#if I could run around on stage in a stupid costume | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ioniansunsets · 7 months

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✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Birthday Special ✖

✖ Word Count: 836

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: I think of this as a 10pm-2am party on the 30th so Kayn can quietly pretend its a party for his real 31st Birthday.

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It was irritating, he'd have to admit. A full day of media and paparazzi chasing him. All he wanted was to by your side, to celebrate with you, to not have to phase through walls just to hide from the crowd. The crowd that was even worse than usual because it was Halloween night. He clicks his tongue as he pulls his facemask up to hide away from the crowd.

" Gods help me."

He whispers angrily under his breath. Almost like an answer to his prayers, Ezreal pops up and drags him down an alley, helping him to slip away from some fans and find his way to the club that you told him to meet you at. It was the usual spot, Heartsteel's favorite bar, the bouncers already waving to let Kayn and Ezreal in.

" Everyone's waiting LMAO! You're so late." " You're late too loser. The fuck you on about!"

Ezreal laughs as he flings the doors open. You, with the help of some others in Heartsteel booked out the entire club for Kayn this night. A hustle and bustle as K/DA and some other friends of Kayn's hang out, laughing and drinking. Cheers from everyone as he walks in, everyone wishing Happy Birthday on what he personally thinks is the wrong day. But attention is attention and he can't say no to a little fun at night. Everyone in little Halloween costumes, high fives, loud laughs, awkward hugs he talks to everyone, socializing and thanking them for the wishes. Yone graciously DJ-ing for the party, Akali pointing him a middle finger as they make eye contact but showing up to the party anyway, Sett and Aphelios trying a hand behind the bar to make drinks for the party. K'Sante sitting by a table talking to Alune and the rest of K/DA. But still, something was wrong, he sees all his friends but where the hell were you? The you who was arguably the most important person to him. The you were the one who invited him here anyway.

" Happy Birthday Kayn!"

At the sound of your voice he perks up, immediately putting his drink down to turn and find you. As he spots you a little away he basically runs over to throw his arms around you, lifting you up and giving you a little spin as you hug him back.

" My favorite person! Where the hell were you! I'm only here because you told me to come by the way."

He sticks out his tongue in mock irritation, arms still around you the whole time. All the attention and well wishes from everyone could never compare to your love. Ah how he loved your smell, your cute laugh, your stupid teasing smug face as it stared at him. He leans down giving you a quick kiss before letting go. Resting his arms across his chest waiting for a good explanation from you.

" Took a while because I had to get this finished for you."

You defend yourself, you hold up a present for him. It was small, suspiciously small for a gift for someone as amazing as him, but it was from you so like hell he won't complain. Picking up the box for your hands he holds it up, shaking it a little, no noise. Curious now he opens it, face immediately lighting up. He puts the wrapping down behind him as he holds up the gift.

" Oh fuck is this...?"

You nod as he examines it, a custom guitar strap. Designed like his recently solidified aesthetic from the Paranoia MV, bright colors, a yellow base, pink, purple and green accents with an imitation of his signature down the strap. Little handmade patches of him and Rhaast on the corner, hearts the colors of all the boys around the middle, and finally your initials sneakily sewn in the underside next to Kayn's right where the strap would meet the guitar, there, yet hidden from view so he could still use this on stage. A beautifully thought out way to have something of you near him all the time, even when he was on tour, on stage or in his studio. How personal... Kayn laughs, a hand returning to pull you into him, he leans down close to your ears as he growls out softly,

" Damn babe...you're going to make me emotional."

A blush rising up your face, Kayn turns to give your cheek a quick kiss. A hand sneakily rising up to wipe something away under his eyepatch. You take note to tease him about it later.

" All custom made and details hand sewn by the way, I got K'sante and Sett to help me."

" Thank you. Amazing gifts from you as always."

After a quick kiss on your forehead, he pulls away from the hug, hand wrapping around yours as he drags you to the bar, the brightest smile on his face as he gives Aphelios a nod to make drinks for you two.

" Now let's properly celebrate together."

#i'll proofread this later #im done with my essay teehee back to writing now #HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAYNIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU #Ionian Sunsets #Shieda Kayn #Shieda Kayn x Reader #Heartsteel!Kayn #Kayn LoL #Kayn League #Kayn League of Legends #KaynLeague #SCENARIOS #League of Legends Scenarios #happy birthday kaynnnnnnn xoxoxoxoxo #also by other friends of kayn i imagine zed shen and jhin just sitting at a table drinking whiskey or someshit LMAO

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pandorasword · 18 days

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Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

PTD On Stage in LA | Day 3

❒ genre: Slice of life

❒ words: 972

❒ summary: In which Chaeri uses Tae's beauty to her benefit

❒ prompts requested from the dialogue prompts game: “Wow, I really can’t speak, huh? Must be because of how pretty you look”

She was never good with words. She preferred facts: solid, reliable, hard to misunderstand. Words, on the other hand, always seemed elusive, ungraspable, especially when she had to use them in English. The situation worsened drastically when she found herself in front of thousands of people, right after singing for two hours non-stop. What was so difficult about a simple 'thank you'? For her, it was a real mystery. In fact, she didn’t believe a speech was necessary to express the emotion she felt every time. Hearing her songs sung by so many voices, with different accents, but with the same passion she put into them… she was sure it was evident during her performances how much she appreciated and was grateful for everything.

But it should be considered that those who cause their own misfortune should weep for themselves. She knew that day would come. She had all those years of experience and a highly competent team to ignore the inevitability of that moment. She could have taken the time to prepare a few sentences in English, memorize the pronunciation, and say them on stage. Instead, look at that, she had done nothing and couldn’t even remember why

In just a few seconds, all the times she had literally fled the room when she saw the English coach enter came back to her. It was almost like a scene from a cartoon: he came in one door and she scurried out the other, as if her only purpose in life was to avoid that conversation.

She had to refrain from slapping her forehead for being so stupid and irresponsible. She was still on stage, under the gaze of thousands of people.

