kids playing tag and some were drawing on the sidewalks. Light snow fell from the sky making the surroundings feel peaceful and calm. You looked around trying to familiarize yourself with your new neighborhood when a guy with curly dirty blond hair caught your eye. He was sitting on the porch steps of his own home which was situated next to yours. He was wearing a jean jacket with blue jeans. Underneath the jacket was a plain white shirt and a plain gold chain adorned his neck. You stared at him as he took a puff out of his cigarette. He looked ethereal, the sunlight hit him so perfectly that he looked like he was glowing. You didn’t realize how hard you were staring until he turned to look at you, making you jump and immediately turn your attention to the boxes that were needed to be put inside.

You focused your attention to the boxes in the truck, trying hard to forget how embarrassed you were. You pulled out a box that belonged to your new room, you slightly struggled at how heavy it was. 

“Need help with that?” An unfamiliar voice spoke behind you. Who the hell?

You turned around and saw him, the same guy you were just staring at. Your hands trembled and your arms began to give in and drop the box you are holding, but thankfully he was there to catch it. You could feel your cheeks burning up in embarrassment, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Um… I.. I got it… th-thanks.” You stuttered out a reply as you tried to take back the box. 

He laughed at your attempt at getting back the box and spoke, “Bullshit, you clearly almost dropped it. C’mon let me help you.”

“I don’t want to bother you, s-seriously. It’s… um… fine.” 

He shook his head no and started to head towards your front door with the box, “Where does this go to?” He asked, stopping at the entrance of your house. 

“Oh, how nice! You’ve already made a friend, Y/N! I knew you’d settle right in.” Your mom smiled at you while stepping out of the truck. “Mom please not now.” You thought to yourself. 

You took a deep breath and made your way towards the curly haired boy, ignoring your mom’s comment. “That belongs in my room, here I’ll show you,” You said as you led him upstairs and into a room towards the left of the stairs. “Just put it there, thanks.”

“No problem, I’m Billy by the way and I take it that your name is Y/N.” Billy said as he gently placed the box on the carpeted floor of your room. 

“Yup, that’s my name,” You stood there and gave him a small awkward smile, “Sorry for staring at you by the way. I do that a lot when I space out.” You said, giving Billy a bullshit excuse, hoping he’d believe it. 

“Right, like you weren’t captivated by my beauty.” He teased giving you a sly smile to which you rolled your eyes at. 

“Captivated? More like repulsed. Did you not see me scramble away?”

“Whatever you say Y/N, give it a month and you’ll fall in love with me.” Billy smirked at you jokingly, making you roll your eyes once more. You acted annoyed but those words were now imprinted onto your brain. Would it be really that easy to fall in love with him?

“With that attitude? Never. Anyway, there’s more boxes downstairs, less talking more helping.” You dismissed the topic at hand and herded him outside. Give it a month and you’ll fall in love with me. That sentence echoed in your head for the rest of the day.

That was how you met Billy Hargrove, the charming boy next door that you became fast friends with and the same charming boy who stole your heart, even though you refused to admit it. That same week that you moved in, he brought you to every place in Hawkins he knew. He took you to the record shop, to the nearby lake, to the hilltop that overlooked the town, to every little place he found beautiful. School was out until January so you two were able to hang out everyday and explore Hawkins. Hanging out everyday of course included endless conversations. You two talked about every little thing but you noticed that he never talked about his family or his family life. Billy avoided the topic of family like a plague. Whenever you would ask about his mom, his sister, or his dad he’d quickly change the topic, and you never once pressed him for an answer, until one night. 

It was around 9 p.m you heard screaming coming from the Hargrove residence. You couldn’t make out the words, but it was two voices. One was the ever so familiar voice of Billy Hargrove and the other was what you guessed was his dad. You bite your nails nervously, hoping that Billy was okay. You glued yourself close to your kitchen window trying to piece together what was happening next door.

“Worthless piece of shit!” Billy’s dad screamed loud and clear, it was the first coherent phrase you heard after listening in for about 20 minutes. The scream is then followed by what it sounded like a slap and then after that a few grunts of pain and more incoherent screaming followed by total silence. By then you were worried, maybe this is why Billy never mentioned his family. 

You rushed out to your front porch hoping you see your friend outside. As soon as you opened your front door, Billy was there as if he summoned by command. He staggered outside his house while rubbing his jaw, wincing through the pain. His lip was busted and a bruise was forming under his eye. As soon as he saw you standing by your front porch, he began to walk towards you. You were the only person he could think of to go to for comfort.

“Billy what happened? Are you okay?” You rushed towards him, engulfing him with a big hug. He leaned into your touch, finding peace and security in your embrace.

“Hey since you’re here can you help me clean this shit off?” He pointed at his bloody face, “I can’t have my face looking like this. It’s my best feature.” He gave you a small smile, wincing afterwards. Despite him being clearly hurt he still managed to smile at the sight of you and crack a joke. You didn’t smile however, instead you carefully caressed his soft face, trying not to break down at the sight of him. He didn’t deserve any of this. Not even an ounce.

You assisted him inside your house, you were glad your parents weren’t home because they’d definitely be asking one hundred and one questions right about now. You helped him walk to your dining room and there he sat on one of your dining chairs. You hurried to the bathroom for the first aid kit and a damp washcloth. You sat in front of him and softly rubbed away the dried blood by his mouth. You stared at his eyes and saw how tired and worn out he was, you figured this wasn’t the first time this has happened.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Billy said icily, snatching the washcloth away from you and doing the job himself.

“Like what? Give me that.” You retorted and snatched the cloth back, returning to what you were doing.

“Like you pity me, I don’t need pity.” 

“Billy that’s not what this is, I care about you. I’m just… I’m just worried. I’m worried about you. Does he do this to you a lot?” You asked him, you glanced at his blue eyes briefly before opening the first aid kit to retrieve some alcohol wipes. Billy blinked at you as if he couldn’t believe that you actually care, but eventually he speaks up. 

“He.. he does this… every other day, but I thought I could go a whole week without being his personal punching bag, guess I was wrong though. Turns out he doesn’t give a shit about how the new neighbors would think of him.” Billy answers, wincing as you gently cleaned up his wounded lip with an alcohol wipe. 

“Can I ask why he did it? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to of course.” You said as you finished cleaning up his face, it looked better than it was before, but of course the bruises remained. 

“No it’s fine, he got pissed because I forgot to pick up Max, my sister, at the arcade. She was supposed to be home an hour ago but I was with friends so I forgot.” 

“Why didn’t he just do it himself? He has a damn car doesn’t he? Did he forget that he is in fact a father?”

Billy chuckled at your response, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Despite the bruises and wounds, he still managed to look like an angel.

“Neil’s a lazy piece of shit, all he does is go to work for a few hours and come back home to either drink, sleep, or beat the shit out of me. He doesn’t give two shits about Max and I.” Billy took a deep breath and looked down, his eyes not meeting yours. He looked so vulnerable and so broken, all you wanted to do was hold him forever. “So because of that,” Billy continued, “I’m in charge of taking care of Max. It’s me and Susan actually, but mostly me. Apparently I’m the fucking father and mother now.” 

You tucked a loose curl behind Billy’s ear, trying to comfort him. You didn’t know what to say, what would you even say to someone who’s pouring their heart out to you? So all you did was listen. You sat there in silence listening urging him to continue, letting you know that you’re here for him.

“It’s just complete fucking bullshit, I hate living there. I want to get away from here some day, but right now I’m stuck in this shit hole town and I’ll just have to deal with it.” Billy finished with an angry huff. He lifted his head up and looked at you, you saw that there were tears forming in his eyes that were threatening to fall. Billy tried blinking them away but failed.

