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kitmon · 2 years

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Let's Dance! | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Chaperoning the middle school dance isn't what most would consider a weekend well spent and Eddie is inclined to agree. That is, until he formally meets you.

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags: fluff, like the fluffiest fluff that has ever existed, vice president!reader, swearing (I genuinely don't even know if that's actually true, just assume that with all of my writing comes swearing), cringe? ok, some of what the reader does could be considered cringe but I DON'T CARE, IF IT'S CRINGE THEN I LOVE CRINGE, written out dance scenes (writing a lot of movement is hard, guys), that should be it, there's definitely no hard warnings for this, it is just pure, unadulterated fluff

Author’s Note: This idea came to me while I was listening to David Bowie's "Let's Dance" and maladaptive daydreaming hard. And it's been rattling around in my head for months and I'm glad that it's finally finished and it's way better than I could have ever hoped! @queenimmadolla did such an amazing job beta reading (she always does) and this is as much her work as it is mine and I would really love it if you could go send her some love because Tumblr's being mean to her right now and she could really use it. This is probably one of my favorite fics I've written and I really hope that you guys enjoy it as much as I do. I think that's all I have to say, as always, happy reading!

With your hands clasped in front of you, your hips sway to the beat of whatever mainstream, upbeat pop song the DJ was playing—the pristine white skirt of your dress shifting like the branches of a willow tree, caressed by gentle gusts of wind—you can’t help but admire your hard work; streamers and tinsel flow down from the ceiling, framing the slow-to-twirl disco ball that you stubbornly bartered for at a flea market in Indianapolis, and the glittery sign you painstakingly crafted by hand even though it took you all night and you’ve been finding flecks of glitter in your tissues every time you’ve sneezed for the past two days. Totally worth it, you think with a pleased smile.

You still remember your Snow Ball (though, arguably, it wasn’t all that long ago); December 15, 1980. You’d been stuffed into a poofy, absolutely ridiculous gown that you adored with all of your heart, dancing to the Bee Gees with Pat Rafferty, a foot-and-a-half of space between your bodies as you stepped, stiffly, from side to side. The scene had looked just like this, right down to the plastic flowers you arranged in the center of each table and, even though it’s entirely trivial, you remember that night being one of the best you’ve ever had. It was the sole reason you begged Principal Higgins to let you join the planning committee amongst the middle school staff and PTA. And now, here it is: all blue and white and shiny, having come to fruition.

Your smile softens as you lose yourself in the memory of that night but it isn’t long before you’re jolted out of the past when you catch a large, clumsy movement from the corner of your eye, followed by the sound of someone tripping and nearly falling. Your head whips around to find a man—definitely not a boy considering he stands at least a whole foot above the rest of the attendees—with his ankle caught around one of the tinsel cords. As you watch him struggle, you realize that you recognize him. It’s kind of impossible not to; the messy nest of hair, the randomly spaced tattoos along his exposed forearms. The only thing you don’t recognize is his attire, it’s still definitely… him. His lean torso is sporting a wrinkled dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and the slouchy pinstripe pants he’s wearing are assuredly a size or two too big on him. It’s a far cry from his usual harsh leather and denim.

He’s hopping a bit, trying to untangle himself and you figure you better step in before he falls and crashes into the concessions.

“Here! Just—Let me,” you insist, chuckling as you step closer and crouch down to unwind the ribbon from around his shoes, finding a mangled knot. Jeez, how did he manage to do all this just by tripping?

You manage to undo the binding and he steps free with a little bounce, stumbling a couple of steps. He clears his throat as you stand and pat your hands over your skirt, “Sorry about that, can barely see anything a foot ahead of me in here.”

“It’s okay,” you assure, giggling at the red hue that paints his cheeks, noticeable even in the dim light. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he shifts his weight a bit, looking over his shoulder and licking his lips before continuing, “I’m supposed to be chaperoning, or something like that.”

“Oh!” You didn’t know any other high schoolers were chaperoning tonight—because why would they?—but it’s not like you’re going to refuse the help. “Well, you’re in the right place.”

Before he can properly respond, you shove your open palm towards the center of you both and introduce yourself with a confident flow of words. He’s a little taken aback by how quick and concise you are with your actions.

“Eddie,” he says as he accepts your smaller hand into his own, intrigued with how shockingly cold your fingers are.

Your handshake is a firm one and he takes a step back once you release his hand and clasp yours together, suddenly aware of just how in your space he’d been. You watch with an amused smile as he purses his lips, nodding his head and surveying the small array of finger foods.

“Soooo,” he drawls, lips still comically pursed, “what exactly do we do for the next three hours?”

“Well,” you sigh, “we basically just watch the concessions and stuff; make sure the punch isn't getting spiked or whatever happens in movies. Though, I highly doubt any one of these kids managed to get their hands on a bottle of booze.”

Eddie seems to get the gist of the job, looking out over the sea of children.

“Oh, we also have to make sure no kids are getting too handsy behind the bleachers—Jenny! Ryan!” you shout, having caught sight of the two eighth graders kissing a little too aggressively for their weight class. “I see you two!”

You jut your finger out and as the clap of your voice reaches them they scramble away from each other and hold their arms at their sides like they’ve been caught with their grimy mitts in the cookie jar.

“Got it,” he says, eyeing the eighth graders with a sideways glance.

You huff and look back towards Eddie, eyes wide and features soft as you ask, “How’d you get roped into this?”

He dips his head and stares at you from below his brow.

“No offense!” you’re quick to defend. “It just… doesn’t seem like your kinda scene. I’ve seen you around school, you know. You wear those band tees and the vest and, well, your hair. . .” You chuckle and mimic ruffling your fingers through your own mane.

“What d'you mean?” he starts, voice laced with sarcasm, “Chaperoning a middle school dance is my idea of a perfect Saturday!”

You cock your head and send him an unimpressed stare, blinking your eyes with a heavy slowness.

“Okay, fine, you caught me. I don’t actually like watching a bunch of preteens awkwardly shuffle to crappy pop music on the weekend. I made this stupid deal with Higgins so that I could start a club.” His arms are crossed over his chest as he stares down, face shrouded with his wild hair as he watches his toes nudge at the legs of the table.

“What kind of club?” you ask, angling your head to try and catch his eye.

Your question raises some suspicion in his mind, almost hesitant at your interest and he shakes his head before answering.

“A D&D club. You know D&D?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. You shake your head slowly with an apologetic look over your face as you bite your lip and it’s clear that was the answer he’d been expecting from you but he isn’t upset, just a little disappointed.

“Well, it’s like a tabletop roleplay ga—actually, it doesn’t matter, all you need to know is that I came to Principal Higgins with it and he shot it down, as soon as he saw me walk in.”

That makes your brows furrow and your lower lip jut out as an unpleasant emotion settles in your stomach. That’s definitely something you’d have to bring up with your cohort of student council members later.

“He said, and I quote, the only way he’d let my ‘band of hooligans congregate’ is if I showed that I was ‘committed to the community,’ or something like that, which means… chaperoning the middle school dance.” He finishes and you nod your head in understanding, feeling slightly sympathetic towards his cause; it's a bit unfair that he has to go through all this trouble just to start a club when you were able to start up the Photography Club with no questions asked.

“And you?” He questions, causing your head to perk up and your eyes to widen, “What are you in for?”

You smile and respond with a cheeky tilt of your head, “I’m actually here of my own free will, if you can believe it.”

“Ohhhh,” he draws out, faux-interest candying his voice before it drops down to a playful dullness, “you’re right, I can’t believe it.”

“Hey!” A smile is consuming your face even as you realize you have to defend yourself against his teasing. “Some people actually like to give back to the community. Plus, it’s a part of my Vice Presidential duties; to show I care about stupid things like the middle school Snow Ball.”

You draw your stare down towards your toes and share a shy smile with yourself as you toy with your fingers. Eddie smiles down at you for a moment, his hands stationed along his hips before his gaze drifts to the scene ahead of him, taking in the neat decorations and the hordes of prepubescent children that jabber amongst themselves and it’s clear the awkward shuffling of feet on the dance floor is here to stay. Despite that part of it being unbearably hard to watch, the rest is quite impressive.

“You sure do know how to plan a party, I’ll give you that much. Looks way better than my Snow Ball.”

That causes your head to snap up and an entirely dumbfounded look to paint your face.

“You went to the Snow Ball?” you ask in disbelief.

You know better than to judge a book by its cover but it seems so out of place for him. You’ve heard all of the stories and the rumors; that he’s a shut-in who dedicates the weekends to his cult-leading responsibilities. You’ve never thought to believe them, even for a second. It just felt so thoughtless and cruel and a genuine waste of your time to be gossiping behind peoples’ backs just because you didn't understand them. It was beyond lame. But you’d see him at parties, all broody and intimidating in the corner with a rusty metal lunch box he’d pop open and not-so-discreetly demonstrate his stock. He never danced, never talked to anyone unless it was to discuss prices, and he never smiled, not unless he was flipping through his wad for the night and counting his bills.

“Mmhm,” he smiles, almost proud for dispelling any preconceived notions, “got all dolled up in a monkey suit and everything. Even managed to work up the courage to ask Andrews to dance; she did not seem too impressed, I can tell you that.”

“Paula Andrews?” Again, the disbelief laces your tone but this time for good reason. Paula Andrews was vile, not for her looks or anything like that—she was actually ridiculously gorgeous—but for her nasty attitude. Anyone with a cowardly bone in their body would turn tail and run at the sight of her for fear of being ridiculed for even breathing in her direction. Even now, she was catty and prissy and mean.

“Yup,” he sighs like he’s already predicted your criticism and agrees with all of it.

“Ugh!” You visibly recoil, squinching your nose and wrinkling your lip. “Why would you ever want to dance with Paula Andrews? She’s… evil,” you shudder. “She once put gum in my hair because I wouldn’t let her cheat off of my science quiz.”

“I dunno,” he chuckles before simmering down, his voice becoming uncharacteristically hushed as he twists his rings up and down his finger. “Because she was pretty… and popular.”

You can't really fault him for that; everyone either wanted Paula Andrews or wanted to be Paula Andrews.

“What’d that witch do?” you ask tentatively like you’re afraid of the answer.