Tae had just finished his speech. His English was insecure, his pronunciation questionable, but at least he had said something.

That evening, he stood out among the other seven, entirely dressed in red with a mask on his face, he had fun dancing and singing in a costume inspired by the Squid Game series, which had conquered the world in record time. And the crowd was ecstatic. A true show genius, born to capture attention: that's who Kim Taehyung was.

A shiver ran down her sweaty back, a testament to the hours spent jumping and running, reproducing the choreographies she knew by heart for that performance.

It was her turn to speak.

With an uncertain gesture, she brought the microphone to her lips. Embarrassed, with no idea what to say or how to formulate a coherent speech, she searched the most remote areas of her brain for a foothold, a memory, or anything that could help her find the right words.

Then, suddenly, the screams of the crowd became so loud that they overwhelmed even her chaotic thoughts. Behind her, on the huge screen, appeared Taehyung who had removed his mask.

And, damn, he was breathtakingly beautiful.

At that moment, a fleeting memory from a few days before came back to her: she remembered Namjoon, visibly irritated, trying to watch an episode of Friends. The younger members of the group were making noise around him, forcing him to restart the same part of the episode several times because he couldn't hear the lines.

Yes, that line she had heard repeated at least five times was perfect, and luckily, it had stuck in her mind.

She turned towards Taehyung, just a few meters away from her. The blue lenses of his eyes shone under the reflection of the multicolored stage lights, accentuated by the glows of the armybombs not far from them.

“Wow, I really can’t speak, huh? Must be because of how pretty you look”

The crowd roared in approval, shouted for the interaction, clapped for the way the boy's cheeks turned red, almost as red as his costume, because of the unexpected compliment.

The rest of the members burst into laughter, teasing Taehyung, while she realized that the attention from her speech had successfully been diverted elsewhere.

What a perfect end, she would have shaken her own hand in congratulations.

Later, in the backstage

“Chaeri-yaaaaa, you made me blush like crazy out there. Did everyone notice?” said Tae, walking beside Chaeri, an arm around her shoulders and almost all his weight leaning on her, partly from the exhaustion of the evening, partly because he loved to tease her.

"Every single person here saw how red you got" Jimin replied with an amused smile before the girl could, taking the perfect opportunity to tease his group mate when he was usually the butt of the jokes.

"Aish" Tae sighed theatrically, faking a look of devastation "my reputation as a tough guy is ruined because of you, Chaeri-ya."

Chaeri raised an eyebrow. “When have you ever had a tough guy reputation?” she said with a playful tone

"Hey, you" a sarcastic, accusatory tone came from Namjoon as he approached the trio, who were dragging their feet, destroyed by now, along the floor, hoping to reach a place where they could sleep for hours. Many hours.

"Don't think I didn't realize you did it to avoid the speech you were supposed to prepare for tonight" Namjoon looked at her with a look that said it all, the look of someone who raised you and knows all your little tricks.

"Oops?" she looked at him, softening her eyes and curling her lips a bit to look more innocent - which she wasn't - and more forgivable - her behavior was absolutely unforgivable -.

"So you didn't think for real that I was so handsome to leave you speechless?" Tae had pulled away from her half hug to look her in the eyes, his tone high-pitched.

"If it makes you feel better, I really think you're the prettiest of us all"

"Ha! Did you hear that, Hyung? I really am the prettiest"

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi | @cosmicwintr

#bts 8th member #bts female member #taehyung imagines #bts imagines #taehyung scenarios #taehyung x reader #bts au #bts female addition #bts v #bts 8th member au #bts scenarios #kpop female member #kpop female oc #bts x reader #bts idol au #bts au fanfic

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keulixeutin · 2 years

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Hard, Harder, Hardest

a/n: hi.

summary: during a hero panel, bakugou thinks about how he can’t help but orbit you and obey. bakugou x fem!reader.

cw: suggestive. 18+. no pronouns used, but fem!reader in mind while writing + mention of female anatomy; also, reader wears lots and lots of pencil skirts. bakugou pining after you and imagining the nasty. sub!bakugou and dom!reader vibes (at least, i tried anyways lmao). reader wears glasses.

word count: 2,183.

Despite the nonchalant way Bakugou was leaning back in the chair, anyone could see he was stiff and irritable: he was scowling and rigid, the curve of his back not quite following the curve of his seat.

He couldn’t help it though. He was supremely uncomfortable. He hated this shit, hated being on the stage, following some stupid itinerary, dealing with stupid activities and games to get people to see the “softer” side of him. What the hell did people need that for? Wasn’t it enough for him to do his job, protect the city, beat down the shitty villains, and be the fucking best? Number two hero or not, he didn’t sign up for this stupid celebrity shit. They could write a slew of articles complaining and criticizing him, but he hated sitting around in the spotlight.

You, his personal assistant, fucking knew this, yet you still, behind his fucking back, worked with his PR team (and that fucking Shitty Hair Hero) to accept the Hero Convention invite and add it onto his schedule (his schedule that you knew he didn’t look at because he trusted you to be good at your job)—and then to not even to tell him until ten minutes before he was supposed to get ready for it? He had been fuming.

Bakugou’s leg shook underneath the table impatiently and irritably. A woman dressed in a maid outfit with home-made Hawks wings stepped to the microphone and asked Round Cheeks about her martial arts usage in battles. The next fan, someone with blue scales scattering across their face and arms, asked a question to a sidekick three seats away whose name Bakugou didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Internally, he was pleased with this current line of questioning. As long as no one addressed him, he could sit and pass the time with an annoyed glare until this whole thing was fucking done.

But, obviously, the universe loved dashing his hopes. The next person that stepped up to the microphone was cosplaying an older version of the Dynamight costume, which was ego-boosting and cool to see, of course, but that itself wasn’t enough to make any of this entertaining or interesting.

“This question is for Dynamight,” the fan began. “What would you consider your hardest battle? Also, I’m your, um, number one fan…!”