“Next time he does this to you, come over right away and don’t hesitate. I don’t care how late or how early it is, I want you to come here, so you can be safe.” You said softly so only he can hear.

The tears that Billy tried to blink away finally fell from his eyes and he sobbed. You could tell that all the pent up anger and sadness took over him. He reached for you and held you tight as if any second now you’d slip away. You held him tightly in return, reassuring him that you’re here. A few tears fell from your eyes but you wiped them away quickly, trying to be strong for Billy. 

“Hey it’s okay, it’s alright. I’m here okay? I’m here for you, always. All the time.” 

“Thank you Y/N,” Billy’s voice was muffled, his head was on the crook of your neck, “I’ve never told anyone this and now you’re here to listen to me and I just… thank you. Thank you for being here.” 

That was the first time you’ve ever felt something towards Billy other than friendship. It was new and scary since this is your best and only friend and feeling this way might ruin everything, but despite that you’ve decided to suppress the feeling and stayed close friends with him. Never uttering a word about how you felt towards him and labeling your relationship as strictly platonic. What you didn’t know, however, was that Billy felt the same way too, ever since the day you moved in next door.

-----

YIkesssss i really hope that didn’t suck, im honestly lowkey nervous about this fic. I’ll post part two soon :))

[bonnieisaway]

that dumb saiki k fanfic i wrote but chapter 2

chapter 1 | story on wattpad

chp. 2 - not my intention

There was one part of auras that had always confused Aiura.

See, she was born with the ability to see auras and into the future and all that. Ever since she could walk and talk she could remember trying to figure out people based off their auras, learning what they meant.. Not only did auras reflect someone's personality, but they could also reflect memories they held dear, emotions they felt strongly, and even then her fortune telling let her tell so much more about them.

But there was one thing she didn't entirely understand, even now as a second year in high school. When she was 6 or 7, she started seeing a new part of auras. A red string.

A red string, in most contexts, connects two soulmates together by an invincible string tied around their fingers. When she was around 7 she noticed that her parents had one tied to each other. Some times she'd watch people pass each other on the street and notice them form. Red strings were a part of your aura and they had only formed when you had actually met your soulmate. Aiura had this come easy to her but what always confused her was why it took so long for her to see them. Or maybe, why did it take so long for them to form?

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Saiki sighed as he walked along behind his friends..and (L/n), who you could consider his friend, but it's up in the air if he'd say the same. As Kaido and Nendo bickered and Kuboyasu sided with Kaido, (L/n) fell back to walk next to Saiki. Her thoughts rang clear as she walked and scrolled through something on her phone.

'This feels kind of awkward..' (L/n) frets as she bites her bottom lip, momentarily glancing to Saiki. 'I wanna talk to him but he's giving off the "please let me go never interact with humanity ever again" vibe.' Oddly specific. Saiki almost wished other people could notice that as well. He supposed if he wanted to make a friend of this girl- get his likability up a bit- he'd have to take charge.

"Do you like the arcade?" Saiki asks her, turning his head to her.

"Yeah. I haven't been there in a while though.." (L/n) smiles and scratches the back of her head "Never have the time or money, haha.. how about you?"

"I used to go alot as a kid. But the games are all really easy now." Saiki shrugs, turning back towards the other boys yelling ahead of them as the arcade approached.

"Is that a challenge?" (L/n) grins. 'This could work perfectly..!'

Saiki smirks, looking at (L/n) at the corner of his eye. "Maybe." This could work perfectly...

"Hah, you're on!" (L/n) laughs as she begins to run ahead, dragging Saiki along by the wrist. Saiki shrugs to himself, letting her drag him along. (L/n) basically bursts into the arcade confidently.  "Alright! You seem confident so I'll let you choose a game."

"Ooh, you two are competing?!" Nendo asks, popping up behind the two "Let us choose the games! That way it'll be fair." He's dumb but he's right. Saiki cringes a bit- they're going to call attention if he wins too much. He'll have to moderate his powers.

"Here, let me choose first!" Kaido interjects. "(Y/n), follow me." His face turns red. 'Maybe she's good at shooting games! If I choose a game that she wins at, m-maybe..' Saiki didn't want to hear anything beyond that. It was pretty easy to see where that was going.

"O-Oh, okay! C'mon, Saiki!" (L/n) beckons as Kaido lead her toward some sort of zombie-shooter game. Generally, they were pretty easy as long as Saiki didn't get startled. Lord knows what happened when he used VR.

(L/n) grins and picks up the blue colored fake gun. "Come on! Longest one alive wins!" She smiles, bending down and inserting 200 yen. Saiki does the same and sets his bag down, picking up the toy gun.. it should be easy to moderate his powers and give her a fair fight here...

...is what he told himself. Saiki didn't necessarily play games like these very often, if ever, because he'll either jump and blow something up or he'll lose and nearly break a controller. Nendo stood behind Saiki basically screaming support in his ear as Kaido stood next to (L/n) with starry eyes.

And Saiki lost. Horribly. By horribly I mean he lasted about a full minute before dying when (L/n) kept going for another 3 just to tease Saiki. Which was fine. N̶o̶ ̶i̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶. It was normal to loose at games. He'd just win at the next one so it'd seem normal.

He did not. Kuboyasu chose one of those racing games where the seat is the actual sort of motorcycle itself. The author doesn't need to explain herself here. They're pretty hard to cheat at with esp, but even then- Saiki and (L/n) alike were looking for a fair fight. Which they got. Which lead to Saiki losing horribly.

"Partner, come on, stop losing!" Nendo pats Saiki on the shoulder as he stands up off the seat with a face of- to say the least, discontent.

"Shut up." Saiki glares.

"Not so easy now, huh?!" (L/n) teases, shit-eating grin on her face. Saiki breathes out. He is a patient man. He is not going to get competitive over this. The only one that can beat him is him and he will win the next game.

..Why does he even care?

Kuboyasu chose the last game. It was one of those games where you threw basketballs into a hoop for a certain time limit.

...

...would you be surprised if I told you Saiki lost again?

Saiki huffed as the machine made some stupid loud sound as (L/n) best his score. This time it was not his fault. He is perfectly fine at throwing the balls and would've made all the shots if he wasn't distracted.

He wasn't sure why he was. But for a minute there.. he couldn't take his eyes off (L/n). The way she focused on the game and her face lit up brightly every time she scored...by the time Saiki had realized he was staring he had basically already lost. This wasn't like him to get distracted. Something was off today.

Kaido had pointed out (how horribly Saiki had lost, and-) that they should get going. They'd spent a while at the arcade. Everyone agreed- if reluctantly- and grabbed their bags.

Walking out the arcade and towards there homes Kaido and Nendo continue to bicker- probably about the latest Jump.

"Stop looking so smug." Saiki comments, irritated with the girl.

"Whaaaaat?~" She laughs. "I'll make it up to you. You like sweets?" She asks. Saiki nods (violently) causing (L/n) to laugh. "I've got some coffee jelly back at my apartment. You should stop by."

Saiki nods in agreement- mainly for the coffee jelly, only about 1/8 for (L/n)'s company- as she waves goodbye to the other boys. Her apartment was only a couple blocks from Saiki's place.

"Alright then! Oh, look, they're playing baseball in the park again.. Wonder if Satou's playing." (L/n) points out as the pair pass the baseball diamond along their trek home.

There's a loud 'clang' and an indistinguishable shout before Saiki realizes.

..That the ball hit his head. Right in the power limiter. Shit. If he were alone, he could just teleport home and have his dad or mom try and fix it but (L/n) is right here. He's got one choice, and he's gotta pray that it works...  