“Oh, nothing original,” he reminisces, “called me a freak and cackled that witch laugh of hers before stalking off with her flock of flying monkeys.”

You snort and move to cover your mouth with your hand, giggling behind it, “She does kind of laugh like a hag, doesn’t she?”

He laughs with you until you both calm to huffs and gentle smiles.

“Well if it’s any consolation,” you begin, “I would have danced with you.”

He looks you in the eye for a moment before dropping his gaze and sucking his lips in slightly towards his teeth, nodding with a pleasant grin on his lips.

The conversation merges into a comfortable silence as the both of you assume your chaperoning chores, Eddie picking at the charcuterie platter, exclusively the buttery crackers and tiny cubes of American cheese, tossing the morsels into his mouth while you survey the room, both with the intention of monitoring any misbehavior and gauging the room’s energy. Your findings are rather disappointing; the dance floor is empty! Not a ghost town, by any means, a few couples took to dancing but the walls are much more saturated with middle schoolers than the actual space meant for dancing.

You watch as the boys chat amongst themselves, throwing a few fleeting glances over their shoulders towards where the girls are cliqued up every once in a while. It's obvious they want something to happen but lack the confidence to be the ones to start it. Why not give them that extra little push?

“Do you want to dance?” you hurriedly blurt out, twisting to face Eddie beside you. His eyes are glassy and saucer-ish as he stares at you, mouth stuffed full of crackers and cheese as he addresses you. He twists his head over his shoulder only to find the spot behind him empty, pointing to himself and humming a muddled question.

“Duh!” you giggle. “Who else would I be talking to?”

He swallows his mouthful with some difficulty and begins stammering for a response.

“I don’t, um, really think that’s a good idea,” he laughs with a nervous tinge.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!”

You’re already winding your fingers around his wrist and leading him to the dance floor, weaving past and around the few brave couples that were dispersed about the court.

He’s babbling the whole way, noncommittally digging his heels into the ground and leaning away to slow you and when you’ve found your spot on the floor, turning to face him, he leans forward and whispers to you, “I can’t dance.”

His words are panicked as his eyes flit around you, hyper-aware of everyone’s stare on the two of you. He’s less so worried about his reputation as much as he is yours; you’re a sweet girl, people like you, like you enough to have voted for you and he’s… him. And in this town, being him or anywhere near him is social suicide.

But his warning does hardly anything to stop you. You can't dance either but you keep your head held high and your back straight as you feign confidence to encourage him.

“You’re in a band, right?” It was an odd question for the situation but he knits his brows and nods anyway. “You like music, you go to concerts. What do you do in those situations?”

He thinks about it for a moment, turning his head to survey his memory but stops himself when he reaches a conclusion, not thinking it a good idea but you seem entirely oblivious as you hearten him with an eye-squinting smile.

He shakes his head, taking in a large breath before huffing it out. The calm, collected act is disrupted by his whiplash energy shift as he starts violently moshing, headbanging, flicking his hair all over the place while he jumps and kicks around. The sudden burst makes you jump in your spot and blink your eyes at him. You watch for a second or two, lips ticking up at the corners at his very… passionate expression and as much as you’d like to keep watching him bounce around, you figure you should start with something a little more… pedestrian-safe.

You cautiously reach your hand out, a little afraid to approach him in fear of getting taken out by a stray limb or a particularly aggressive clump of hair but you manage to touch your fingers over his shoulder without injury, halting him. He slows his movements to a controlled bouncing of the toes, breath panting, hair wild, and shirt wrinkled—well—more wrinkled than it had been.

“Maybe not like that,” you cringe with a bunched nose and lopsided twist of your lips. “Try this instead.”

You trail your hand that was over his shoulder down his arm to take his hand into yours, scooping the other one from his side to guide the both of them to your waist, coaxing them to mold there. He looks a little afraid, eyes owlish as his tongue sprints out over his chapped lips too many times in a single moment.

“And I'll put my hands over here,” you narrate, placing your forearms over his shoulders as you link your fingers together behind his neck. You begin shuffling your feet, your white mary janes clicking against the lacquered gymnasium hardwood as you foster some movement.

“See, it’s not that hard.” Almost like you’ve jinxed it, as the words exit your mouth he steps right over your toes, and your face twists with a wince you do your best to suppress.

“Sorry, “ he winces with you, his eyebrows bunching with an apologetic look.

“It’s okay!” You’re quick to reassure him, a laugh and a smile embossing your words. “Just—look at me; when you look down you only end up tripping yourself up.” You release your fingers and bring one of your hands from around his neck to cradle his jaw in your grasp and angle his face upwards so that he’s gazing at you with those large, glazed cow eyes. You smile when you capture his rich chocolatey stare. “There, much better.”

The two of you sway glacially, Eddie relaxing under your touch after meeting your eyes, the shy lilt of his lips making a warmth bloom in your chest. You stay like this for a while, remaining committed to your designated square where the two of you can rock from side to side without disruption before you attempt to perform something a little more difficult. You slide your hand down over his shoulder and along the cotton of his shirt until it's grasped in his own, twirling yourself and gracelessly switching your feet before stumbling back into his chest with an uninhibited chortle, head thrown back as you laugh at yourself. He’s laughing too, his eyes trained on your ruched nose and crooked smile as you press your forehead against his chest.

As the song builds in energy you separate your hands from his chest and step away, starting to clumsily dance. It’s a gentler sort of moshing, he thinks as he watches you hop in place and shake your head, completely uncoordinated but entirely adorable. His posture slouches to the side as he watches you move, wholly mesmerized.

“Come on!” you laugh, breaking him out of his trance, taking his hands and moving them to simulate dancing.

He smiles before he's splitting from you and doing his own goofy thing, illustrating a botched and lumberly take on The Twist as he shakes his mane of wild hair this way and that.

The two of you are one of four couples on the dance floor and the army of children that trace the edge of it and surround you throw their estranged glances your way and could you really blame them for it? You had two high school seniors—one the predicted Valedictorian of her graduating class and the other the school pothead and resident freak—tearing up the dance floor of the eighth grade Snow Ball. But as the chatter of your embarrassing antics grows louder, a few brave souls make their way to the dance floor to join you and Eddie, hopping and shaking and twirling like unhinged maniacs, but they were giggling and tittering and having fun and that’s all that really mattered.

As you dance with Will Byers, holding his small hands in yours as you twist and twirl him, Eddie smiles to himself and stands with his hands on his hips, admiring the precious sight. As he watches, a particularly rowdy couple crashes into him and sends him flying towards you.

Just as he collides with you and knocks you a bit off balance, the previous song fades into a brief silence, a slower, calmer, more romantic song following; "How Deep is Your Love" by the Bee Gees.

“I’m sorry!” he’s quick to remedy, stabilizing you by holding your waist.

You chuckle, clearly high off of the endorphins that come with exercise, “It’s okay—”

“Are you hurt? Did I step on your foot again?” He’s rambling now and chasing each worried sentence with another as he’s examining you for any hidden injuries that could come with being bumped and stumbling three steps.

“Eddie!” You raise your voice to grab his attention, that same laugh twining your words at his ridiculous worry as you place your hand over his bicep. “I’m okay! Promise. Scouts Honor,” you say sucking your lower lip in and holding up your first three fingers.

“Okay, good,” he sighs, relaxing into a smile, “Good.”

Will looks between the both of you and smiles with a glint of understanding in his eyes.

“Hey,” he touches your arm to grab your attention, “I’m gonna get some punch and sit down, you really wore me out with that last song.”

You smile down at him and ruffle his hair, “Okay, Little Byers, you let me know if you're up for another one, you’re probably the best dance partner I’ve had all night.”

Will flashes a toothy grin and exits, weaving his way past warm bodies towards the abandoned snack table.

“I cannot believe you just said that.” Eddie reclaims your focus.

Your brows furrow as an anxiety of misspeaking clouds your features, “What?”

“And to think I thought, for even a second, that we shared something special, dancing like idiots,” he says with a smirk, the sarcasm now dripping from his words.

“Oh, shut up,” you scoff, landing a punch to his shoulder.

“You wanna give me another shot at redemption?” he offers with a smirk, reaching his open palm out to beckon you towards him.

You smile, an air of bashfulness consuming your actions as you stare down at the floor before taking his hand and assuming the same position as before: your hands twined together, behind his head, fingers slithering under his hair as you play with the scraggly strands at the nape of his neck, winding and unwinding them around your digits.

“So,” you start, “how d’you feel about chaperoning now?”

“Mmm,” he hums, looking out at an unseen point in the distance to ponder on it, “still on the fence.”

You gape at him, “We just danced like crazy! You were laughing like a madman!”

“Well,” he laughs, “is chaperoning always like this?”

“Like what?”

“I don't know—fun, exciting, metal?”

You giggle as you stare down at your feet, lifting your head to send him a suddenly heavy look in your eyes, the rest of your expression at once sober.

“When you have the right partner.”

There’s a silence as he takes a moment to ruminate on your words before concluding, “Alright, tell you what: I’ll chaperone every dance if you're there.”

He looks down at you with fond eyes and you glow under his gaze, dipping your head to hide away from his abruptly intimidating stare and lay your temple against his chest. You can hear the rhythmic thumping of his heart against his rib cage and sigh at the comforting noise.

“That’s a deal, Munson.”

The air is empty and silent, a calm, welcome quiet that permeates after all of the kids have left and gone home, likely recounting the events of the night with their friends or family. You and Eddie, on the other hand, are working to tidy the place; you're climbing onto chairs and tables to swipe paper streamers and tinsel ribbons from where they’re taped to the ceiling and pillars, and Eddie sweeps up fallen snacks and any glitter that has trailed along the floor. You hum David Bowie to yourself as you crumple the paper and the plastic into your hands and toss it into the bin.

You do the best you can with only two pairs of hands and figure what you’ve accomplished is substantial for the night as you walk towards the bleachers, plopping yourself onto one of the benches and leaning back against the one behind you to rest your head in your folded arms. Eddie trudges towards where you sit, after tossing the broom into the corner, and slumps into the space next to you, propping his elbows along the same bench you rest your head on.

He slants his head to look down at your weary body and lets a tender smile pull at his lips and dimple his cheeks.