It was an easy question.

People wanted to know battle specifics, but his hardest fight? To date? Currently?

Controlling his fucking raging hard-on whenever you with your stupid perfume and your mean laugh entered the room.

Bakugou hadn’t wanted a personal assistant. Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes stubbornly pushed their agenda onto him whenever they noticed at the beginning of the year that he had been swiftly losing control over his wildly hectic schedule. Between the patrol, the agency work, the hero work, and the unending meetings—all just the tip of the iceberg—he had been struggling to find any time for himself, personally and professionally. Despite his violent vehemence, Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes still strong-armed him by nagging him until they were red in the face and accepting applications on his behalf, narrowing it down to a set of five that he was to choose from.

He had picked you because you looked meek in your photo and you were soft-spoken in the interview; he figured that you’d run off after being on the end of his short fuse for a week straight.

But, by the end of that week, with him having just yelled about the type of tupperware his food was packed in, you had very softly and very firmly told him to watch his fucking tone, or you’d make sure that the only time he sat down for the next six months was on stage in front of an interviewer and audience with a fiercely binding contract that ensured he couldn’t skip without heavy monetary punishment.

(“I have my ex-lawyer-boyfriend wrapped around my finger,” you had said, your voice deadly calm as though you were telling him you had started a new hobby and not threatening your boss, the number two hero. “I will make sure there is so little wiggle room in that contract—every single Hero Convention from here to goddamn China will have you by the balls for the next six months in the strictest legalese. Do you understand me?”

He couldn’t lie—he was shocked into silence by how fucking hot that was, how fucking hot you were, wearing the tightest pencil skirt, shifting your metal glasses while you threatened him.

“Now eat your rice. The leeks, too, please.”)

He couldn’t explain it. Ever since then, things were—different. He was hyper aware of you, of how far away or how close you stood near him, of how you were usually in some sort of skirt; his eyes were glued to your backside, to the sneak peek of upper thigh every time you shifted in your seat, mind wandering to how it’d feel to have that thigh pressed against his neck and his face. He was suddenly obsessed with how you spoke, realizing he had mistaken your quiet for meekness, for submission. You were soft-spoken, yes, but there was a weight to your words, one that required obedience from those you were speaking to. Now he could see that your smile sometimes curled at the corners into a sneer, and that your eyes were sharp, narrowing with a finality he found himself unable to ignore.

Fuck, he was even aware of how you smelled. He often caught himself inhaling deeply as you passed by, trying to preserve the smell of your shampoo inside his chest. Whenever you leaned over to show him something on his calendar, he had to fight the urge to press his nose into your hair, to bury his face into your neck where your veins pulsed with perfume. Once, you had left your jacket at his place after a long night of explaining and rearranging the weekend itinerary to ensure nothing would be amiss while you were out of town. He had fallen asleep with his face pressed into the fabric the entire weekend, your scent lulling him into the most comfortable and serene sleep of his life.

Things got even harder when you caught on. Quick, too, two months in. The skirts got shorter; your shirts were unbuttoned enough for a heated glance of cleavage; and he frequently found you in compromising positions, bending over his table to grab something instead of walking around, or dropping things at his feet requiring you to lean over to pick up. It was hardest when you used this newfound power of yours to get him to do things he didn’t want to do—like attend interviews or take off-days. In his frustration and confusion in the early days, he had once furiously asked if you had a quirk he didn’t know about, to which you laughed wildly in your eyes but coolly said no.

“Dynamight?” The host pulled him from the memory that had began to take over Bakugou’s attention—the one where, after getting caught in a heavy downpour, you had graciously changed in front of him and cruelly wouldn’t let him touch.

Bakugou was about to respond that nothing had been hard because he was too fucking strong, but he made the mistake of glancing to you, standing off to the side with your phone against your ear. You were good enough at your job that you were able to efficiently multitask, paying attention to both the conversation on the phone and the Hero Panel. As if you could feel his intent, you gave him a hard stare, your fine eyebrow raising expectantly at him, almost daring him to put one toe out of line in this nationally broadcasted panel.

The look boiled his blood—and the heat went straight down south.

Yes, things had gotten extremely bad when you had realized your effect on him.

He was grateful for the table.

Bakugou gave an answer about a villain whose name he couldn’t remember but whose shadow soldier-producing quirk had irritated him the entire fight, and then he ended the response with a muttered thanks to the fan.

He glanced back to you, another mistake—“Good boy,” you mouthed.

Fuck. He bit back a groan.

There was a mean glint in your eye as you held his stare; it wasn’t a long one, but it was enough to create a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach; it was enough to make his heart stutter and jump. You turned away first, breaking the eye contact to finish the conversation on the phone, yet it felt like he was the one who had caved.

The rest of the panel continued with Bakugou scowling at a spot on the table or the wall behind the audience, but he participated more than he had originally decided to. He answered the questions directed at him and remarked offhandedly on other people’s answers whenever he felt like it, eliciting laughter from the fans and eye-rolls and playful arm smacks from Round Cheeks.

At the end of the panel, the heroes had twenty minutes to decompress before the meet-and-greet. Bakugou and the others were ushered off the stage and back into the make-up room to relax. After the make-up artist checked that nothing needed to be reapplied, you appeared with a phone against your ear still and a tote bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll check his calendar and get back to you,” you said. “By the end of tomorrow at the latest. He’s currently doing the Hero Panel, but if I can find a moment to check and confirm, I’ll let you know earlier.”

You paused, listening to the person on the other side. Bakugou took the moment to rake his eyes over your form. Your pencil skirt stopped inches above your ankle, but there was a slit over your left leg that traveled up—up, up, and up—to your tantalizing thigh. Your skin was creamy and smooth with lotion or oil. Whenever you shifted your weight in irritation at something that was said, the fat of your thighs rippled in a way that had his mouth watering.