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"Saiki!" You screeched, as the boy fell forward and you just ever so barely managed to catch him before he hits the pavement. The ball must've hit him hard.. it even broke one of those hairclips he has. You set him down gently, picking up his bag and throwing it over your shoulder. You slide your arms under him and pick him up, standing slowly.

Jesus Christ. You forgot how heavy guys are. The last time you carried a guy was when (F/n) passed out on field day in middle school. Saiki wasn't heavy necessarily but you weren't necessarily Hairo level strong. You wanted to take him back to his house and tell his parents but there was a small problem.

You had no clue where he lived. At all. You knew he only lived a couple blocks away from you because Kaido told you but you didn't know where. So the best option was to take him back to your apartment.

What became a 10 minute walk home became a 20 minute walk as you struggled to carry the boy. He was knocked out, hard.. whoever hit that ball had to have gotten a home run. You wouldn't be surprised if the guy got two.

So after struggling for 20 minutes, nearly dropping the knocked out boy when you tried to unlock your door, and just generally regretting your decisions, you finally were able to plop the boy on your couch. Your tablet that you generally used for drawing was blown up with notifications from (F/n). Whoops. You set the tablet on your coffee table, calling him as you take the broken hairpin out of Saiki's hair, wanting to fix it.

(F/n) picks up fast, halfway through his English screaming as the connection struggles. "WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?! I'm losing sleep, woman!"

"I'm sorry!" You laugh, fiddling with the hairpin in your hand. The pink ball on top had come off and some of the pieces on the bottom of the inside fell out. "I was walking home with that Saiki guy and a ball hit him smack in the head. Broke his hairpin and he passed out. I'm trying to fix the hairpin now."

"...And the guy?" (F/n) hesitantly asks.

"Heavy as fuck." You snort. It looked like small computer pieces on the inside but, who are you to judge? The problem was now this was a jigsaw puzzle and you hated those things.

"(Y/n)!" (F/n) shouts, reprimanding you.

"Calm down, he's fine." You smile. "I gotta fix this damn hairpin though and you're gonna do your homework and sleep young man." You jokingly glare into the camera.

"Fine, MOM. Bye!" He waves and hangs up. You lean your back against the couch as you continued to sit on the floor, now too lazy to get up. There was 3 major computer looking chips which by some dumb luck, seemed to fit pretty well in certain spots. They 'click' in pretty easily and the small pink ball fits back on pretty easy.

"Well..that should be about right..!" You smile confidently to yourself as you hold up the hair clip in your vision. You stand slowly and hover over the sleeping boy before gently placing the hairpin back where it once was.

You observe him for a second as you stand up straight again. He looks.. peaceful while sleeping. He wasn't smiling but he wasn't necessarily frowning, either. Content, really. You smile as you take off his green lensed glasses and set them on your coffee table. They'll break if he sleeps in them all the time.

You wander off to your kitchen, finally picking up your school bad and setting it on your dinner table. You grab a snack out of the cabinet and begin looking through your bag, pulling out miscellaneous homework assignments. You catch a glimpse out your window- the sun was already setting..

You hear Saiki in the other room shuffle around as he seems to wake up. You grave a coffee jelly and spoon from your kitchen before wandering over to him.

The strawberry-headed boy had sat up on the couch, eyes looking around confused. Hey, that was a good nickname.

"Hey, Strawberry. You're awake." You grin. He looks up at you confused and you freeze for a second. His eyes..

You didn't usually see his eyes very clearly since, green glasses lenses. Even then you hadn't known him for long. But his eyes... they were a mesmerizing violet color that you couldn't take your eyes off of. Realistically speaking, they were as plain as ever. But for some reason you couldn't help feel your face go red. Who's the strawberry now, motherfucker?

"Where am I?" He asks you.

"My apartment. You knocked the hell out when that baseball hit you and I didn't know where you lived so I carried you here." You hold out the coffee jelly and spoon to him, hoping he'll get the gist. He does and takes the snack faster than you could blink twice.

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Saiki took the coffee jelly from (L/n) greatfully, momentarily forgetting about his limiter that, as far as he last knew, was broken. He had knocked himself out when he was hit for a reason- he figured (L/n) would call one of his friends or someone else to help. He had better luck leaving it up to luck when passed out then staying awake and nearly starting a tsunami cause he breathed wrong.

"Oh, by the way," (L/n) starts, "I tried fixing your hairpin. I tried my best." Saiki looks at her a bit confused before taking out the power limiter, and looking at it carefully...it was put back together just about the exact same way it was before it got hit..

"Thank you." Saiki turns to (L/n). She smiles and nods. 'Oh thank god I didn't fuck up.'

"No problem." She smiles. Saiki loses his train of thought for a second as he watches the girl's face brighten. He turns to set down the now empty coffee jelly cup down on the coffee table. He blinks for a second. His glasses are set on the coffee table.

(L/n) must've taken them off, but why wasn't she turned to stone? She should be frozen in place a long while ago. He picks up his glasses and stands up, putting them over his eyes as he throws away the empty coffee jelly cup.

His mind was racing. Was this girl a physic? Why was she immune to so many of his powers? Why was she kinda cute?

(L/n) interested Saiki. She wasn't affected by nearly any of his powers and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. On one hand it confused him highly and made him want to be wary on the girl, but the other part of him was interested in this girl. She was someone who he saw as normal, she wasn't a nusience like the rest of his friends. His chest felt light with an emotion he wasn't quite familiar with. The ever intriguing girl had ignited something in him that he wasn't sure what it was.

"You okay?" She asks as Saiki stands in thought. He hesitates, but smiles. "Hey, Strawberry, it's getting late. Want me to walk you home?" She asks, now with a shit eating grin on her face. Saiki, yes, the strawberry, feels his face turn warm and his heart skip a beat at the nickname. He wasn't sure why. He sighs to himself. He's overthinking things today. His pyrokenisis must be acting up since his limiter was out earlier.

"...Sure..but what's with the nickname?" Saiki asks.

(L/n) shrugs as she stands, walking to her front door and bending down to put her shoes on. "I dunno. It fits."

Saiki sighs at this curious girl and grabs his own shoes, following her out the door.

The two walk in silence as the sun sets, darkening the world around them. (L/n)'s thoughts are generally quiet. 'Fuck, I'm cold. I should've brought a jac- or not?'

Don't get Saiki wrong here. He's only warming her up cause he feels bad. They continue to walk in silence, until they stop in front of Saiki's house.

"This is my h-" Before Saiki can finish his sentence none other than is mother, Kurumi Saiki, comes out the front door, fretful about her son.

"Oh, Ku~chan! Where have you been, I was so worried!" Kurumi frets as she hugs her son close. Saiki sighs and squints his eyes at (L/n), who has a shit-eating grin. Kurumi turns around and spots (L/n). "Oh, and who is this lovely lady?" She asks excitedly. Saiki about rolls his eyes into the back of his head.

"I'm (L/n)! I apologize for keeping your son out for so long. He passed out when we were walking home so I took him home cause I didn't know where you lived." (L/n) scratches the back of her head awkwardly. Kurumi's face lights up.

Saiki cringes as his mother pulls the poor girl into a hug. "Aah, thank you for looking after my boy you're just so sweet I'm his mom Kurumi Saiki thank you so much for befriending him!" Kurumi gushes so quickly the author forgot to write punctuation.

(L/n) finally gets to breathe again when Kurumi lets go of the hug. "It's nothing, really," She smiles. "He's cool."

Kurumi starts to gush once more when (L/n) laughs awkwardly. "You're really sweet, Mrs. Saiki, but I have to get going."