“You have a fun time, kid?” he appeals, luring you out of your burrow.

You nod into your arms and hum, turning your head so your face is revealed to him as you peel your eyes open and offer him a sleepy smile. You reach a groggy hand out and place it over his.

“Thank you for dancing with me.” It comes out hushed and a little raspy.

He takes a better hold of your hand, flipping his and wrapping his fingers around yours to rub his thumb over your knuckles and the soft joints of your fingers, the skin radiating a healthy warmth.

“It was my pleasure,” he smiles, before teasing, “Gave me a hell of a workout.”

You giggle at his joke before righting yourself and stretching your arms out in front of you like a cat, releasing his hand as you do it and scrunching your face as the tension releases from your body. When you finish, you stand, taking his hand back in your hold and encouraging him up with a ginger tug.

“C’mon, time to clock out.”

He complies and stands with some effort, creaky joints groaning as he places his free hand on his knee and lifts himself. As you walk to the double doors and click off the remaining lights you don't feel the need to let go of his hand, even if it makes locking up the gymnasium a little bit harder.

Taglist:

@guessthestrangers

@dadsbongos

@lunatictardis

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 1 year

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MDZS modern AU, the juniors have a "say yes to the dress" marathon together one Saturday night at Sizhui's house

It's all fun and games and a lot of jokes and maybe even emotional moments

But

The person most invested in the fashion? Jin Ling.

"If I see any more of those princess dresses, I will scream. Imagine having a whole entire dress shop to choose from but you refuse all options that are not one bead away from a Disney lawsuit."

"A sweeatheart neckline. Very revolutionary. Don't tell me - she wants a mermaid dress too. Groundbreaking."

"That dress looks like grandma's curtains and I don't even have a grandma"

"That mother in law acts like jiujiu. I mean this in a derogatory way."

"Why is it so shiny? Are they saving up on light effects by turning the bride into a disco ball?"

"Girl clearly needs an A-line dress. And a short veil with an embroidered hemline. And lay off on the lace for once. My God, it's so simple."

"Why is her entourage so picky? They look like they're shopping off-brand Shein. Let the girl be happy for once, damn."

(WangXian go check on them because there is so much noisy laughter.

"I have never in my life seen a wedding dress that looks so much like unripe lettuce."

Lan Wangji glances at the screen once and solemnly adds. "Mn. A simple column dress with lace appliques would be a much better fit."

"Exactly what I've been saying, thank you Hanguang-Jun."

Everyone is stunned silent for 5 seconds, then they laugh, then they proceed to continue watching the show just to hear Lan Wangji and Jin Ling trade fashion opinions and roasts)

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #original thots #inspired by a post by tumblr user fever-dreamer97

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innytoes · 4 months

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Stop flirting with yourself in the mirror, Reggie + any (Flynn? Carrie? Anyone? I can't choose)

Reggie wasn't quite sure why he was invited to girls night when all the other guys - even Alex, who liked pink and pop music and dancing - were banned. Maybe because he had Serious Opinions in the Team Jess versus Team Dean versus Team Logan debate. Maybe because he was basically Julie's unofficial brother and Ray's favourite child and he was always over at the Molina house anyway. Maybe because he liked butterflies and glitter.

What started as sleepovers and movie nights as teenagers evolved into clubbing once they hit their twenties. (And then sleepovers and movies later. Romcoms were way better when you were three fruity cocktails in and had stopped to grab greasy take out on the way home.)

Also, he loved playing Fake Boyfriend for all the girls. It meant they could dance more freely, without guys bothering them, and sometimes it meant that people thought he had three girlfriends at once which was hilariously good for his ego. Even though Julie was like, kind of his sister, which, you know, gross.

"What do you think?" Julie asked, coming out of the bedroom where the girls were getting ready. She was wearing a pretty dress, all shiny sequins, and a pair of black sneakers with white doodles that would light up perfectly under the black light.

"I think Tía would have a heart attack if she saw you wear that," he said, shooting her some finger guns. "You look like a sparkly disco ball in the best way. Those sneakers are going to pop. "

Flynn was out next, and he gave an enthusiastic attempt at beatboxing so she could walk down the catwalk to show off her outfit, some tight faux-leather pants and an eye-popping neon crop top over a mesh body suit. He applauded at her flourish and pose at the end. "You look like a fashion model!" he said, and she grinned. "We're not going to even get to the club before you're swarmed by fashion bloggers! They're going to crown you their queen."

"You look..." she eyed him. "The same."

"Hey!" Reggie pouted. "I spent like forty-five minutes on my hair!" Okay, so he was just in his usual ripped jeans and black tank top, but like, the clubs got hot. He wanted to get his groove on with the girls, so the leather jacket was out. He was still debating if he should wrap his flannel around his waist or not. Even though chances were if he did, one of the girls would be wearing it home because he was a gentleman.

"And it looks perfect, babygirl," Flynn said, and he didn't care if there was a sarcastic undertone to it, he beamed. "But you are not Club Ready. Hold on, let me grab some eye-liner."

And it was only because of many, many Girls Nights that Reggie had perfected sitting perfectly still without flinching while people poked sharp things near his eyes.

But when Flynn was done, well, he looked Good. Like, good good. Like sexy brooding punk who had a secret soft side good. He completely missed Carrie's grand entrance, he was so busy making faces at himself in the mirror.

"Stop flirting with yourself in the mirror, Reginald," Carrie said, impatiently tapping her foot so he could turn around and give her her deserved accolades.

So he did, turning around and beaming. Carrie was, of course, in all pink, a tight dress and heels that Reggie had no idea how she could dance in, and the perfect amount of highlighter on her face. Her lips were all wet and shiny looking from her sparkly lipgloss, and Reggie tried not to think about how kissable they looked.

"You look really pretty," he blurted out, which wasn't anywhere close to his usual over the top cheer squad pep-talks.

Except Carrie didn't seem put out at all. Instead she was staring at his eyes, his eyeliner. "You do too."

Behind him, he heard Flynn and Julie high five, and he couldn't even be mad about it. Maybe if tonight went well, he wouldn't have to play fake boyfriend to Carrie anymore.

#julie and the phantoms #carriexreggie #make reggie a molina 2kalways #fanfic #flynn taylor #julie molina #reggie peters #carrie wilson #I wrote a thing #reggie does indeed get to go to girls night because he has opinions on Gilmore Girls and the others do not #also can you imagine Reggie to some loser at the club like: yeah I'm dating all three of them #and Flynn just shouts: HE HAS A HUGE DICK AND HE KNOWS HOW TO USE IT #(and once Carrie is dating Reggie Flynn is like: okay but spill does he have a big dick and know how to use it)#(while Julie goes LALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU)

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newkatzkafe2023 · 5 months

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What if the Monkey King's have an Magical girl Y/n? Female obviously since- the title says it all

Like glitter force? I think of Glitter Lucky! (The pink one) shes a cutesy honestly

I remember glitter force🥰🥰🥰

(Lmk Wukong) You were sparkling Sparkly Is shiny and amazing. You were the cutest monkey magical he's ever seen Not to mention you can pack a punch. He loves how you spread glitter. Whenever you're laughing or you're happy or spreading joy to the ones around you. You're like the daytime disco ball or heck even the moon and the sun. Don't change for him or anyone all right.

(NR Wukong) WoW You are quite shiny aren't you. He feels that he has to wear sunglasses. You have such a flashy and eccentric clothing tasyes, but he really shouldn't be talking since he's somebody who would fight in pajamas so Fun fact your wardrobe caused them to underestimate you one time but His first impression of you quickly changed when you beat his ass in front of Li.

(HIB Wukong) In the very beginning he had a very hard time being seen with you. It's not that you embarrassed him but you can be a lot to deal with. You're the most social out of the 2 of you So everybody loves to hang out with you. Your powers do come in handy times especially when he needs a distraction and a backup plan. You once had a magical attack that leveled an entire battlefield. So he knows not to underestimate you.

(Mk Reborn Wukong) I'm sorry but I won't even lie. He is embarrassed to be seen with you. In fact, I'm pretty sure everybody could see you from a mile away with all your glitters and sparkles. And shiny up things you wear it does. It's just i'm pretty sure somebody could see you from outer space. Wukong Had to learn to deal with it though. Because that was just stuff that made you happy. So he just had to put up with the embarrassment. One time a demon couldn't have this master or attempted to kidnap. If it wasn't for you pulling master tang behind you and blasting the demon into next year. He learns very quickly Underestimate you ever again. I guess all of that glitter was not Just for show after all.

(Netflix Wukong) He also thought You were the cutest thing he ever seen. And the sparkles fit your flashy and happy personality. And he wouldn't change you for the world. You also learn very quickly how powerful you actually are. Since you can do area damage to a large group of demons at a time. You too find yourself working together a lot. And it really bought you together as a couple. Don't change or else he'll be sad.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG 😇👍

#monkey king netflix #monkey king reborn #monkey king x reader #nezha reborn #lmk monkey king #monkey king hero is back #x female y/n #glitter #sparklecare

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greetings-and-salutations · 8 months

Text

“Slightly More Anonymous Than Usual Karate Kids Getting Wasted and Starting Fist Fights”

Robby Keene x Reader Part 3

✨CATCH-UP DUMP✨

Day 6 of the 13 Nights of Halloween Spooktacular!!!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

(Gif not mine)

Requested? No

Summary: (Y/n) really doesn’t want to go to the stupid Halloween Masquerade Ball. But, maybe Moon was right. Maybe she’d finally find her soulmate under the cheap streamers and disco lighting… (a cinderella retelling)

soulmate au: You find your soulmate when you touch for the first time and the date and time you met becomes engraved as a tattoo on your wrist.

Warnings: starred out swear words, underage drinking, I think that’s it? 🤔

Pairing: Robby Keene x Fem!Reader

“God, why did I come to this?” (Y/n) mumbled to herself in complaint, having been watching the party-goers from where she stood by the snack table, the kids in question getting drunker and drunker as the night went on, her little group of friends among the would-be alcoholics.

(Y/n) sighed dejectedly, as she watched the punch swish around in her cup. The longer she spent at the event, the more she regretted her decision to even come in the first place. Sure Moon and Yasmine would have been mad at her for a few days for flaking out on their big night; probably ignored her for a little bit too. But, really, was one week of Yasmine worth this never ending night of torture?