“…As I said,” you continued, “Dynamight is currently occupied with the Hero Panel. If I can grab a moment, I will check with him and his calendar, but I’ll be sure to give you an answer by the end of tomorrow. Yes, of course. Yes, you, too.”

Your voice was light and polite, but dry and firm. You hung up, and then your attention was fucking finally on him.

You pulled several plastic containers out of your tote bag and set it on the table in front of him.

“Don’t scarf it all down,” you advised. “But eat a little. Regain your energy and pick up your mood so you can meet the fans.”

“Not hungry,” he grumbled, wondering if he could convince you to let him rip the slit a little higher.

“Eat the fruits at least,” you said, moving the containers around until the smallest one was on top and opened, revealing grapes and cut apples and mangos.

“You eaten yet?” he asked.

“No, but I’m fine,” you said, but you picked out a grape anyway. His eyes honed in on the way your fingers push the fruit past your plump lips.

Bakugou swallowed, neck tense, heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t know when the leash had tightened so heavily.

“What?” you asked, noticing his gaze.

“Nothing.” He averted his eyes.

“Oh, I see,” you said, amused, and he found that he hated your tone and simultaneously ached for it. “You want a reward for earlier, hm?”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. Despite his attempt at disgruntled nonchalance, his body was obedient to your voice in a way he couldn’t physically deny or control, no matter how much he dug his nails into his palms or ground his teeth. There was always a twitch and shift in your direction; there was always a fiery red on his cheeks; there was always the need to orbit and obey.

“You don’t get anything for properly answering a question the way you’re supposed to, Katsuki,” you remarked.

“Tch. Whatever,” he grunted, suppressing the involuntary shudder at his name on your lips.

“But if you do well today”—you plucked another grape and then pressed it against his mouth—“maybe you can get a reward later.”

You slid the grape into his mouth, fingers lingering at his lips in a scandalous way that journalists would kill to capture.

His body was buzzing at your words. He couldn’t help but hoarsely ask, “What’s the reward?”

“Whatever you want it to be,” you answered, smug as if you could read his thoughts, as if you knew he was imagining you suffocating him with your cunt and thighs, as if you knew that he hadn’t been able to help himself on stage, looking to you as though he would’ve said anything to hear good boy again.

#╰【 FILED UNDER … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ novae writes 」#╰【 FILED UNDER … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ 18+ 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ reader「 no pronouns used 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ reader「 she/her 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ fandom「 bnha 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ character「 bakugou 」#╰【 TAGGED AS … 】❖ ━━━━━ ❛ titled「 hard + harder + hardest 」#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #dynamight x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha fanfic #bakugou fanfic

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enalovesharry · 9 months

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Hard times

summary : harry messes around before a show and gets his zipper stuck on a doggy suit costume and you come to the rescue!

warnings : swearing, crying, fluff!

*currently writing a blurb so have this little thing 😝 ps not really proof read so sorry for any confusion in my outrages writing 😭*

It felt like you had been searching for years, left and right, through all the cracks for Harry at the venue.

Jeff sent you on a mission to find him after he didn’t rock up to the soundcheck right before doors opened and he was set to be on stage in about 2 hours.

You weren’t worried, well not yet you weren’t. You also don’t think they checked his dressing room since he’s like a little energetic 5 year old who’s just had 7 bowls of sugar because he can’t ever sit still.

Knowing that for a fact because he’s either running around the stage, backstage, the whole ass venue or even exploring in some small janitors closet or something. Harry was a mad man, or let’s say he was a handful.

Opening the door into his dressing room you call out his name. “H? Are you in here, you missed sound check and everyone’s wondering where you are.” Closing the door behind you, your eyes dart to the bathroom, hearing someone mumbling in there.

Padding over to the small bathroom in his dressing room you peek your head in and holy fuck.

There he stands in front of the mirror, a large dog head from a costume is sat on the counter and he’s cursing to him self as he turns to the side, trying to rip the small zip down that goes from his neck all the way down.

“Oh my god…” you cover your mouth, walking into the doorway, his head snaps to you, his frown becoming more prominent as he turns fully to you, hands dropping beside him.

“Baby, I’ve been stuck in this fuckin’ costume for 30 minutes.” He’s almost on the verge of tears because of how hard he’s been trying.

It looks like he’s just had some hardcore sex, his hairs all sweaty and there’s sweat along his hairline, cheeks red and a panicked look on his face. His face drops as you throw your head back laughing so hard you could feel your ribs hurting.

“There’s no- no way this is real. Where did you even get this costume from!” You stumble over your words, giggles coming out of your mouth as he stands there like a child who’s just been told off, you walk over to him, your hand coming out to run your fingers against the fake fur on the costume. “You’re such a dumbass. Who knew you were a furry…” you look up at him, he’s still frowning.

“I perform in 2 hours, please get me out of this.” His expression turns serious, a hard look on his face now.

“Mm, I’d rather watch you go on stage in this. This is hilarious! What a story this is gonna be.” You smile as your hand comes up to see if you can tug on the zipper more, you squint your eyes pulling hard on the zipper a few times before you can think-

“Oops.” The zipper pulls off, leaving it with just the thing that connects it, you look to your hand before slowly lifting your head up to Harry, he stands there, eyes wide as he looks down at the zipper piece in your hand. “Well… we have a problem.”

“No, Y/N, no what.” His hands come up to his face, you place the piece onto the counter, feeling guilty because you knew Harry was frustrated having tried to get out of this dog costume for a while, you don’t realise he’s actually started crying.

He leans back against the counter, hands still on his face as he drops his head to his chest, you see his breathing is staggered, breathing unevenly with every breath he takes, you know every sign of him like the back of your hand so your heart does chip a little also knowing that if you were stuck in a dog costume you’d breakdown too.

“Oh baby, don’t cry please. Look at me, H.” You move in front of him, hands coming up to his wrists, tugging on them slightly but he keeps them pressed against his eyes.