"Oh, of course! I'm sorry for keeping you! Have a good night." Kurumi smiles.

"It's alright. Bye!" (L/n) smiles as she walks off into the night. He walks inside with his mother and takes off his shoes before walking to his room, sighing as he sits at his desk.

Why does he have such a headache..?

.

i apologize for any spelling errors! i’ve been writing without my glasses because i’ve been sick

[pbpress]

Midnight Coma

By Ruqayyah Pickel

My parents always said I was a resilient child. 

So they weren’t surprised when I took a bowling ball to the head when a fight broke out at our local arcade a couple of months ago--and seemed to be just fine, save for the massive bruise that formed on my head. 

I did still end up in the hospital for about a week, but other than that I was fine. I still felt lightheaded at times, and I passed out quite a bit, so my parents decided to homeschool me to limit the risk of my head trauma getting worse. There were too many things at school that would pose as a hazard to me...especially the stairs. 

Being an only child, spending a lot of time at home was…rather boring. Sure, there were the huge stacks of RPGs and fighting games I got for Christmas, but the bright lights and flashing would probably make my frequent headaches even worse. So I mostly took to reading mystery novels and drawing when I wasn’t doing schoolwork. Most days, though, I preferred to read. Drawing was fun too, of course--I used to love to come up with strange characters, or just drawing cool landscapes I found online when I was out of ideas, but the last thing I needed was for my parents to come and check on me and see the more recent pages of my sketchbook.

Anyone who looked at my sketchbook nowadays would think something was wrong with me. They wouldn’t exactly be lying, though: recently, my pages were filled with stuff that had been happening in my dreams. Shadowy figures standing over my bed, running down dark alleyways, fearing for my life, drawings of me being chained to my bed by spectral shackles…drawing these for the first time used to unnerve me, and I barely ever finished the first ones. However, I gradually came to find it more therapeutic, like I could put a face to the otherwise enigmatic forces that haunted me each night. 

Getting a good night’s rest was nearly impossible nowadays; I was tormented endlessly by sleep paralysis and recurring dreams. I couldn’t go a single night without dealing with either of them, or both. Some nights, I’d find myself frozen in bed, trying to will myself to move with no avail. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t cry out for help, but I just struggled endlessly to free myself from whatever was holding me down, feeling the warm tears falling down my face as I wept in silence. Sometimes my sleep paralysis lasted for over an hour. Before my parents homeschooled me, I ended up missing the bus because of it. 

Other nights, I actually could move...and I kind of had to. I’d find myself in that same dark alleyway, knowing what was to come and dreading it every time. I would walk around aimlessly, waiting, until *he* finally showed up. 

Those heavy footsteps, the chill in the air that my dream tormentor always carried with him. Those black, tattered clothes, his black gloves, his huge hood that held an empty void where his face was supposed to be. He would just stay there for about a minute or so—I counted—before bursting into a sprint towards me. I couldn’t fight him, I couldn’t reason with him, all I could do was run as fast as I could and scream, hoping some dream god could hear me. This faceless killer always carried with him a razor edged knife that was curved just slightly, and though I’ve yet to feel it pierce my skin, just thinking about how it would feel sent shivers down my spine. 

Before long, I started seeing this maniac in real life, too. No, not on the street wandering the waking world, luring other innocent victims to their death. I started seeing him in my room, while I lay there, motionless, helpless. He stood over my bed, the knife in hand at his side. I saw it, he knew I saw it. But he did nothing. Not for a while, at least. 

Then, he started to take action. 

He would raise the knife up, slowly; sometimes it wouldn’t even fully reach the top before I had managed to blink him out of existence. Sometimes, though, the knife would go higher, sometimes reaching the very top. Some nights, the knife would already be fully raised when he showed up. Then, like a roller coaster car at the top of the hill, it would plunge straight down. Only then was I finally jolted out of my sleep paralysis.

Too many times have I seen his nonexistent face.

Too many times have I pleaded with him to leave me alone.

Too many times have I screamed in silence, felt my heart thunder against my chest in real life as I tried to outrun this shadowy killer. 

Too many times have I laid in my bed, frozen, my face drenched with cold sweat as I woke up with a comatose start after my relentless tormentor was inches away, always just inches away from finishing the job. 

And too many times have I broken free from his chase, thinking I was safe, only to find him just inches away in the real world. 

When I did eventually wake up, I found myself in tears. I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted to go to sleep. Whenever I asked my parents for help, they just told me to “look up a solution, ”or “just try to sleep.”

And I did.

I always did.

I never stopped trying.

And I never stopped failing.

But I had enough. There had to be something I could do. Fortunately, I did have one person to confide in: my good friend Quinn, who claimed to be a witch. One morning, after yet another run-in with the shadowy killer, I sent him a text:

“Can you come over?” 

Immediately, I saw that he read my message. And so I waited. Two minutes later, I heard a knocking on my window. I turned to see the wild-haired, freckled witch boy crouched on my windowsill. He had on his signature necklace with a metallic feather on it. His brown shirt was torn a bit, creating a slight v-neck, and his “lucky witch hat” was tied on his back with the string. He stumbled through the window as I opened it, and he landed on my floor.

“I see you’ve called on my services once again,” the witch boy said, putting his hat on as he sat cross-legged. 

I nodded. “It’s gotten worse. He’s started showing up in real life, too.” 

“Like, you’ve seen him around?” Quinn asked. 

“No. He’s shown up right beside my bed, sometimes even stabbing me.” 

“Well, not really stabbing you, now, right?” 

“No…at least I don’t think so.” My hand instinctively moved toward my abdomen, where I would often find the blade just inches from me before I woke up. “But during these nights, when I woke up…I could feel a slight stinging sensation right here.” I gestured toward my abdomen. “I...also found a bruise there earlier today.”

“How strange…” Quinn said. “I suppose he’s finally caught up to you.” 

“Caught up to me? How?” I asked, worried.

He gave me a solemn smile. 

“It’s as I suspected. He’s a dream demon.” He opened his purse and flipped open to a page in his homemade spell book, then showed it to me. “Creatures of the night that only attack a victim while they’re sleeping. Yours just happened to be strong enough to reach the waking world…and I can only think of a few that can do that.”

I felt the color drain from my face. Did I really have a dream demon?

“Is there any way to get rid of one?” I asked Quinn. 

He thought for a second, examining his book, then looked up at me. 

“Standard exorcism—though not like you’re any good at that—won’t work on this particular nasty,” he explained. 

Ignoring his hurtful comment, I urged him to go on. 

“Fighting a dream demon,” he continued, “requires one to arm themselves mentally, and, to an extent, physically. The way I see it, you’re at an advantage and disadvantage simultaneously. Your greatest weakness is your greatest strength. And you may fear it, but the truth is, you will have to accept it eventually. Especially in a case like this, you don’t have much of a choice.”

I felt my face contort into an expression of confusion. As always, Quinn’s riddles had caught me off guard. I read his own expression, hoping he would give me some kind of clue, but that slight smile stayed on his face. 

Finally, I had come to realize what he meant. Quinn and I had talked for so long that I was somewhat accustomed to the kind of magic that he gets up to. I was then, at least, familiar with the “solution” he had in mind.   

Astral projection…

Quinn first told me about it a little while ago. I won’t lie, the ability to project one’s soul out of their body sounded awesome...except it required the body being completely still in order to pull it off. 

In other words, I would have to enter sleep paralysis. 

In other words, I had to do the exact thing that led me straight to my supposed dream demon. 