“It’s not so bad, is it?” (Y/n) was so startled by the sudden voice interrupting her thoughts, she almost spilled her cup all over her dress. Though, a small part of her wished she had; for, at least then, she’d have an excuse to leave. The much larger part, however, was more curious than anything about the boy who stood before her now, the same one Hawk had, not so subtly, warned her to stay away from earlier that very evening.

“Hey…” She said slowly, her eyes wandering over his figure, shamelessly taking him in. He was much cuter up close, she noted, decked out in his striped suit and a shiny white mask that kind of reminded her of the Phantom of the Opera, while, obviously, still concealing much more of his face than she’d have liked.

He was a mystery in every sense of the word, but there was something about him, something (Y/n) couldn’t quite put her finger on. She‘d never even see his face, but it was like there was something drawing her closer, like a pull that she couldn’t explain.

“Hi.” He responded with a smirk, clearly having noticed the way she was checking him out. (Y/n)’s face flushed pink.

“Sorry, it’s just… I saw you earlier.” She tried to explain, hoping that backtracking might dig her out of the hole she’d unintentionally made for herself. “None of my friends can figure out who you are.”

“That’s the point, though. Isn’t it?” He asked, the smirk still clearly evident on his face, as he made a valid point. (Y/n) shrugged in response.

“I suppose…” There was a silence after her words, not incredibly long in any aspect, but long enough to make (Y/n) feel just the slightest bit more awkward, which she hadn’t even thought was possible until then, though certainly wasn’t keen on having been proven wrong. Thankfully, it seemed the boy was undeterred by the quiet, and broke it with the same smirk still present.

“Does “you come here often” work in this setting, or should I up my game?” He asked, causing the girl’s eyes to widen in shock. Did he just…? (Y/n) sincerely hoped she had caught herself before he’d noticed her disbelief, as she didn’t think she was prepared for another one of his knowing smirks.

“I dunno.” She mumbled, before slapping on a smirk of her own, that she prayed he couldn’t see through. “You tell me. You come here often?” She asked confidently, or, at the very least, with the most believable fake confidence she could muster up. Thankfully, his grin only widened at her words, as he chuckled.

“That was… that was good.” He replied through the laughter that had (Y/n)’s heart a fluttering mess.

“Hey, you started it.” She complained, the pink tint of her cheeks having returned tenfold. But he just chuckled again.

“Fair enough… I’m Robby.” He held his hand out for a shake. (Y/n) was just about to offer up her own in return, a response ready on her lips, before loud voices from across the room suddenly and forcefully redirected her attention.

“God, you’re such an a*shole!”

“Yeah? What are you and your Miyagi-do p*ssies gonna do about it?”

Here we go…

+ + +

Robby knew he shouldn’t have left to go talk to the mystery girl so close to midnight. With everything going on, she should have been the least of his worries. ‘Should have’ being the key here. Cause, for whatever reason, that simply wasn’t the case. For whatever reason, there he found himself, not but a foot away from her. And the clock ticking away above them.

But Robby just couldn’t help it. He’d been watching her off and on all night and she looked downright miserable. It was painfully obvious she’d come to the dance alone, but he’d at least assumed at some point she’d hang out with the friends he swore he’d seen her with earlier. But, no. Every time his eyes wandered back to the mysterious cause of his heart palpitations, she was all by herself, practically glaring at the party around her. And the collection of lavish dresses and tuxedos he recognized her pretty green one as being a part of just an hour before, now could be seen mixed in with the rest of the chaos, the emerald beauty having been left behind to fend for herself.

Now what sort of guy would he be if Robby left her to such an evening? And, god, was she even more enticing up close…

“God, you’re such an a*shole!”

“Yeah? What are you and your Miyagi-do p*ssies gonna do about it?”

Unfortunately, he had to he brought back down to earth sooner or later, and, it seemed the universe had decided for him that it would be sooner. Robby almost groaned in annoyance. He didn’t even have a chance to get her name. But he would certainly make time to get her out of there before the real fight began…

“Hey, you should-“ Robby started to say, reaching out to gently direct her away from the skirmish, but, of course, the universe had another something in mind once again. This one, however, had thoughts of the fight brewing behind them thrown haphazardly out the window.

‘October 31st 11:58pm’

And with that small tattoo, things just got a whole lot more complicated for Robby Keene…

“Robby, c’mon! It’s go time!”

He made a pained expression as he looked down at his soulmate, the poor girl seemingly still too shocked to speak. He didn’t want to leave her. Especially not now. But… his friends needed him. But, so did his soulmate…

Could this night get any worse?

Tag lists are open!!!

Tags: @electriclcvewp @kaqua @lolawassad @imaslutforsstuff @nani-2305 @hawkinsavclub1983

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glitterp0prhaps0dy · 2 months

Text

King Thrash's Greatest Fear

Floyd and Barb lounged in the living room, engrossed in playing with a small, black, fuzzy bat, a pet-sitting favor for one of Riff’s friends, Sid Frett. Barb, in particular, was thrilled with the task, her desire for a bat of her own making her especially eager.

“Come on, Roxanne, you can do it! Catch the string!” Barb encouraged, animatedly wiggling a stick adorned with a string and ball in front of the bat. Roxanne, the bat in question, though advanced in years, made a valiant effort to engage with the toy, her movements slow but determined.

Floyd, too, lent his voice to the chorus of encouragement and buoyed by the support of both, Roxanne managed to latch onto the ball at the end of the stick. At this small victory, Barb let out a delighted squeal.

“You did it, Roxanne! Oh, who’s the best little bat? You are!” Barb crooned affectionately to the furry creature, gently petting her as she basked in the attention. Floyd, mindful of the bat's sensitive hearing, offered his applause in the form of soft, fingertip claps. Amidst this tender scene, the front door swung open to reveal the bat enthusiast’s father, KING THRASH, stepping in.

“Greetings, kids, how have you been—AAAAH!” His words cut short at the sight of Roxanne, the king let out a scream, promptly turning on his heel to race upstairs, where he secured himself in his room. This left Floyd, Barb, and even Roxanne, bewildered by the sudden exit.

"Sooo, your dad just... screamed and bolted like my little brother does when he sees a tarantapuff plushie," Floyd remarked, an eyebrow arched in amusement. Barb simply blinked in response, a bit puzzled herself, and shrugged. "I've never seen my old man freak out like that. Makes you wonder... what spooked him?" she mused.

"Well, let's piece this together; it must be something he saw that sent him sprinting. So, perhaps there's something unusual in the living room that scared him?" Floyd posited, touching a finger to his chin, lost in thought.

"Alright, detective mode on! I definitely don't want an encore of Dad hitting those high notes like a classical troll with a fractured wing," Barb declared.

As Floyd and Barb embarked on their quest to uncover the source of King Thrash's terror, they approached their investigation with the kind of seriousness usually reserved for finding lost remote controls.

Starting in the corners, Floyd peered behind curtains with the intensity of a cat stalking a laser pointer. "Maybe he saw his own reflection and got scared?" Floyd suggested, only half-joking, as he checked behind a particularly shiny vase.

Barb, meanwhile, dived into the piles of old records like a rock troll in a mosh pit, sending albums sliding across the floor. "Found anything?" Floyd called out. "Just Dad's old 'Hair Bands of the 80s' collection. Oh, the horror," she replied, holding up a particularly vibrant album cover featuring an excess of hairspray and leather.

Moving to the houseplants, they half-expected to find a creature from the depths of Troll Forest. Barb lifted a pot, only to find... "Aha! The lost city of...dust bunnies," she declared, uncovering a thriving civilization of lint and fluff. Floyd shone the flashlight like he was about to tell a ghost story, only to illuminate a very confused spider contemplating its life choices.

Inspecting the shelves, they handled each trinket as if it might explode. "This one looks suspicious," Floyd said, examining a snow globe. "Because it's from the 'world's most boring landmarks' series?" Barb asked, peering over his shoulder at a globe filled with the thrilling scene of a very flat and uneventful field.

As they checked the ceiling for airborne intruders, Floyd mused, "Maybe he saw a ghost? Or worse, realized he's been wearing his shirt inside out all day." Barb, wielding the broom like a sword, cleared away cobwebs, only to disturb a congregation of dust particles that glittered in the light like a disco ball gone wrong.

Finally, behind the TV, they hoped to unveil the ultimate horror. Instead, they found a lost pizza slice that had somehow mummified rather than molded. "Eureka! We've discovered the ancient relic of last week's movie night," Floyd announced, holding it up with a grimace.

Despite their exhaustive search, turning the living room into a scene of comedic chaos, they found nothing amiss. No beast, no ghoul, not even a mildly upsetting painting. They stood amid the disarray, a pair of intrepid explorers who had braved the wilds of the living room and emerged not with answers, but with an even greater mystery: What on earth had made King Thrash scream like he'd just seen the ghost of bad fashion past?

In a scene that would have stirred envy in the most dramatic of opera houses, Barb had collapsed onto the floor with the grace of a tragedy-struck heroine, her limbs sprawled in the timeless pose of despair. She lay there, a portrait of exhaustion, as if the very weight of their fruitless quest had crushed her spirit and pressed her into the floor's embrace. Nearby, Floyd, whose legs had long since surrendered to a more stationary life due to a calamity of their own, felt a weariness in his upper body that might rival the fatigue of marathon runners after their 26th mile.

Yet, in this tableau of defeat, a small, fuzzy beacon of comfort made its presence known. Roxanne, the venerable and fuzzy bat, sensing perhaps that Barb needed a companion in her moment of dramatic desolation, cuddled up to her, a tiny creature finding solace in the company of a fallen rock princess.

It was then, amidst the silent camaraderie of defeat, that Floyd had his epiphany—a moment of such startling clarity that it might have illuminated the room better than any lamp. His voice, charged with the force of this revelation, broke the solemn silence. "Oh my SHUUUUGAR!" he exclaimed, a mixture of astonishment and humor lacing his words. "The only thing different here IS THE BAT! HE'S SCARED OF THE BAT!" With a dramatic flourish, he pointed at Roxanne, the unwitting harbinger of terror for King Thrash.