“No. I’m crying- why am I crying, I’m so stupid.” He shakes his head. “I’m never gonna get out of this costume, I’ll be stuck in it till I’m in my grave.” He mumbles against his hands, you did want to laugh at how he was over reacting, but that wasn’t right for the situation right now.

“No you’re not, I can work something out. Baby, please look at me, it’s making me sad now. I don’t think someone wants to see me and you crying over a bloody doggy suit.” You chuckle, hands tugging on his wrists once again and he finally moves his hands, intertwining yours with his he looks down at you, eyes red and a small pout on his lips.

You then bring one of your hands up, brushing his eyelashes, wet with tears before wiping a tear that fell onto his nose, leaning up to peck his lips softly.

“Breathe, yeah? I always work things out, y’know that. You’ve been with me long enough to figure that out.” You smile at him and he smiles at you, a dimple finally poking out.

You then focus your attention on the zipper bit where the zipper teeth are together, you move your hands to the gap where the zip was and you pull and to your surprise they pull away from each other easily and you cheer, smiling widely.

“All my magic.. would you look at that, you’re free!” You giggle, pulling it all the way till he can pull the suit off as it drops to his feet, now he’s just standing there, in his boxers. “You’re a mad man, Styles. Still wondering why I didn’t get a warning contract before I started dating you…”

“Heeeeyyy, you love me.” He gives you a open mouthed grin, arms coming out to pull you into a tight hug. “Thank you for saving me, angel girl.”

“I swear if I find you in this situation again, you’re on your own.” You laugh against his chest, hands coming to wrap around his waist.

The situation was resolved and now it was a one of a kind story to tell, if helping him get out of a $30 doggy suit didn’t prove your loyalty to him you don’t know what else would. You loved this crazy man and wouldn’t of changed that moment for the world.

this just popped into my mind how silly

Dividers!! @firefly-graphics 🤍

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x plus size reader #soft harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #sub harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x yn #soft harry

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cranberrymoons · 7 months

Text

put a spell on you

prompt: halloween! (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rating: m? just a few innuendo jokes word count: 1,000 exactly lol tags: fluff, flirting with your own boyfriend, and an ill-advised pair of leather pants that really weren't made to fit over steve's hips 🍑

—

“I don’t even really like Halloween.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Well, you should’ve thought about that before you started dating me, huh?”

Steve just barely holds back his eye roll, and only then because Eddie’s got a piercing gun held against the side of his head and he doesn’t want to take any chances on this thing going in off-center. He’s been assured that it will close up if he changes his mind, or if the right ear thing ever goes out of style, or if Eddie fucks it up and puts it in lopsided.

(“Which definitely won’t happen,” Eddie had sworn the other night when Steve asked if he’d do it.)

“Baby, come on,” Eddie begs. His eyes flick from Steve’s ear to his face. He raises his eyebrows. “It’ll be so hot, and it’s perfect timing now with the piercing.”

“Does the Dread Pirate Roberts even wear an earring?” Steve asks. He tries not to fidget too much, shuts his eyes to block out the teasing tilt of Eddie’s smile. “Can you please just do it?”

“Harrington.” Ker-clunk , a pinch, a surprising lack of pain to the point where Steve wonders if the piercing gun malfunctioned?? and then a little twinge that builds up into a dull throb. “I already did.”

He sits very still as Eddie moves the gun away and fiddles with his ear then cups the side of his face. He bends to press a grinning kiss to the top of his head, and Steve blinks up at him.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Eddie confirms. “Congrats. You’re officially gay now.”

Steve snorts. “I think all the sex with men might have given it away.”

“How many men have you had sex with?” Eddie asks, narrowing his eyes as Steve stands from where he’d been sitting on the closed lid of the toilet and moves to study himself in the mirror, tilting his head from side to side to see the effect. “Is that what you do all day when I’m out on tour?”

His earlobe is red and a little swollen, hot to the touch when he runs his finger along the edge, but the little gold stud sits dead center on his ear, shining in the low light of the bathroom. He feels a rebellious little thrill run through him as he stares at it.

He meets Eddie’s eye in the mirror. “Obviously. What else would I spend my time doing?”

Eddie comes to stand behind him, pressing a kiss to his neck just below the earring as he smooths his hands over his side and hooks his chin over his shoulder.

“Makes sense,” he sighs. He sways them back and forth. “Maybe you shouldn’t wear the costume after all. I’ll be beating the men off with a stick as soon as they get a look at you in leather pants.”

—

The Dread Pirate Roberts, it turns out, doesn't wear an earring, but Steve agrees to put on the costume anyway. It's mostly just him wearing Eddie's clothes, which is probably what Eddie thinks is hot about it, but it could be worse. Even still, he regrets it a little as he struggles his way into a pair of Eddie’s way-too-tight stupid fucking–

“This is ridiculous,” he calls from the bedroom as he's getting ready for the party a few nights later. He gives a little hop and yanks on them as he tries to get them up over his hips. “How the hell do you even wear these things on stage?”

Eddie comes around the door and lets out a laugh when he catches sight of him, and Steve glares.

“Well, you’ve got like three times the ass I do,” Eddie says. He comes up behind him and slides a hand around Steve’s waist. “Can I help?”

“What are you going to do, jerk me off into your pants?”

Eddie blinks. “No, but now that you’ve put the idea in my head–”

“Please don’t,” Steve says. Eddie laughs again and presses a kiss to his temple. “Just… do whatever you were going to do?”

“Here, just–” He makes a face as he pulls, sliding a hand back over Steve’s ass and using that as leverage to pull them up over him. “Do the little jump thing again?”

Steve does, and he almost elbows Eddie in the chin on accident, but somehow the combination of that and Eddie’s grip on the leather and some weird maneuver he does with his other hand, the pants slide the rest of the way up over Steve’s hips and land at his waist. Steve releases a huge huff of breath, and Eddie slaps him on the ass.

“Try not to bend over in them,” he says. “Last time I had a wardrobe malfunction in these things, there were like ten thousand people that saw my dick.”