“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting…” I said, “Then absolutely not. Astral projection is way too risky for me. Look what damage he’s done to me already! I might as well just slap a sign on me that says ‘hey! I’m helpless! Come kill me!’ This plan is completely counterproductive! Are you out of your mind?!” 

Quinn let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Oh come on,” he said. “I promise you, it won’t be so bad. You just have to trust me. Besides, I’ve been doing this longer than you have. Your whole sleep paralysis problem is going to make astral projection a lot easier. Like I said--your greatest weakness is your greatest strength.”

It was my turn to let out a shaky sigh, one heavy with anxiety. 

“Very well.” I sat on the floor in front of him, legs crossed, ready to listen, like a kindergartener. “What do I need to do?” 

“Finally come to your senses, hm?” Quinn gave me another sly smile. “Lovely. Now, listen closely. I don’t have much time, so I can only say this once. The instructions are as follows...”

—————

Quinn’s instructions stuck with me that whole night.

Step 1. 

I got in bed, lying flat on my back and throwing my covers over me to where only my head was exposed. I stared at the dreamcatcher on my ceiling; more specifically, the very center of it. I focused on my breathing, and tried to clear my mind of everything. Slowly, the thoughts of everything, save for Quinn’s instructions, slipped out of my mind…that fateful day at the arcade…the shadow killer that pursued me every night…the adrenaline from the other night as he chased me down in the dreamworld…

Step 2. 

That’s when I began to feel…strange. Like my body was shaking, vibrating, but as far as I was aware I wasn’t moving a muscle. As Quinn had instructed, I was to leave these feelings alone and stay completely still. 

Step 3. 

I thought about moving my right hand, but kept it still. Then I moved up my arm, willing myself to move it up and fight against the physical restrictions I had placed on it. This went on for several, unsuccessful minutes, until finally…I felt my arm move, as if it actually was. But my physical arm lay still. Then, I moved on to my left hand and repeated the process. Then my head, both legs, and gradually…I lifted myself up from my bed, leaving my body behind. 

For a moment, it felt like I was still in bed, then I looked back—or down, rather—to find myself lying in bed, eyes shut. It reminded me all too much of an open casket funeral, and my stomach dropped just looking at me.

My stomach dropped even further when I realized I was floating.

The very air around me felt like an ocean, and I frantically flailed around trying to find any sort of ground. When I tried to hang onto the edge of my bed, my hand phased right through. 

Just fly over to the ground! I thought to myself. This should be easy!

But it wasn’t. The weightlessness was jarring; I flailed around desperately in the darkness looking for something to cling onto. It didn’t help that I felt so vulnerable without the fleshy cocoon that was my body. The sensation of someone—something—trying to pull me away, was ceaseless. The room around me felt larger as I continued my desperate flailing, like any sort of anchor I could use—my bookshelves, the foot of my bed, my chair, the windowsill—just got further and further away. 

I kicked my legs out, trying to force my body to go upright, until I finally managed to jerk myself upright. Confident in my position, I landed my feet on the ground, praying I wouldn’t slip under the floor. 

To my surprise, my feet landed on the floor without slipping through. 

I didn’t begin to question how I managed to stay on the second floor; I was too busy reeling from the probably-too-long process of trying to steady myself. Now all I had to do was wait and see if that faceless terror decided to come for me again. 

And so I waited.

And waited. 

And waited. 

It’s been several minutes and nothing was happening. Surely some outside force was causing my sleep paralysis…right? So where was it? If I had managed to pull off a feat like, oh, I dunno, forcing my spirit out of my body, then nothing was impossible at this point…

Right? 

Finally, I gave up and decided that I was probably better off getting myself out of this state of paralysis. I stood on the edge of the bed, right where my feet were, turned around, and fell back on top of my body, hoping to be jolted awake by the sudden return of my spirit—

And fell through the bed instead, stopping myself just in time before I fell through the first floor, too. I looked around and, after taking a minute to process everything in the dark, came to the conclusion that I was in my living room. Annoyed, I drifted back towards my staircase, intending to go back and try again—when I felt something grab me as I turned the corner. I was pulled back into the living room, and found myself face-to-face with an eerily familiar figure…

…the same black-clad, faceless, knife-wielding killer from my dreams. Grabbing my wrist, he held the knife behind my neck, as if to draw me closer. I was almost forced to look at the empty void where his face should have been. 

You know how some people say that if you stare into the void long enough, the void stares back at you? That’s kind of what happened to me…but worse.

No, the void didn’t just stare back at me. It smiled at me, a cruel, triumphant smile that only grew as it saw the absolute terror on my face as I felt the cold steel against my neck; as if it could just feel the overwhelming despair within me that only continued to eat at any hope of me getting out of this situation alive. 

“Who...are you?” I whimpered. “What the hell do you want from me?”

My dream demon gave no response. It didn’t do anything, in fact. As panicked as I was, I started to at least regain my senses when I noticed that this thing was almost completely still. It didn’t even look like it was breathing. 

Was it actually frozen? Or was it toying with me?

Either way, I wouldn’t let this be the end. 

One last chase, I decided. One last chase. I’ve already outran it several times. What was one more?

I immediately broke off into a sprint, pushing my hooded tormentor’s arm that held the knife away as I stumbled on my way out the door. Being incorporeal, I at least had the advantage of being able to phase through the locked door instead of opening it. The feeling of phasing through solid was much more jarring than I could handle, and I continued to stumble a bit as I ran far, far away from the house. I could barely feel my transparent feet hitting the concrete, or the tree branch that would’ve smacked me right in the face after I ran into it. I couldn’t even feel the wind on my face, though I’m not sure if this came from being too overwhelmed with terror or a side effect of being incorporeal. 

The only thing I did feel, however, was the constant, incessant dread of my accursed stalker barely even a foot away from me. I didn’t want to turn around, I begged myself not to look, trying and failing to comfort myself with the lie that the killer wasn’t as close as I thought it was, there was no way, no human can run that fast. The even more obvious lie, of course, was that this was another dream, and even if it does catch up and strike me, I would wake up back in my bed, back in my body.

Finally, I caved and turned around, only to find myself facing that sinister void once more. I screamed, tripping and collapsing to the floor face-down. I turned back up to face my attacker, who was innocently holding its knife behind its back--no, that wasn’t a knife anymore, I noted. It had somehow grown longer than the razor-edged knife it had before, and I could now see the end of the blade from behind the void-faced freak’s back. It had now reached the length of a dagger, or maybe just bordering on the edge of being the length of a shortsword. 

I could only crawl away from my tormentor as I struggled to stand back up. As I pushed myself off the ground and back on my feet, my stomach dropped when I realized my feet were no longer touching the floor. Though I tried desperately to get myself back on the ground, remembering how jarring the feeling of floating had been the first time, I realized that my would-be killer was only a few feet away from me at best, and I should take advantage of this new ability. I willed myself forward, pushing through the air like a swimmer pushes through water, and then did the same going upwards, up past a nearby three-story house. 

I was flying, I realized with awe and wonder, which was quickly cut short when I saw my tormentor climbing up the same house. Part of me wanted to warn the neighbors inside, but every other bit of me just wanted to make sure I actually survived this nightmare. 

I flew back to my house, phasing through trees and powerlines and a bit of scaffolding, until at last I nearly missed my own home. Spotting my room on the second story, I phased through the window and back into my bedroom. It was still dark in my room, but I made out the shape of a body in the darkness. 

But...it wasn’t my body. 

At least, I didn’t think it was. It looked too weak; some bits of hair had fallen out, I looked like I lost a small, yet noticeable amount of weight, and when I looked closer at my face, it didn’t look like me at all. I looked much more pale, my lips were extremely dry, and I could make out the color of an old and large bruise that covered over a third of my forehead. Suddenly, I felt my stomach drop when I realized what was so familiar about how I looked.