The absurdity of it all—of their exhaustive search, of the dramatic collapse, and of the tiny, cuddly creature being the source of such unfathomable dread—struck them. The scene transformed, from one of tragic exhaustion to a comedy skit that might have the audience rolling in the aisles. Roxanne, oblivious to her role in this revelation, simply snuggled closer to Barb, while Floyd and Barb were left to ponder the hilarity of their situation, the laughter bubbling up from within them like a wellspring of joyous relief. The living room, scene of their dramatic quest, now echoed not with the sounds of despair, but with the hearty, healing laughter of two friends united in the most unexpected of discoveries.

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

Upstairs, in the fortress of solitude known as his bedroom, King Thrash was engaged in a heroic battle of his own. With the fortress gates (read: door) firmly locked against the onslaught of the world, our valiant king found refuge under his most trusted shield—a blanket of unparalleled fluffiness. In his arms, he clutched his loyal squire, a pillow of great comfort, as he braced for the siege of fears that lurked beyond the fabric walls of his castle.

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

Meanwhile, back in the living room, a revelation struck Barb like a rogue note in a power ballad. "Wait... THAT'S WHY HE WON'T LET ME HAVE A PET BAT!" she yelled, the pieces of the puzzle crashing together with the subtlety of a cymbal smash in a quiet library. The realization dawned on her not like the gentle rays of the morning sun, but like a spotlight at a rock concert, blinding and undeniable.

The absurdity of the moment wasn't lost on them. Here they were, in a tale that no ballad or epic saga could hope to encapsulate—the story of a rock legend, his bat-phobia, and a pet that never was. Barb's proclamation echoed through the house, a mix of incredulity and revelation, as if she had just uncovered the secret to the ultimate riff.

Somewhere, in the depths of his fluffy fortress, King Thrash might have felt a disturbance in the air—a shift in the very essence of rock 'n' roll itself. And downstairs, amidst the remnants of their laughter and the shock of discovery, Barb and Floyd shared a look that said, "This is going to make one heck of a story at the next gig."

The saga of the bat-fearing king, the thwarted pet aspirations, and a living room investigation that would go down in the annals of rock history was born, not with a whimper, but with the uproarious laughter and the kind of absurdity that only true legends could inspire.

--------------------------------------------------------------Okay THIS is the shortest chapter iv ever done, but im treating you guys to a little fun in the story before..........well,😈

#trolls #trolls au #trolls world tour #trolls floyd #trolls barb #trolls king thrash #king thrash #trolls fanfic #trolls fandom #trolsl fanfiction #calm before the storm

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kirakiwiwrites · 10 months

Text

Hi friends! So it’s been a minute lol. Why? A whole slew of reasons like migraines, a new job, traveling, carpal tunnel, and good old fashioned writer’s block. Are we still working on a one shot for Obsidian Castle and another new multi chapter story? Yes. Three actually. We will be posting new stuff soon. Thanks so much for all the love from Obsidian Castle too. So happy everyone has enjoyed it!

Anyway, we thought to get out of the little rut, we would participate in the @klaine-word-scramble. It looks like so much fun and if you haven’t checked it out you should! So here is our first one, just a very short one shot full of cute fluff. The theme for most of these will probably be future fics like this one. We will also post these to FF.net and A03

Thank you to all who organized it and come up with all the fun scrambles!

Disclaimer: We do not own Glee, the characters, or quotations from the show.

(Aug 1 scramble - 979 words)

Craft day:

“Do we need more glue?”

Blaine scratched at his head before grimacing as he realized his hands were covered in glue. now his hair was also covered in glue. The stuff was everywhere. “No, I don’t think that’s it.” He scanned the directions while he wiped at his head. “If we add more glue, things could get worse.”

His eight year old son Michael huffed a sigh and poked at the goopy substance in the bowl. “What about more glitter?”

Blaine shook his head slowly as he tried to make sense of the mess they had made. “Oh god no. No more glitter.”

It looked as though a glitter bomb had exploded in their kitchen. There was glitter on everything: the floor, the cabinets, them. Glitter had even somehow ascended to the top of the fridge and landed amongst the mousetraps they stored up there. It was quite a mess.

Michael blew the dark curls he inherited from his father out of his eyes and glitter puffed out and slowly and floated down. “Did we put enough activator in?” He spread his fingers and purple glittery glue gunk made strings across them. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be so sticky.”

Blaine made a noise of agreement before he realized two of the pages were stuck together. Carefully, he peeled them apart and saw they had missed a step.

“Okay, kiddo. I figured it out. Grab that spatula and stir until you think your arms are gonna fall off.”

Michael did as his father told him and stirred, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. “What do I do if my arms do fall off?”

“Use some of the glue and stick them back on. I’m going to clean up a bit before—“

“What did you two do to my kitchen!” Kurt exclaimed as he clutched his face in horror. He stood in the doorway, his keys and a brown paper bag in one hand. “Did you blow up a disco ball?”

Blaine winced. “Oh, hey honey.” He gave his husband his most charming smile. He cleaned faster. “You’re home early!”

A little giggle came from their six year old daughter who had spent the morning with Kurt. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she took in the mess. “Mikey looks like the shiny troll from that movie!” She set down a matching brown paper bag and skipped over to the counter where her brother was stirring vigorously. “I want to do it too!”

Kurt set his bag down quickly beside his daughter’s and gingerly picked his way through the disaster zone. “Tracy! Wait! At least change your clothes first!” He sighed and accepted a kiss on the cheek from his husband. She was already elbow deep in the concoction and chuckling maniacally.

“Don’t worry, Kurt,” Blaine said brightly. “I’m going to have all this cleaned up before dinner. How did it go making candles?”

Kurt leaned tiredly on the counter, then remembered it was covered in slime and stood upright. “We actually had fun until Tracy decided things were too calm. She decided she didn’t want a normal cat shaped candle, but she wanted a headless cat shaped candle that would bleed when she burned it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Blaine mumbled as he picked out some sparkley glue from his arm hair. “Has she been watching Wednesday again?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and grabbed a dish towel. After wetting it, he began to carefully wipe the glue off of Blaine’s arm. “I don’t know but I’m having a hell of a time encouraging her to express her creativity while also not making the other children around her cry.”

Blaine thanked him for the glue and eyed the room with another grimace. “It’s a precarious dance for sure. You do a wonderful job.”

Kurt smiled and kissed him just as their children screamed in triumph.

“Dad! Papa! Look! We made slime!” Michael held up a blob of purple goo studded with glitter.

“Can I eat it?” Tracy asked as she squeezed some through her fingers.

“No!” Blaine yelled in alarm at the same time Kurt yelled, “Absolutely not! Don’t you dare put that in your mouth!”

Tracy glared at them for ruining her fun, but then got distracted by the shiny slime. Michael gave her a very brotherly look that said he considered her only a step above an animal.

“Why are you so weird?”

“Am not! You’re weird!”

“You’re the one trying to eat slime!”

“I just asked! I wasn’t gonna do it!”

Kurt took a deep breath and released it as Blaine continued to clean the kitchen. “Kids! Enough!” Kurt interjected, hands on his hips. “Mikey, don’t call your sister weird. Tracy, don’t ever eat anything unless you know it’s food. I will not have fighting on craft day!”

Blaine nodded solemnly in silent support as he scrubbed at a dried pile of goop. He accidentally upset a pile of glitter that puffed out in a cloud and caused him to sneeze.

Michael shrugged and continued to stretch the slime out and whirl it like a jump rope between his hands. Tracy stared down at the small bit in her hand. “I wasn’t gonna eat it,” she grumbled.

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stay calm. “Alright. Help me and Papa clean up the kitchen and we will all go out for pizza. Deal?”

This was met with cheers of agreement from the two children who took wet paper towels offered to them by Kurt and set to work wiping up glitter. Kurt smiled at how determined they were and grabbed the broom and dustpan.

“Thank you,” Blaine said with a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt replied as he started sweeping. “But buckle up because next craft day is painting and Tracy had me take her by the cemetery for ‘inspiration’.”

“Of course she did. But it’s fine because in the Hummel-Anderson house, we support weird.”

“Absolutely.”

*words used from the scramble:

Candles (pretty sure this is the unscrambled word but shhh don’t tell lol)

scan (scanned)

land (landed)

ascend (ascended)

clean

dances (dance)

deal

#klaine-word-scramble #glee #klaine #klaine fanfiction #fanfic #kirakiwi #oneshot #noideawhywenamedtheirsonmichael #itseemedtofit #future!klaine #blaine anderson #kurt hummel

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theficcafe · 2 years

Text

𝐆𝐎𝐃’𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 - 01

↳ Genre: Angst, Fluff

↳ Pairing: college!gojo x fem!reader

↳ Warnings: unrequited love

↳ Playlist: (will link here!)

↳ Masterlist: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10

“A single metaphor can give birth to love.”

You have always been the universe’s favorite - at least that’s what you, the internet, and your load deck of tarot cards have been telling you.

Every thought you’ve had seemed to manifest in their own way, may it be bad or good. You recall the first time it happened, it was on your best friend’s (disastrous) 18th birthday. Shoko Ieiri is the only girl you’ve promised to marry once you both hit your 30s and are both single; This Ieiri, the heir to the infamous Shoko clan, though she does not act like it at all; and most importantly, your “till death do us part” (because you both thought having the label as best friends sounded overrated)

The party was an hour away, and a panicking Ieiri had been running around in circles after receiving the news about how the birthday party agency her parents have paid to handle the party needs have forgotten about the disco lights Ieiri has specifically asked for (though you have no idea how it’s going to be the “life of the party”, as she puts it).

“I’m going crazy!” Ieiri exclaims, putting her hands up in exasperation as she slides down the wall you were leaning onto. Unlike Ieiri, you were calm (mainly because this wasn’t your party) - but that wasn’t an excuse not to share the panic with Ieiri, your best friend since eighth grade, who you’re convinced is your soulmate and will end up marrying due to how close your bond her was.

You sighed, sliding down next to her with worried eyes, “Ieiri, there’s still an hour left. They could make it just in time - they left like, twenty minutes ago.”