Steve frowns. “Wait, when–”

“Budapest,” Eddie says. He makes a face. “Last month. Not my proudest moment.”

“Okay, next time that happens… let me know?”

Eddie nods and gives him a little salute. “I promise that next time an arena full of Hungarian strangers see my dick, the first thing I’ll do is call you to tell you about it.” Then he grins. “I was right, by the way. You do look super hot in these.”

“Then you’d better take pictures, because you’re never getting me in these things again.”

—

Later, when the party's done, Steve– weak with drunken laughter– holds onto the bedposts to stay in place while Eddie tries to drag them off his thighs with as much strength as he can muster. They finally come free, and he falls back all at once, nearly crashing off the edge of the bed.

"Jesus Christ," he huffs, collapsing down next to Steve. "Admit it, though. Totally worth it."

Steve angles his face up for a kiss, still letting out little hiccuping laughs. "Next year I'm just going to wear a skirt. Way easier to get off and on."

[also on ao3]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #my fic

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ibringthepoptothecinema · 29 days

Note

i wanna go off on that anon who said dan charged too much for the wad kiswe stream LIKE ITS $20..... AND GUESS WHAT people recorded it and downloaded it and shared it on google drives so it's BEEN available for free so long as you ask around in dm's, phannies dont care abt money barriers, ppl just openly repost phil's cactus club posts. there's so much entitlement in saying he shouldnt have charged money if he was just gonna make something free like come on do you NOT want his show to be accessible? also theyre not fuckin elon musk rich yall like. they're petit bourgeois which means they still do labor theyre not exactly sitting on their laurels to make this kinda stuff like it costs money. venues cost money staff costs money STAGE PRODUCTION AND COSTUME AND LIGHTING THE STUPID GIANT CIRCULAR SCREEN ALLL OF THAT COSTS MONEY!! it's not cheap and yes tickets to go to the show were somewhat pricey (imo i thought they were fair prices and im saying that as a broke person who couldnt afford to go but still) but so much of ticket price goes to arbitrary venue fees or ticket "handling" fees like it sucks but it is absolutely not dan's fault

ok anyway my REAL hot take is that dan's show should have exclusively run in seedy gay bars similar to the 2022 pride shows he did in london but like $20 at the door and and it's at a location called The Sludge which is just someone's apartment illegally turned into a bar, that kinda vibe

Respect this opinion, definitely. Some really decent points. I think as long as everyone’s respectful, differing opinions are okay to have.

I paid for the show irl and I paid to watch it online. Seeing it free on YouTube did kinda make me wish I’d waited but I’m glad I saw the pre show and after show.

I know lots of people did streaming things and lots of links. But tbf to people, maybe they felt embarrassed or icky about watching it ‘illegally’ idk. I’m trying to see it from all points of view.

One point is though like, they are kinda very rich. Not like omg Bezos stupid amount but still, a hell of a lot of money. Double shared income. Multiple channels, books, tours, sponsorship, tv and film cameos. So being able to even produce what Dan did even on a smaller scale takes the privilege of having money in the first place. And notoriety. Not something the average person could pull off.

£20 is a fair bit for people who can not necessarily afford it but really want to see the show/support Dan. But yeah, the money part really probably wasn’t up to him, charge wise.

Dan doing an Edinburgh fringe type of show definitely is a sick idea!

#dan and phil #dan howell #danisnotonfire #phan #dnp #dapg #amazingphil #dnpg #phil lester #daniel howell

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lady-charinette · 1 year

Text

10 years later and Ladybug and Chat Noir are still fighting against Hawkmoth every day.

Akumatizations happen every other day, the citizens of Paris have grown weary.

They are angry.

"10 years of this stupid nonsense and you still couldn't defeat that freak?!"

"My baby has been akumatized so many times since he was a toddler! I can't stand it anymore."

"My wife left me after I got akumatized..."

"Hawkmoth ruined my life!"

"Ladybug and Chat Noir are no heroes, they're useless!"

Ladybug shared a concerned glance with Chat Noir next to her and she speaks into the microphone:"People of Paris, please! We understand your concern, we know Hawkmoth ruined and hurt many people, that's why we fight every day in order to stop him! We will stop him!"

Another man shouted, "Oh, yeah? And when's that? When I'm old and gray?!"

"Ladybug, you have magic and technology on your side, can't you just track him down? Or follow his akumas back to his lair? What about installing cameras everywhere in the city?"

Officer Rodger immediately stepped up. "Ma'am, that is a violation of privacy for the citizens of Paris!"

"I don't care anymore! It's a violation for Hawkmoth to be running rampant for as long as he did! Do something!"

"You don't deserve to call yourselves superheroes if you can't defeat villains!"

A smoothie cup was thrown in Ladybug's direction but Chat Noir's staff quickly deflected it. "Hey!" Ladybug held a hand out to pacify her partner, but the crowd only grew angrier.

"You're no heroes! You're just kids in costumes with magic jewelry playing them!"

"Defeat Hawkmoth or go home!"

"Stop Hawkmoth's tyranny and Ladybug and Chat Noir's incompetence!"

The crowd threw expletives at the duo, Ladybug's shoulders set and her hands clenched into fists.

Her legs began to tremble.

Chat Noir acted quickly and grabbed his partner, using his staff to propel them off the stage and into the safety of the rooftops, away from prying eyes and offending mouths.

"Are you okay, m'lady?" Chat rubbed her back gently, biting his lips when he felt the weak tremors still wreaking over her body.

Ladybug's whisper sounded like a defeated confession. "...They are right, kitty... if we are heroes, then we should've defeated Hawkmoth a long time ago..."

Chat Noir grabbed her hands in his, tenderly caressing over her black spotted knuckles. "Hey, we're doing the best we can with what we have, LB. Hawkmoth is more experienced, he most likely has the resources to keep himself hidden. We can't just track him down with magic, if he could we would've already tried that. Don't listen to them, they're wrong."