I looked dead. 

That’s when I felt a cold breeze come in through the same window, and turned around to find my void-faced, black-clad killer raising a giant onyx scythe towards me. I found myself unable to move, unable to fly away. I just stood there, paralyzed with terror, looking dead in the eyes at the same monster that faced every soul at the end of their lives, no matter how much they begged for mercy.

Its giant scythe, its black clothing…this wasn’t a demon, was it? 

No. It was something worse. People dealt with this thing more frequently than demons, yet this walking void carried with it more terror, more despair, more ruin than any demonic creature could even dream of. My parents always said I was a resilient child, yet my resolve shattered in the face of this monster. I stood in front of it, weeping silently as the sheer dread of my tormentor filled me from head to toe. 

“Please,” I begged. “I held on for so long…please don’t take me away.” 

But it didn’t listen. It never listened. My “resilience” may have made me feel special, but right now I was no different from everyone else—standing in front of this monster, pleading for their lives, never receiving an answer.

And so, like everyone else, all I did was stand there as its onyx scythe tore through my soul, letting out one final silent scream as I felt my very being, and the remnants of my resolve, fall apart. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[moonmurph-gamedev]

Evaluation of Process

Throughout Unit 2 I’ve learnt lots of new skills and a brief understanding of different programs such as Maya & ZBrush. This is my first time creating a character so I was also developing my own personal work flow through this Unit.

Preproduction

I started my process with preproduction specifically creating mind maps of different ideas for both my protagonist and antagonist. I knew I wanted to create characters that would be used in my game next year so they both needed to suit the setting of the game.

I feel mind maps are a great way of organizing my ideas and I will definitely continue to use them as part of my creative process. It really helps to have a clear map of the initial idea and then branch off. Before creating a character, you want to have a solid concrete idea of exactly what you’re creating so it’s important to get your preproduction done right to not waste time.

In my mind map I looked at possible motivations, attacks and backgrounds for my character. I also related my ideas to existing characters in pop culture and games and took inspiration from them. I really liked using the mind map and it helped me narrow down an exact idea for my character. I personally like to have a clear idea in my head before I begin drawing my character to save time.

Once I had settled on an idea for my character I began searching tags I’d used in my mind map and used Pinterest to create mood boards. It was great having visual references for my ideas and seeing what other people tend to use. This was also the part of the process where I decided to base the character’s weapons around the “Player 1 & 2” Pink and blue arcade guns.

This is just one of four different mood boards that I created. I added small annotation to point out points I liked about the images and went into more detail about them on my blog post. Mood boards are seen commonly in the industry especially when creating concept art for characters.

After creating mood boards I went into Photoshop to begin the concept art. I’m quite familiar with Photoshop so I was able to get right into finding a pose and body type that I liked. I decided to settle on a smaller body type instead of the large bulky muscular male you typically see in video games. This is just because I’ve planned for his attacks to be quite mobile and feel it’ll work better for the animation.

This simple turnaround helped a lot later on the in the modelling process as I was able to open the PNGs into the image plane on Maya. I can’t imagine modelling without a reference open directly in Maya and this is something I’ll probably always use in the future. I really enjoyed using Photoshop and it’s definitely my go to program when doing anything art related. Since I created this art a few months ago and have been practicing almost daily I found my drawing and Photoshop skills have improved a lot since then. Over the summer I plan on going back over and redrawing my character to create higher quality art. I’ll also begin the process of drawing different poses to show off his personality and possible animation ideas. This will help a lot next year when we begin to animate our character in UE4 and work on creating our game prototype. My game design document already has a list of attack ideas but it’ll be nice to have concept art included.

In a VICE interview with Bill Petras (Art director for Overwatch) and Arnold Tsang (Character-concept artist) they spoke about their role as artists in the games development and the importance of concept art.

“One of the main jobs that we do as art directors is having a vision for what the game looks like, of what the heroes look like, the feeling of the animation, the color palette, and the architecture of the buildings of the world.” And often that means putting ink to paper: “A lot of times the art directors themselves will do a painting of a concept to show a vision to the team. That’s step one.” –Bill Petras

Arnold Tsang speaks about how the concept art is important for making the vision and idea of the game clear to the other developers.

“Early on, our first job is to inspire and rally the team behind our vision. The development of the style guide is a huge first step in getting our feet on the ground for Overwatch.” Setting down the core of the game’s look is an incredibly important part of the early process. “After we had the core tenets in place,” says Tsang, “we worked with the engineers and some of the animators to start to realize that content and make visual targets that start to realize what we set out to do in the style guide. And we saw how things worked in the game engine, and how these characters moved and acted.” –Arnold Tsang

When we have an idea in our head it might be obvious to us what the character looks and moves like but to others it’s not clear at all so concept art is integral for making that vision clearer to others. In the industry where you have specialised modellers, programmers and animators it’s important everyone is on the same wavelength. You wouldn’t start building a game without a games design document and you wouldn’t start creating a character without completing preproduction.

Maya

When I finished preproduction I moved into the next stage of modelling my character in Maya. I also installed the student version at home so I can continue working on my model outside of college. I opened the turnaround images and began shaping from a simple cube. There are plenty of different methods of creating a character and everyone has a different workflow but I decided to stick with this recommended method as it’s good for beginners like myself. I extruded and multi cut the shape to create a simple humanoid shape and then started adding finer details such as clothing later on. I had to go back a few times to recreate certain sections of the model. I had issues with multi-facing where Maya placed faces underneath faces and I had to slowly go through the whole model deleting these issues. It was also a challenge dealing with edge loops and topology. I’ve never dealt with it before so it was a lot of trial and error figuring out what works.

My main issue with modelling is I chose to create an organic human shaped character but my result was a lot blockier and square especially in the waist/torso area.

Even with some adjustments I wasn’t 100% happy with my result. I also struggled a lot on the fingers as they were too sharp and pointed and almost resembled claws. I used MudBox which detected errors in my model so I could go back into Maya and fix them. This however was a difficult process as I had to go back and remodel entire sections again. I was getting frustrated with my model and did quite a large rework.

This model although fixed is a lot less detailed and not what I envisioned for my character. I decided instead of beginning again I’ll just begin the UV process as that will take a while and I was beginning to run out of time. I repeated my preproduction and modelling process with my villain character. I found the second time around was considerably quicker as I wasn’t relearning all the hotkeys and jargon.

A huge mistake I made with my first UVs was doing the front, back and side as three large chunks. I didn’t fully understand how the UVs related to the texture maps and so I didn’t see how much of an issue the overlap caused until I placed the image onto the UV. You can see the grey areas where the black pants and grey accents share a UV and cause issues. I had to delete these UVs and looked into other methods.

I used planar mapping and unfolding the different pieces of my model to create clear separate sections. This thankfully allowed me to avoid the same mistake I made without any overlap.

The UV process was a long task but essential for creating a character. I now have a better understanding of how to do it and how it relates to textures and painting the character later on. In the future I’ll be a lot quicker at the process. Like most of Maya it was simply a learning curve but the best way of learning a new program is by practice.

ZBrush

The next step after finishing my UVs was exporting my model as an OBJ and opening it in ZBrush. I decided to keep the Hair and Eyes as separate subtools.

My first attempt at Polypainting was rough as I didn’t fully understand the tools and brushes I was using. I looked at different methods online and went back over my model. I found the ZBrush youtube channel as a great resource as they do really quick tutorials on the different tools in ZBrush.