Ieiri raised her head after burying it between her legs in hopes that it would lessen her panic. “One of the staff texted me and said there’s terrible traffic due to a road accident tonight.” She pouted, letting out a defeated sigh as she looked at the party area behind her, “Maybe we can like, use our phones' flashlights to create some sort of disco lights. You know, DIY.”

You let out a laugh, one that made Ieiri turn to you with a scowl and a “what’s so funny?”

“I just don’t think that’ll work. Two phones’ flashlights can’t possibly fill the whole place, Ieiri. You literally live in a castle. It would be too little.” You tried to soothe her worries by rubbing her shoulders gently. Ieiri had just finished getting her hair and makeup done thirty minutes before she went into the disco-lights frenzy, with all the stylists in the house chasing after her, making sure her makeup was still in place. They gave up 10 minutes after Ieiri began running around in panic.

Ieiri bit her lip and looked down, sadness evident in her eyes, “I guess you’re right, Y/N. No disco lights for us tonight.”

Though you didn’t really get how a disco ball is supposed to make the party better, you understood Ieiri and her love for things like this. Ieiri was obsessed with shiny things, pretty lights, and loud music - she loved going to home parties thrown by popular students in your school just because she loved the feeling of basking underneath colored lights. You remember asking her the first time in Miho’s backyard - a classmate of yours who threw a birthday party (which only reeked of illegal alcohol resulting in you literally dragging Ieiri away from the scene and outside) - why she loved the lights so much.

The only response she gave you was a grin and a soft “You’ll know someday.”

Reaching out for her hand, you gave her a reassuring squeeze and a soft smile. “Just relax, Ie. I have a feeling they might be just by the door now. You never know.”

Just as you uttered those words, the door bursts open.

Five men came in groaning, carrying the large disco ball in a hurry. Ieiri suddenly stood up in delight, jumping up and down in excitement, which made the stylists run back to her again to scold her for moving too much. You, on the other hand, were a little bit taken back at what just unfolded, but you dismissed it as mere coincidence and walked over to the grinning Ieiri.

Ieiri grabbed your shoulders and shook you with all her might, eyes sparkling with wonder, “Were you just God a second ago? That was so cool! That literally happened after you spoke.”

Shaking your head, you pinched her cheek, earning a glare from the stylist who just retouched her makeup a minute ago. You smiled sheepishly and threw a peace sign. “It’s just a coincidence, Ieiri.”

Except all throughout your high school life with Ieiri, it rarely failed you.

Your high-school friends have begun giving you the nickname “God’s Tongue” for having been predict events as accurately as you can. Sometimes, you would just utter a word and it would literally manifest in a minute or so; it came to the point where Ieiri was so convinced that you were magical, resulting in her fortune-telling business (that was literally established without your consent), where students pay you two dollars for a quick “fortune-telling” session (which earned you a hundred bucks and a whole lot of fame because of Ieiri’s scamming marketing skills).

After graduation, you had a strong feeling that Ieiri would be moving away when you were both filling out your college applications. Despite her playfulness, Ieiri had big dreams. You listened countless times whenever she talked about how she realized her dream was to become a doctor someday, and that the opportunity for her dream to manifest to the fullest was in Tokyo. This was confirmed when she showed up at your doorstep teary-eyed, letter in hand, on a regular Tuesday. Your mother had been away for work, leaving you the only person in the house since your father worked overseas.

“I got in!” Was the only sentence uttered between the two of you before the deadly silence. No one uttered a word after that. You could only stare in shock before you both burst out crying because this meant that Ieiri will be leaving your small, lovely town in Osaka, to pursue her dreams in Tokyo. No more sleepovers, horror movie marathons (with Ieiri just faking to be asleep just to find an excuse to close her eyes), and spontaneous late-night café hopping at 12am. At first, it sucked not to have Ieiri by your side during your adulting stage; it felt different having to tell stories to her through Skype than doing it in person. Being away from her had been difficult in the first six months, but gradually, you both have gotten used to Skype calls and Netflix parties (with Ieiri still faking her sleep on horror movies). On breaks, Ieiri would travel across Japan to stay with you for weeks before she has to go again. This became a cycle, until your 4th year of college.

You glanced away from your worksheet and checked on Ieiri, whose soul was so close to passing out on her desk. You had been on a skype call with Ieiri for three hours, working on your university course works. Just recently, you proposed being her “accountability” buddy after witnessing her breakdown from the anatomy exam result she got over a week ago.

You lightly tapped on your laptop screen, a playful smile dancing on your lips, “You’re not gonna save lives drooling over your review papers, Ie.”

No movement.

You cleared your throat, trying your best to muster a deep voice, “Ms. Ieiri, you’re getting an F on your exam. You will repeat your entire 4th year of college -”

“ - What? No! I study so hard!” Ieiri jolted up, eyes hazy, but brimming with anger. She looked around for a few seconds in confusion before realization dawned on her. She groaned, enticing a laugh from you. “You’re evil, Y/N. I was literally dreaming of my anatomy professor!”

Shaking your head playfully, you stuck out your tongue and rolled your eyes. “You’re not really doing a great job at being my accountability partner. Every time we study together, you’re either falling asleep or spacing out on your paper works.”

“I disagree.”

You scowl.

She sighs, rolling her eyes playfully. “Fine. I know I’ve been spacing out on my course works a lot lately but it’s only because I want this term to be over so bad,” whack! “Sorry, my phone fell.”

You glanced back at your paper and started to solve equations again whilst listening to Ieiri ramble on and on about her plans for the summer break. You could only nod and mumble short replies since you were focusing on acing your thermodynamics take-home quiz - one of your favorite subjects. Though it was Ieiri that found her passion in being a doctor someday, between the two of you, you were always the Science genius. That’s why even before her declaration of pursuing her chosen degree, Ieiri already expected you to take up Science-related programs close to hers. Your curiosity and wit led you to major in an honors program in Biology.

“..and you know, we’re going to have so much fun when you arrive here!” Your head perked up at the statement, confusion evident in your face. Ieiri stopped for a second and looked at the screen in silence, eyes wide, before slapping her forehead in irritation, “Fuck! I ruined the surprise!”

By this time, you’re not paying attention to your thermodynamics quiz anymore. You leaned a bit closer to the screen in anticipation, “What do you mean ‘when I arrive there?’ I haven’t saved up that much to buy a ticket, y’know.”

Ieiri couldn’t help it. She cracked a smile, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly as she spoke, “That’s why I bought them for you!”

Sighing, you closed your booklet and grabbed your laptop, transferring it over to your bed. You laid down with the device on your stomach, frowning at Ieiri. “You didn’t have to, you know. I would come there anyway. I just needed to finish one more shift from the cafe I work at to finish saving up for the ticket.”

Ieiri pouted. “I know, but I really miss you.” a bit of shuffling, and then whack! “Sorry, my phone fell again. God, I am so disoriented tonight. Anyway - it’s my thank you gift for helping me with my schoolwork all the time. Especially with Math, you know! You’re the one getting me through college,”

You chuckled. Throwing all the ticket-thing away, you agreed in the first part; you were mostly the mastermind behind Ieiri’s perfect scores on her physics and chemistry worksheets. You’d spent extra time teaching her over video call on how to solve them, but most of the time, both of you would give up by the final hour and you’d end up answering all the problems. You didn’t mind, anyway.

Glancing over the bottom right of your screen, your eyes widened when you read 5:04 am - that means you and Ieiri have been on the call for hours now! You groaned, forgetting that you needed to be up early at 7 am for your final exams. But then again, this was a normal routine for you as a science major. “Ie, it’s already morning - how did I not notice that..” as if on cue, all the tiredness from your all-nighter study session with Ieiri (and her ramblings) suddenly took over your body. You couldn’t help but yawn, making Ieiri frown.

“Go to sleep sleepyhead,” She mutters, her voice laced with exhaustion as well. “In a few weeks, we’ll be together again!”

You lightly laughed at how romantic that sounded.

After an exchange of good-bye’s, the call finally ended. You debated on whether you needed to sleep or just drown yourself with two cups of coffee and stay awake ‘till you couldn’t (because you’re afraid your alarm won’t wake you, anyway), but after five minutes of having an existential crisis, you finally decided to nap for a bit.

While mindlessly scrolling through your feed, you couldn’t help but go back to your conversation with Ieiri earlier. It’s true that you miss her a lot, and that you weren’t having a lot of fun back here in Osaka, holed up in your dorm room 24/7 and living off onigiris and ramen packs from the store across your unit - compared to Ieiri, whose university is closer to her home, so that means she gets to spend time with her family more.

And Tokyo - oh, the city of Tokyo. The bright lights, busy streets, and tall buildings that seemed to tower over everyone had always been a wonder of yours; you had so many questions to ask. You wondered if the air was better there, or if celebrities casually walked around the streets of Tokyo - because the way Ieiri talked about it, it seemed so magical. Or maybe it was the lights. The chatter. The noise reminds you every day that you’re alive and they are the proof; the city itself. Maybe that was why everyone was in love with that city.

Maybe the universe sensed that you were yearning to be somewhere else in the meantime, just enough time to get a break from everything. Maybe it heard your painful cries every time you hit a roadblock and pitied you. And somehow, with Ieiri’s kindness, and of course, the power of having the universe bend at your will, you have manifested another desire of yours again.

Ding!

You looked at the notification.

You furrow your eyebrows.

You have always been the universe’s favorite - having been blessed with the “God’s tongue”, as Ieiri puts it.

The universe bends at your will.

What you did not expect though,

was an enigma in the form of a person - the kind you could only read in books.

❗ EMAIL NOTIFICATION: You’ve got a mail from Gojo Satoru!

The kind you’d rather not read.

(If you only knew how much the universe has in store for you, you would’ve never answered.)

↳ note: hi, everyone! it’s kao :D

this is my very first jjk x reader fic which i wrote at 4am because i just could not get the idea out of my head. i’ve already outlined how the fic will go and i’m so excited to deliver all the ✨ angst ✨

a feedback/reblog would me a lot to me! hope i could write this one with consistency •ᴗ•

#angst #satoru gojo angst #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru #gojo satoru angst #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo satoru x reader angst #gojo satoru unrequited #jjk angst #jjk x reader

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districteightdurixx · 6 months

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who: duri park & @crestshen where: the tribute gala

the outfit that had been given to her for this event was, to put it bluntly, a little tacky for duri's taste. perhaps that was because it was too shiny, stood out too much. silver, fringed, hugging her down to her thighs and stopping just shy of her knees. the heels, twisting up her legs with silver ribbon to match, were uncomfortable to walk in. she was surprised there wasn't some gaudy headpiece to go with it, to cap off the look. she had hastily taken out the dress to give her just a little more breathing room, but there had been no time to deal with the fringe.