Ladybug shook her head. "No...they aren't. Did we try everything? Maybe Alya should've disguised herself as Mayura and waited for Hawkmoth to contact her. Maybe if I had studied the miracle box and found a way to sense Nooroo and trace his presence back to Hawkmoth then-"

"Ladybug!"

The spotted heroine froze, it was very rare for her beloved partner to raise his voice at her. By the narrowed pupils in his eyes, she knew he was furious. "We. Are. Doing. Our. Best. They don't know how we work, they don't know how many other responsibilities and problems we have aside from being heroes! I would wanna see any of them try and be us for a single day!"

Chat Noir crossed his arms, pacing back and forth, the telltale click clack of his clawed feet hitting the concrete of the roof they sought refuge on.

And suddenly, Ladybug had an idea.

"...Maybe you're right."

Chat shook his shoulders. "Of course I am- uh, m'lady?" Spotting the familiar light, Chat Noir automatically turned around and kept his gaze to the sky to avoid spotting his partner's identity. "Mind telling me why it's a good idea to transform back on top of a roof?"

He heard Ladybug walk closer towards him. "Maybe you're right Chat Noir, maybe Paris deserves a chance at being better heroes than us."

Chat stopped himself midway from turning his entire body towards his partner in shock. "Wh- what?! Hey, wait, don't hissunderstand meow!" Chat Noir failed with his hands helplessly. "I was just joking! Do you know how dangerous our miraculous could be if they get into a random person's hands?! Master Fu tested us! But what if a bad person gets their hands on our miraculous."

His partner chuckled. "Remember the fail saves we programmed into our miraculous? In case we ever use our powers for evil, they transform us back into civilians and Tikki and Plagg would hide somewhere safe with the miraculous. It's to prevent Hawkmoth from ever getting them should he mind control us again."

Chat huffed, thinking of incidents where he got brainwashed under Hawkmoth's control. "Yeah, we could've used those a while back." He shook his head, inclined his head in his lady's direction without fully turning. "But... still, I don't know. It's dangerous. Our miraculous in the wrong hands could really mess things up."

Ladybug smirked. "Since the people of Paris think we mess things up, it would be a good opportunity to see them try better."

Slowly, the idea began to warm up to her partner, because he transformed back in the next second.

Marinette and Adrien kept their backs turned, staring down at their worried-looking kwamis.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Don't worry, Tikki, you know what to do if something goes wrong. We still have the other miraculous in case things go south."

"Ugh, why not just give them a different miraculous? How am I supposed to fund my camembert cravings?"

"I'll pack you an emergency bag, Plagg. And please don't destroy the city while I'm not with you."

"No promises, kid."

Marinette smiled, glancing down cautiously at the still rowdy crowd of dissatisfied people. "If the citizens of Paris think being a hero is so easy, why don't we sit back and watch them do it better?"

Adrien moved towards the other side, watching a different crowd slowly disperse. "Maybe we could learn a thing or two."

TLDR: What if Paris isn't satisfied with Ladybug and Chat Noir as their heroes so they get an opportunity to be heroes themselves?

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrien agreste #chat noir #marinette dupaincheng #ladybug #ml au #miraculous #miraculous au #ml idea #my fic #my fics #my idea

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writerofadream · 5 months

Text

Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI!Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

Chapter Eighteen: Tequila under the stars

Today, you all met in the amphitheater. Chris and Chef were dressed in pirate costumes and Duncan’s first reaction was to immediately turn around and say the following. “Alrighty princess, we’ve had our fun now let’s pack our bags and head on home.” but you quickly pulled him down on a seat next to DJ.

“Have we got an adventure in store for thee.” Chris smiled in a corny pirate accent and you were this close to turning around with Duncan. “What’s under the sheet?” Geoff asked the very, very strange man.

“All in good time, laddie.” Chris said in a very cheerful tone. “On a scale from one to ten how mad would you be if I punched him?” Duncan whispered.

“Depends how hard.” You whispered, shrugging. “Good enough for me.” Duncan smirked and was about to stand before Chris spoke again.

“Who here has a hankering for a good ole treasure hunt? Now this one has got a twist, mateys. For what you're looking for isn’t treasure and isn’t hidden.” you slapped yourself in the face at the pure stupidity of the words leaving the man’s face.

“If there’s no treasure, what’s with the eyepatch and the plastic bird?” Duncan asked the clearly insane man.

“Arr shiver me timbers, Good question me boy. You're looking for keys to a treasure chest.” Chris said as he held up shiny keys and Chef unveiled even shinier chests.

You see, the interesting thing about kleptomania is that a lot of the time it’s dormant since the world is such a gray place.

But the second, the second you see a shiny thing your mind is SCREAMING at you ‘mine, mine, all mine’. You were like a prettier gollum. Duncan looked next to him and saw that gleam in your eye. The hunger that drove you crazy that he found so attractive holy SHI-

You all lined up on the amphitheater stage as Chris explained the challenge. Your hidden keys would be on the cards he gave you. Duncan had a ring of fire, and you had a picture of an extremely tall tree. This was going to be easy.

Chris yelled at you to disperse and Duncan dragged you to his place first. A large ring of fire had a key dangling in the middle.

“Call it out?” He asked and you smiled as he started ten feet away from the ring to be exact. You started clapping your hands “Okay, five, six, seven, eight, now run, jump, tuck.” In that order Duncan flipped through the ring with ease.

He landed on his back for some reason though, he was panting.

You walked up with a crooked smile playing on your lips as you helped him up. “What would Coach Oscar say now?” You asked lightly, hitting him with your hips as you began your trek to the woods.

Chris monologues from nearby. “It looks like this couple's past will be more than enough to get them through this challenge.”

The camera came back on you both. “Well I think he’d probably say something like this-” Duncan lightly grabbed your hair and placed it in his lips imitating a mustache. He spoke in a gruff voice.

“Jesus, Tarun. Since when did I say you could suck that much, twenty laps, and carry that L/N girl as an extra punishment.” Before you could stop Duncan, he grabbed you and pulled you into the air carrying you bridal style.