The spotlight is a really powerful tool that allows you to paint directly onto the model with other images. You can scale, rotate and adjust these images and apply them directly onto the model with total control. I was using a tablet too so the amount of pressure I applied also determined how strong the brush was. I saw the potential with the insane detail you could put into the skin with ZBrush. I’m not going for a super realistic human character though so I didn’t want to add loads of blemishes so just simple colours and blush was enough for me.

My favourite tools and brushes in ZBrush was the DamStandard, Curve and Curvepinch brushes. This was useful for creating folds around the eyes and also definition on the welded sections of the face. I spent a lot of time experimenting with different brushes but next time I create a character. Surface, Noise Editor and the Deformation tools were also great ways of quickly editing large portions of the model.

Because I like Photoshop so much I decided to go back on the hair and see if I could try a different method of texturing them. I opened the UV as a png and a simple hair texture with Photoshop brushes.

I like the different layers of opacity and think it looks more interesting than just block opaque colour. I’ll probably stick to ZBrush in the future however as it’s a much more powerful tool than Photoshop.

I was able to create the texture maps from Polypaint and then create Normal maps directly in ZBrush. If I wanted to neaten up or edit my textures, I could open the JPEG directly in Photoshop and paint on that.

Conclusion

I really enjoyed this Unit. I found it really interesting to go from having a character concept to a 3D model. It was my first time ever modelling something as complex as a character and I’m really proud it’s my own original idea and not an already existing character.

I didn’t have much trouble preproduction with generating ideas and creating mind maps/mood boards. The majority of my issues this Unit came in the production phase but that was mainly due to inexperience and some issues with the programs. I have however begun to enjoy using ZBrush after painting my character.

I got quite frustrated at points as I felt I wasn’t at the quality I wanted. I’m still not happy with the end product but I now have a much better understanding of the tools and programs and know I could work at a faster pace. I’m planning over the summer to do a full rework of my hero character.

As my game concept has changed my characters have changed slightly. I want to go for simpler cartoony proportions for my hero instead of realistic. I think this style would suit my game better. I also think a more cartoony player character will blend better with my very wacky cartoony robot villain. At the moment they contrast and look like they’re from different games.

I’m excited to redesign my character and think this will a much better style for my game concept. I think it’ll also be great for creating fun dynamic animations as the games attacks and mechanics I have planned are very fast paced and colourful.

[trevorbailey61]

Latitude ‘17

Henham Park, Suffolk

Saturday 15th July 2017

It is like waiting for the fixtures to be announced, the speculation, the anticipation, the planning, the feasibility of making it to a Tuesday night game in Swansea. The difference is that it is not just when you are playing that it unknown, it is also who is playing. It was Kraftwerk that first brought us to Suffolk but we loved our first festival so much we have been back every year since and now book the tickets before any acts are announced, putting our trust in the organisers to cater for our tastes. From about December we scour the internet for rumours, official and unofficial forums, or should that be fora?, to give us just a hint of what to expect, has our faith been rewarded. Year after year the same names appear, P J Harvey, Nick Cave, Bon Iver, Arcade Fire, all acts that would grace the festival, raising the anticipation. Then the email arrives, names have been allocated to the stages, the most prominent appearing at the top of the page, the headline, the big draw, the act to bring in the punters. And there it was, Saturday, the biggest slot in the weekend, the day when the park is packed to bursting and the draw to bring all these people in; Mumford and Sons. There are few acts I hate, I can normally find something in almost any form of music I can relate to and if I can’t the my reaction is mostly indifference. I have, however, developed a fierce and totally irrational hatred of Mumford and Sons, the Richard E Grant talking boil on my neck uttering a stream of profanities upon hearing the first few chords of “The Cave” or “Little Lion Man”. Not only a headline, they are taking over the whole fucking day, all the acts on every music stage are there because they are buddies of Marcus Mumford, give us a break. And to add to this, when the timings are announced, they manage shut everything else down during their headline slot, the only other act allowed on during their star turn is some rapper called Dave, and I really couldn’t go and see anyone who thinks is it cool to name themselves after a blokey TV channel. Alright, I appreciate that despite my feelings about them they are a big draw and almost everyone I decide to rant at shoots me down by pointing out that the Saturday has sold out, although the same happened last year when the headline were the less demanding National. Even so, how much indulgence did it take to book them?

Overnight, the stages have been given a Gentlemen of the Road make over letting us know who is in charge, the boil emits a little more seethe but I manage to control it. We begin, however, in the comedy tent, giving me the opportunity to lance it completely and enjoy the rest of the day. We saw Phil Ellis compare the literature tent last year where his act was based on still living with his parents in his mid-30s as a result of annoying the friend he shared a flat with to the point that he threw him out. His act was very much for an adult audience but the programme noted that he also did a show for children. Based on what we had seen, it seemed an uncomfortable fit but this morning we saw said show, called “Funz and Gamez”. Despite his still rather seedy appearance, a green jacket and some uncomfortably tight fitting shorts, he was a natural and the children were keen to get involved in the Gamez. That these were mostly about the humiliation of their parents shows how well he judged what they find funny. He also managed to throw in a few lines to keep the adults amused with his life lessons being particularly macarbe, “don’t get a dog when you are seven because it will die when you are doing your A-Levels”, “don’t get too attached to your grandparents”. In many ways the show seems spectacularly inappropriate for children, it even features a character dressed up as a Koala Bear whose intentions are all too obvious, but that is why it works. The variety influenced children’s television of my childhood often included ventriloquists but there was something quite creepy about them, the awkward co-dependency that Anthony Hopkins caught perfectly in the film “Magic”. Nina Conti has managed to ditch most of this, showing a self-awareness that makes it clear that her main alter ego, Monkey, is speaking her words. He tells the cameraman to “zoom in on her lips”, and later, a hypnotism sequence, of course, leaves him speechless. Through the Q&A section that follows, he finds out enough about a family near the front so that she can build a scene in which these people become her dummies. Strapping masks to their faces, she manipulates these at arms length making it appear as if they are talking, she quickly finds a voice that is right for each character. She reassures them that the pressure is on her to make it work and they relax, giving her the movement she needs to build the dialogue. It is brilliant and achingly funny, all the more so because despite the frantic plate spinning needed to make it work, it all seems so natural and effortless.

By now the Gentlemen are calling and I am soon at the Obelisk stage listening to The Very Best. Last year I saw them at the Sunrise Arena so their ascendancy to the biggest stage has been meteoric even by Latitude standards. This is undoubtedly due to their association with the headline, they featured on the “Johannesburg” EP along with Baaba Maal, but they are an excellent band and may well have made this transition anyway. Made up of Malawian singer, Esau Mwamwaya and Swedish producer Johan Hugo, their music is a mixture of African rhythms and chants and house grooves. Whilst this may make it sound a bit “coconut herring” they combine these elements to produce sublime pop songs that tackle issues such as poverty and corruption. It may not have the intimacy it had last year but Mwamwaya looks at home on the bigger stage, striding from one side to the other and reaching out to the furthest parts of the arena. The record of supermodels in music is not a good one, for every Grace Jones there is a Naomi Campbell, struggling to get her limited voice around some stodgy RnB. Karen Elson is, as to be expected, a striking figure on stage, her pale white skin and red hair perfectly lit making her stand out from those around her. Her marriage to Jack White saw her move to Nashville where she recorded her debut album, “The Ghost Who Walked”, a series of murder ballads and roots American folk style songs. Seven years later, the marriage is long over and the songs on her second album, “Double Roses”, are accompanied by delicate strains of harp, flute and violin. The sound is pared back a little for this set, no percussion or woodwind, but the harp remains to give the sound its ethereal beauty. For someone who must be used to being in the spotlight, she seems a little nervous, saying little and staring over the audience to the back wall of the tent for much of the set. The songs, mostly about loss and regret, require little else, a quite beguiling and haunting performance.