"if you're going to tell me that i look like a disco ball, i don't need to hear it, i've already worked that one out for myself." her eyes glanced up from a pair of nice shoes, up long legs, admired the more tailored look before reaching crest's face and offering him the briefest of sardonic little smiles before her expression faltered back into flat and uneffected. "interesting crop of tributes this year, hm?" she pointedly didn't want to talk about her own tributes, though the sympathetic looks she'd been shot all night long had been enough of a hint that pity was going to be here theme this year.

#duri.threads #duri+crest #crest001

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quietwings-fics · 7 months

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Home Sweet Home

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Gen (Gabriel & Fen) Additional Tags: Moving, Home, Furniture, Past Gabriel/Kali (Supernatural), Pre-Canon, Gabriel-centric (Supernatural), Domestic Summary:

Gabriel moves in.

Gabriel flicked on the lights to an apartment that was bland and dusty. Beige walls greeted him like lazy cows, with barely a glance to acknowledge his existence before they went on chewing their cud and farting. The light above, the only light in the whole place, flickered from the effort of the Herculean task he’d set it. The double windows on the other side of the room had droopy eyes from the broken blinds, half-covered on one side with the other missing to reveal the grime crusted into the corners of the glass.

Under Gabriel’s arm, Fen wriggled. He’d been stuck there patiently for at least half an hour while Gabriel had danced along with the motions of getting his documents in order and his keys handed to him. The lady down in the office of the complex had had eyed him with suspicion, but how was she supposed to know that Fen weighed a couple hundred pounds more than the sixty pound limit on dogs in the building? He was light enough to toss around when he wanted to be.

Gabriel lifted him up to give him a kiss on his tiny wet nose, receiving a dozen enthusiastic licks in return before he set Fen down and let him pad around the edges of the room.

“Bit of a fixer-upper,” Gabriel mused. The ceiling above him creaked as his upstairs neighbor moved around. He made a face. Fen sat in the middle of the floor and whined at him. “Not as fancy as Kali’s place, I know.” He scowled because the other option was to admit to feeling heartbroken, and he wasn’t doing that until he’d set up a TV and a dozen pints of ice cream for good measure. Fen flopped down against the floor and pouted. “Stop acting like a child of divorce and help me pick out where the furniture should go.”

Gabriel didn’t really have a vision of what he wanted the place to look like yet. He was flying by the seat of his pants. One thing he did know was that the pitiful excuse for a kitchen that was tucked into the corner had to get more inviting. Cabinets that didn’t look like they were falling off their hinges and a stove that was halfway between shiny-new and well-loved rather than familiar with the rust on its burners. He opened the fridge they provided him, and then he shut it just as quickly. There were things growing in there that God never imagined. Gabriel blinked that fridge away and put a new on in its place. Right at the foot of it went Fen’s dog bowl.

What was the point of having grace if he couldn’t have fun redecorating? Make the dishes do a little song and dance before they tucked themselves into the cupboards and retile the walls with a snap of his fingers and sweep away the old wooden flooring for carpet until he’d made himself a nice nook. He leaned back against a small dining table he didn’t have to carry up six flights of stairs and took it in with pride.

Fen yelped as Gabriel started playing with the living room next. Whips and chains with mood lighting to match turned into housewife chic with a light up poster above wine before noon gave way to a disco ball scattering light over the whole room. Fen chased one of the glittering beams, sticking his nose into it like he could catch it. Damn, but Gabriel missed disco. Humans let things fall out of fashion too quickly. Disco, plaid dresses, the guillotine… By the time Gabriel was catching up on the fads, they were already years out of date.

The light was kind of headache inducing once the novelty wore off. Gabriel sighed and sent it back beyond the veil where the style of ages past belonged. He rolled out rugs under his feet, tiger, zebra, bear, but the heads always gave him the creeps, so he went psychedelic instead, all fuzzy pinks and greens and blues with plenty for fluff to sink his toes into. Fen rolled across it like a kitty on catnip.

Gabriel could lean into sleaze. That was fun, the sharp contrast between the bright and welcoming kitchen and his den of hedonism. He dropped himself back into a cushy loveseat, first blue, then purple, then red when he settled on it. He made sure the carpet would match while the walls turned to complimentary wood. He popped the leg rest up and leaned back on his arms as he worked out the rest of the room: a couch too green to tell if it was dingy and too dark to check for stains, magazines littering a coffee table with two ringed marks doubled up on the left side and coasters that would never be used stacked just next to them, the light above them finally getting a rest as Gabriel swapped it out for a dimmer bulb.

Gabriel took a deep breath. The loveseat squeaked under his weight.

Fen popped up, paws on the footrest and tail wagging so hard that Gabriel could hear it beating.

Gabriel patted his stomach. “Here, boy,” he called. Fen leapt up onto him and squirmed around until he was comfortable enough to flop down in Gabriel’s lap. Gabriel scratched behind his ears. “What do you think? As good as our last place now?” Fen huffed in disagreement. “You’re not exactly helping me get over her, you know.” Fen’s tail thumped against his chest as he pushed his nose onto Gabriel’s arm like an apology. Gabriel sighed. “Well, I like it,” he said, mostly to himself.

He’d still have to sort out the bedroom later. He was thinking dark pink bed, heart-shaped, sheets like satin and covers thick enough to feel squished under them. Lava lamps? Maybe a shelf to store knick-knacks on. All the good stuff he’d found over the years, his personal sketch for modeling for Michaelangelo (and definitely earned the night after) and the ankle bones of an old vessel he’d loved (he should go visit her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandkids sometimes soon, make sure they’re getting on alright) and… one of Lucifer’s feathers (which would spend half of its days displayed where Gabriel could see it and half of them shoved into a drawer where he didn’t have to think about it.)

Home sweet home, if he did say so himself.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

#SPNArchangelWeek #fanfiction #1001-5000 #general audiences #spn #genfic #gabriel & oc #gabriel & oc (fen)#gabriel spn #oc #oc (fen)#pre-canon

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onlygenxhere · 9 months

Note

juke 42 + 60 for the prompts 🫶🏼

Luke and Julie were finally alone.

It had been a long day of meetings and they’d had very little alone time in well over a month.

Julie lay back against Luke taking a sip of her wine as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders holding her close. “I think we need a vacation.” She took another sip of her drink and sighed, “Just the two of us.”

He gently took her glass from her and took his own sip of the red liquid before placing it on the table beside them. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb for a moment just taking in the beautiful women he was lucky enough to have in his life, and in his arms, before leaning forward to kiss her.

Julie ran her hand up his chest to his shoulder and then up behind his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

They were really getting into it, making out like a couple of teenagers when there was a loud crash from upstairs and they broke apart with a gasp.

“What the fuck was that?”

They looked at each other for another moment when they finally heard a young voice say, “Mom?”

“Shit,” Julie breathed out under her breath as they both jumped up and rushed to the stairs.

Their twelve year old daughter Violet was standing at the top wringing her hands.

“Violet?”

“Everything’s fine.” She nodded quickly and tried to smile. “Just a slight accident, we’ve got it under control.”

“All of you are supposed to be in your rooms if not asleep.” Luke started up the stairs with Julie coming up behind him.

Violet tried and failed not to roll her eyes. “It’s summer, no one is asleep dad.”

Luke stopped at the top of the stairs and frowned at his daughter, “Even Rocky?”

She snickered and then stopped when she saw her mother’s face. “Um, he’s the one that came to get me and Logan.”

“To do what exactly?” Julie crossed her arms and gave her oldest a hard look.

“Well…” she started and then there was another crash followed by a scream and all three of them ran down the hall to the bathroom.

Luke threw open the door to see one of the makeup mirrors broken on the floor as well as the girl’s makeup caddy dumped over and its contents scattered across the room.

That must have been the most recent crash because both their ten year old Logan and their four year old Rocky were sitting up on the counter staring down at the mess on the floor in horror.

Logan’s arms and face were painted entirely blue and Rocky had so much glitter on his face he practically looked like a disco ball.

“Okay… this looks bad.” Violet said peeking around them into the chaos.

Luke looked down at Julie who was biting her lip trying not to laugh. If she started laughing, he was going to start laughing and they had to be parents right now and not laugh, at least not yet.

He pulled Violet around him and sat her up on the counter with her siblings so she didn’t step in the mess. “Explain.”

Logan and Violet started talking over each other at the same time but he and Julie managed to decipher out the gist of it.

Apparently this had all started when Rocky came in their room unable to sleep because they’d been talking about cosplaying Steven Universe for the last week and he wanted to see if they really could paint Logan blue like Sapphire.

Julie held up a hand to stop their explanation. “Ok, but then why is Rocky covered in glitter?”

Their son grinned at them. “I look all shiny!”

Luke pursed his lips and looked down at his wife whose eyes were sparkling with mirth. She swallowed her smile with a sigh and turned back to their children. “Ok, so here’s what we’re going to do.” She took a careful step in the room and picked up Rocky handing him over to Luke.

Oh goodie now he got to be covered in glitter too.

“You’re going to take your son to our bathroom and get him cleaned up and back to bed.” She nodded at him and he almost said ‘yes boss’ but the kids thought it was funny when he called Julie boss and this was not the time to be making jokes.

He was the dad here after all.

He and Julie would probably laugh about this until they couldn’t breathe later when they finally had time alone to talk again.

“Violet and I are going to clean this up while Logan jumps in the shower and works on getting that blue off.”

“Ugh mom,” Violet whined.

Julie stopped her whining with a look. “I know you hate being the oldest sometimes but you are and while it’s not your responsibility to police your siblings you could have come and gotten us.” She pointed down at the broken mirror on that floor. “Someone could have gotten cut on that.”

Both girls’ eyes ticked up to their little bother in his arms. As much as he annoyed them sometimes they loved him like little mama bears.