We get a Son to introduce the next act, Lucy Rose, who also tells about the day and tells us to get out and explore the other stages, it would have been nice to do that later in the evening but, well they’ve done alright so far so I may cut them a little slack. Rose, enters the stage, looking at those gathered around the arena and noting that if she added up everyone she had ever played to before, it would be less the the number now in front of her. A one time vocalist with Bombay Bicycle Club, with whom she probably played here a few years ago, her delicate folky songs are pleasant enough but with eyes closed, she retreats into herself a little, perfectly pleasant but nothing to really grab your attention. After the first three songs, I have to leave as we are meeting up for something to eat and I would like to say it was more of a wrench to draw myself away.

We head for Blixen, a pop-up version of the London restaurant that has become increasingly popular in the time it has been at Latitude. We came here during its first year when we could just walk in and find a table. It was lunchtime on the first day but they still hadn’t completely set up and as we ate we could watch a group of about five men stand around while another was trying to erect a banner, his disregard for his own personal safety during this bit of DIY was really quite impressive. Now, however, it is fully booked weeks in advance but fortunately I have an organised wife who had secured us a table and we share a pleasant meal with Daphne and Peter. So comfortable had it become, we could have stayed there for longer but that music wasn’t going to appreciate itself and soon we are sitting in front of the small stage in the Solas area listening to Seamus Fogerty. With his check shirt, acoustic guitar and festival stubble, he looks every bit the Irish folk troubadour but the i-mac at his side indicates the direction in which he will take his ballads. It is a fascinating set that was well worth seeking out.

The Lemon Twigs were a band who many had recommended we see and they more than justified this praise. The striking thing was how the two D’Addario brothers, still both in their teens, have acquired such a wealth of musical knowledge. Some of their references hark back to a time before even when their parents were born but they can draw on diverse influences such as Phil Spector, Queen, The Beatles and Syd Barrett era Pink Floyd often within the course of one song. Take “I Wanna Prove To You”, it starts with a regular 4/4 beat and a catchy melody making you think you know where it is going but then it slows down, an abrupt change in rhythm and suddenly we are in a different song. “Haroomata” starts as a slow ballad before becoming a wild fairground carousel, two conflicting themes that they somehow manage to merge, more invention in a single song than most can achieve in the entire set. For a cover they choose a Roky Erickson song, someone few their age would have heard of indicating just how much music must have been part of their life. The both play guitars and drums, swapping over midway through the set with two others drafted in to provide keyboards and bass. Brian is the steady one, rarely moving from the microphone as he does his songs, while Michael, shirtless and stick thin, leaps around the stage looking, at least from a distance, like a young Ronnie Wood. An exhilarating set, the only downside being, given the sell out day, that relatively few had found their way to the BBC Music Tent to see them. In years to come, many may well wish that they had been there and others will claim that they were.

Two Door Cinema Club were booked to headline the Friday night three years ago before having to drop out to be replaced by Lily Allen. This provoked an outburst of Twiiter rage that led even the usually thick skinned Allen to ask why everyone was being so nasty to her. The headline missed, they now occupy an early evening slot but they still draw a headline crowd. Of course this must be good to provoke such a backlash against the person brought into replace them - yes? Well no, they are undoubtedly accomplished and play well but they are so bland they make even the headline act today seem edgy by comparison. Maybe this is price our generation has to pay, living through an era that saw Bowie, The Pistols, Public Enemy, music that set out to be confrontational, the only way our children can rebel is through music that is just so dull. Better to take a break from the music and listen to the wonderful verse of Linton Kwesi Johnson. Reading the poetry he has written over his long career, he is careful to place the words into the context of the time, the battles that he helped to fight in a Britain that was routinely and institutionally racist. The subject is at times harrowing, the brutality against black people that would often involve the police, if not in the act itself then in covering it up. His calm dispassionate delivery makes his words all the more powerful and he tries, mostly unsuccessfully, to silence the applause after each poem. This is followed by an interview with Cossi Fanni Tutti, whose life is certainly interesting but not necessarily one that you would have liked to live yourself. Given her reputation, she seemed strangely subdued but having heard the story about tampons it can’t be unheard and won’t be repeated.

Leon Bridges and Sohn have both played Latitude before and I make up for missing them then by seeing them both now. Bridges has developed into a confident and charismatic soulman, owning the main stage in his brilliant white suit and modelling himself on a young Marvin Gaye. He has the sound and the moves to pull this off showing the presence to hold his large audience. In contrast Sohn’s electronic landscapes are generated from the computers and keyboards he sits behind, atmospheric but in contrast to Bridges a bit soulless. With a spectacular sunset behind us, however, we spend most of the time with Jorja Smith, another scarily young singer with a deep, distinctive and wide ranging voice, terrific stage presence and a cracking band behind her. With just a few singles to her name, there was already a familiarity with her work and as she finished with “Teenage Fantasy” many were able to sing along.

And so the time had come. There had been talk of a rebellion, of a BBC Music Tent sit in to demand entertainment, some even mentioned an escape attempt to visit the Adnams brewery in Southwold but it was just talk. In the end we meekly made our way into the arena where I would face down my enemy. Given my hostility, I am surprised how many of their songs I actually know and I am carried along by the warmth of a crowd who obviously don’t have the problems with them that I do. Better than I thought they would be? - no not really, I expected them to be good at what they do, they wouldn’t be where they are if they weren’t, it’s what they do I have problems with, not how well they do it. I will admit, however, that I enjoyed them more than I expected, “Little Lion Man” was catchy, moving along at a fast pace with the pauses hit precisely, and “Awake My Soul”, a duet with Maggie Rodgers, was really quite moving. The highlight, however, was undoubtedly the three songs performed with Baaba Maal. In particular “Si Ti Veux” was spellbinding, Maal’s pure voice soaring out into the Suffolk underpinned by complex rhythms and intricate counter melodies. For “There Will Be Time” and “Wona”, Maal’s vocals are incorporated into what are more typical Mumford songs with more distinctive verses and a chorus but he adds his characteristic voice and is a striking stage presence. With Maal’s duties done and the quiet introduction to “The Cave” starting, we decide to leave to catch Robin Ince’s Festival shambles, there was at least a token gesture.

Ince proves to be a more commanding host than Keaveny had, his routines are well judged, his interviews ask some searching questions and he is accompanied by some interesting guests. One of these was American Comedian Barry Crimmins who as a child suffered long term and horrific abuse which for a long time he would hide behind a gruff exterior and hard drinking. Eventually in order to come to terms with his own demons, he became a campaigner for other trauma sufferers with his life story forming the basis of the film “Call Me Lucky”. Finally, anarchist cook, George Egg, demonstrates how to make a breakfast of kippers and egg using a wall paper stripper, how else.

Despite all my misgivings, and possibly a stubborn determination not to enjoy myself, then a full and entertaining day. There was never any doubt that Mumford and Sons had a broad and deep musical knowledge and in curating the day, they gave the opportunity to acts to play the big sages who, in other circumstances, maybe wouldn’t have had the chance. Outstanding sets from The Lemon Twigs and Jorja Smith justified their place and showed that they are both young acts with a tremendous future ahead of them. Even the headline themselves held my interest, I won’t be going out and buying any of their albums and I still find it surprising that such bland folky music is so popular but as a live act they have their merits. In particularly giving such a prominent role to African music in their headline set was something for which they deserve credit. The boil has been silenced - for the time being at least.