Julie gave Logan a hard look, “The only reason you’re not helping is because I don’t want you staining your sheets blue.”

Both girls sighed and nodded.

Julie turned to him and bopped Rocky on the nose. “And your daddy is going to have a talk with you about being up after bed time and roping your sisters into something that could have waited till tomorrow.”

Rocky nodded at Julie wrapping his arms tighter around his neck. “I’m sorry mami.”

“I know,” She smiled at him and both he and his son smiled back at her. “Ok, off with you two.” She turned away from them and shut the door so Logan could get in the shower.

“Ok, buddy,” Luke sighed, “Let’s get cleaned up.”

It took just as long as Luke expected to get the majority of the glitter off his son which was about five times longer than a normal bath. Just when he thought he had him clean he’d see another sparkle.

“Rocky, I am banning all glitter and things with glitter in them from this house.” He growled making his son laugh as he rinsed him off for the fifth time.

Rocky blinked water droplets off his eyelashes and smiled at him. “I like the way the glitter sparkles. It’s cool!”

He couldn’t help smiling at his son’s enthusiasm for shiny things. “Ok, maybe we can find some glittery nail polish or something.”

“Oh yeah! I bet Uncle Alex or Aunt Flynn have some!” Rocky bounced.

“I bet they do.” He laughed and shook his head. Thinking they’d probably gladly take his son shopping for glitter nail polish. “Come on buddy let’s get out I think you’re as clean as you’re going to get tonight.”

“Aw, do I gotta?”

“Yes you gotta,” he laughed again grabbing a towel and draping it over his shoulders and then wrapping it around his body tightly as he pulled him from the water.

“Bad and naughty children get wrapped up in the blanket burrito for their crimes.”

Rocky was abnormally quiet as Luke dried him off.

“Am I really bad daddy?” he asked in a small voice as Luke rubbed at his hair.

He stopped and really looked at Rocky who was tearing up. “No, buddy you’re not bad.” Luke pulled him into a hug. “You just made a bad choice tonight that’s all.” He wiped the few tears that fell as Rocky nodded at him. “Maybe next time you can’t sleep because your head is too full of ideas you come find me or mami?”

“Ok daddy.” He sniffed. “I’m sorry the mirror got broken.”

“It’s ok,” Luke kissed him on the forehead. “I’m glad no one got hurt.”

He stood and scooped Rocky up in his arms. “Maybe you could help your sisters out with their chores tomorrow as a thank you for cleaning up the mess tonight.”

Rocky laid his head on his shoulder finally getting sleepy. “I can do that.”

“I know you can.” He said as he carried him down the hall to his room. “You’re getting so big.”

Rocky yawned, “I know.”

Luke laughed as he sat him on the bed and got him some clean pajamas and quickly helped him dress.

“Ok big guy bed time.”

Rocky didn’t argue as he climbed under the covers.

Another yawn escaped him as he snuggled down between his stuffed bear and turtle.

Luke knelt down beside the bed and ran a hand over his son’s head. “What are we going to do next time we can’t sleep?”

“Come find you or mami.” Rocky mumbled.

“That’s right.” Luke leaned over and gave him another kiss on the forehead. “Good night Rocky, I love you.”

“Night daddy, love you too.”

Luke stepped out into the hall shutting the door quietly behind him. The door to the girls’ bathroom was still shut. It would seem date night with his wife was canceled. He headed downstairs to clean up the wine and maybe look up some potential vacation destinations.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #writing prompt #dude this took longer and was way harder to write than it had any right to be.#woosh #this was the last ask #it was totally my brain's fault not the ask #happy juke jeudi!

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tessathegamefreak · 11 months

Note

Fix-it Felix AU cast? Meet Petaluma! A fusion between Neko and Neris! Their reactions?

OOC: Also drawn by @redscorpiocat

AU Felix: "GAH! So much glitter! It hurts my eyes a little..."

AU Ralph: "Ooooh! Shiny!!!"

Kane Candy: "Whoa, that ith a lot of pink! Almost ath pink ath the rest of this game"

Scientist Calhoun: "Oo-kay! As much as I like to examine each fusion, you might be too bright and glittery to bring into the lab"

The Princess and Servant:

Princess Vanellope: "Whoa, you are so grand!"

Not-So Sourbill: *in a joking tone of voice*, "Hehe, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to show up the princess!- I mean-", he quickly cleared his voice, before pretending to act sour.

The Troublesome Trio:

Adorabeezle just squealed when she Petaluma and her glittery outfit.

Gloyd: "Wow, that's a lot of glitter..."

Snowanna: "You are so glittery, I think you shine brighter than a disco ball"

Turbo: he quickly hides further under the bench "Are you craz'y!? You are s'o sparkly, you are going to draw attention over here; I am trying to hide!", He harshly whispered.

#wreck it ralph #ask #fix it felix au!#kane candy #fix it felix #scientist calhoun #princess vanellope von schweetz #not so sourbill

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songjo · 1 year

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Diary: T&K Live in Newcastle

Well, it's been so long since I've been to a PUBLIC EVENT, and I have a relatively small number of friends who are part of this fandom, so I figured I'd write a little summary to send into the tumblr ether (where I lurk among T&K content anyway). And, to be honest, mostly for me to look back on, because it was so fabulous and I do not want to forget the feeling.

Long story short: possibly the best thing I've spent money on this year. Perhaps even on par with Except money spent on travel to see loved ones.

So I went to see the show at O2 City Hall in Newcastle on 8/12, which is located fortunately close to mine, since I knew I would have to go at the end of a working day. It was also the day of the first snow up in the North East, and we got the social-media posts from T&K stuck on the LNER service up from London. Trains have stopped running in the UK for less, and I'm just glad that they seemed to have avoided the fate of rail-replacement buses.

Impression on arrival: very mixed and happy crowd. All a bit cramped in the downstairs bar at the O2 (cramped mostly because of covid-resurgence/strep A/general winter bug concerns). For those who saw the backstage clips/photos from Obsessed where they were getting changed in what looked like a stairwell: the O2 is nearly 100 years old and grade II-listed (and it contains an organ with a Grade 1 certificate), so renovations would have to be highly considered, and I'm guessing that the dressing rooms were too far away for the quick changes.

Then I sat in my seat for about an hour, with Duolingo, watching the ads, hoping nobody taller would sit in front of me, deciding until the very end whether to buy merch now and have to somehow hold it all night or to buy it later. The North East is a place where nothing placed on the floor of a concert venue/club/cafe/shop is safe. Not from theft, but from spilled drinks.

The thing about having tried not to get too spoiled about the show, and failing to a certain degree, is that the anticipation is raised. So when the curtain drops and Trixie is there, it was pretty surreal.

They looked so good. I can't remember exactly where it was that T talked about Katya's performance being influenced by how good she thinks she looks (was it a tour bts clip?)... but the matter of that fact was that they looked GOOD.

Both T&K attempted the Geordie accent, and that was good too.

Whoever does their research for each stop is obviously meticulous - they knew that having Sunderland being the butt of jokes would go down well in Newcastle.

When they needed to gesture to the disco ball they couldn't find it. At first, I didn't even know if it was a gag, but apparently it's usually behind them, but it was in front of the stage (and suspended in the air ofc) this time.

The lighting was amazing? Pretty much every sparkly outfit was fully blingy. I'm sure this is by design, but it's worth mentioning.

Did I say that they looked good yet? Ugh.

The crowd duly cheered for the first outfit changes (black-and-white sparkly mini, which T paraded around; and the shiny red robe, which K modestly said "oh it's just a robe"). And also subsequent outfit changes. Some very VERY loudly. Even when T put on the boa (during the part where they were fighting and angrily throwing the contents of their clothing rails into their trunks), which earned an exasperated "it's a boa. *pose*"

Tbh, I think we just cheered very loudly for allsorts. At one point T went off-script (I think?) and said "are y'all just really drunk??" (crowd: more whooping) This is, for better and worse, very Newcastle.

T joking about being old is always funny since she's younger than I am. But I expect I elicit the same feeling when I joke about being old (and genuinely loving it) to older friends and colleagues.

The dancers are all adorable.

T fixed K's skirt when she's lying down on the stage just before Wind Beneath My Wings again. Maybe this is habit by now? When T first comes out on stage when K is "passed out", and asks where K is, nobody in the crowd actually said anything... T: "Thank you for being dignified enough to not point out the obvious and going 'she's behind you!'" (No idea if this was scripted, but it was a fun interaction.)

The little interlude/scene-change music was so funny, and had the exact right feeling for them?

During the TEDxxx portion, K was just in a black leotard. When T came in to do her talk, K wiggled out each time, and the screen (obviously) zoomed in on the butt.

T in her "T-is-K" get-up, in person, is insane. It already looked amazing on fancams but I guess being in the room heightens everything? Also, I don't know what the sound systems are like in their different venues, but the bass was dialled UP at City Hall, and Rasputin going into Ding Dong was a moment. It nearly became an unfortunate moment because T looked liked she lost her balance a teeny tiny bit and leaned backwards, but she's a pro's pro the number proceeded as usual. (I then played Ding Dong all the way home in my car.)

Seksi was everything I'd hoped it would be.

In fact, every choreographed piece was even better in person.

When T and K are tied up and Kelly Mantle is being the Klarma CEO, the girls are one point say, "murder is illegal in this country right?" Crowd: *crickets... then laughs*. K: "we leave tomorrow right?"

Kelly Mantle is amazing and I want all her suits. When Sandy returned from being locked up in the Klarma dungeon, her bangs were covering her eyes. (T&K both smiling, T stays smiling until she remembers to act again) T: "you gotta uh fix your wig there Sandy?" S: *adjusts hair* "I don't wear wigs, this is my hair."

At some point, when Sandy comes out looking for K, and K is mostly definitely not on stage, the crowd then went, "she's behind you!" And Sandy humoured by having a look behind her and then scolding us for messing about.

Can I just say one more time that the costumes are so fabulous? And the non-full-number music choices equally so?

It was just really, really wonderful.

I had planned to try to only take it in with my eyes, but I couldn't resist recording some of it as well. Clips will come up in due time.

#trixie and katya #trixie and katya live #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #t&k live

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