He smiled once you glared at him. You crossed your arms as he began running. “You know I don’t think this is a punishment.” Duncan laughed his evil laugh and you punched his shoulder and that only made him laugh harder.

You arrived at the tree sooner rather than later. It was a really large tree. “You know, as someone not typically afraid of heights, this makes me afraid of heights.” You waved your hand at the tree.

“That’s fair, I’ll catch you if you fall.” Duncan offered and you rolled your eyes. The tree was so tall it’d probably take an hour just to fall all the way down.

“See you in a bit.” You smiled and he gave you a peck on the cheek before you could protest. Then you were off. You launched yourself at the tree and began jumping from branch to branch at a record pace. Chris began monologuing over your video.

“Y/N L/N, Miss Future Tarun, acrobatic extraordinaire, has she met her match this high up?”

The answer was yes, yes you had. At a certain point anyone becomes afraid of heights. But you had a mission, and when you were afraid your body went to work for you. It flipped and twisted, and jumped almost as if it was muscle memory.

You saw it, the key was swinging back and forth in the wind, the sky’s blue had faded away and it had turned a misty black. It was getting hard to breathe. But it wasn’t nighttime. It was 12:30 in the afternoon. This tree was really, really tall.

You reached the top and your hands snatched the key, it was really, really hard to breathe. You shoved the key into your pants pocket, but then you made the HUGE mistake of looking down. “Oh.” You whisper-laughed. You couldn’t even see the island anymore.

You looked back at the tree. Forcing air into your lungs because suddenly you seemingly had forgotten how too. This was NOT okay. You climbed down the tree at a record time desperate to touch the ground again.

Your body was blue from the chill of nearly being in space. Your hands had splinters all in them and you finally reached the bottom sucking in big gulps of air as Duncan wrapped his arm around you kissing your head as you tried to work through your initial panic.

It had been SO high up. There had been no one up there, it was absolutely terrifying.

Duncan was whispering a song as your body worked through the drastic change in temperature. “Three little birds sat at my window.” he forced your fingers to intertwine with him as you felt his pulse beat. “And they told me I don’t need to worry.” He kissed your hair which now smells like pine trees and sap.

You loved singing with Duncan, you forced your mouth open and the words came out albeit at a whisper.

“Summer came like cinnamon, so sweet.” He smiled, that was one way to bring you out of an anxiety attack, do something that you can latch onto, “Little girls double dutch on the concrete.” He kissed your cheek and pulled you up and into his arms hugging you tight.

The camera paused and Chris spoke to the viewers. “Do they make you feel single, they make me feel single.”

Duncan and you had gone back to the cabins to apply one of the nic patches. You sat on the steps, your key hanging on a string around your neck, as well as Duncan’s.

“Who’s your favorite singer?” You asked him and he was quiet for a moment. “Probably Elvis. I bet I can guess yours.” You smiled because he probably could.

“Is it me?” He closed his eyes unsure if he was correct. “Ding ding ding. We have a winner” you smiled and he smirked kissed your lips, and before a make out session was about to occur Leshawna appeared, whispering about Heather messing with Trent who was Gwen’s boy.

Duncan’s face turned sour and your lips set back into a snarl. You were okay when it came to HUNDREDS if not thousands of things. Crime did not bother you, drugs and alcohol did not bother you, cheating, cheating bothered you a lot.

—

Chris had you all meet at the campfire. You were about to sit down but this overwhelming stench emitted out of Geoff and you had to basically hide behind Duncan. Izzy appeared last and you laughed at the ginger.

“Honey you got a snake on your head.” You smiled at the looney girl. “I know! He’s friendly.” The snake's fangs went into the girl's head. “See? Kisses!” She then promptly passed out.

You sighed pulling the snake off the unconscious girl. You kissed her cheek and put a sweater over her body. “Yar, it’ll be time to claim your treasure.” Chris announced.

—

|Trending in X right now|

#chrishipsthem

#izzyxy/nfanart

#mothery/n

#DUNCANJUSTWANTSY/NTOBEOKAY

#grumpygfxflirtybf

—

You all went over to the chests, you were more excited than most. Duncan opened his chest revealing chips and a pack of gum. “Is this the best they can do?” He muttered to himself as you opened yours. Inside was a bottle of tequila and a neon pink blanket.

“I know what we’re doing tonight.” Duncan smirked, pointing at the tequila and blanket. “Drunk stargazing?” You questioned.

“Oh no I was thinking we’d fuck but that’s okay too. I love getting drunk.” Duncan had absolutely no filter. You turned about fifty shades of red and punched his side.

He smiled sideways hugging you and kissed the top of your head.

—

You stared at the camera with a wild look in your eyes. You crossed your legs and snarled. “Cheating in juvie gets you killed, it’s got the same repercussions as snitches. Be happy it’s not juvie, Trent.” You hissed.

—

That night at the campfire it went very quick. Chris threw an extra marshmallow in your mouth which was seemingly becoming a regular thing. But in the end Trent got out. He was so confused.

“I thought I was making friends with everyone here. I even told Duncan that he should shoot his shot with Y/N.” At that you had to smile. In the end you were still the one to kiss first.

But it turns out that Heather had played you all. She made Leshawns think that Trent was a two-timer and the girl jumped the gun getting everyone to vote Trent out. You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. “Oh we’re terrible people.” Duncan muttered to himself. You nodded numbly.

A little piece of your heart broke when you saw Gwen waved goodbye to Trent tears in her eyes. “We truly will have a special place in hell.” You muttered putting a head on his shoulder. He chuckled sadly.

You had set out the blanket on top of the roof of the cafeteria, and Duncan had followed you up there, he grabbed the bottle of tequila and quickly took a swig. You laughed nervously. “Is there a special occasion?” You asked. He smiled. “Just needed some liquid courage.” His lips were attached to yours in an instant, and you both rolled around on the blanket laughing in between kisses.

“The next few days are gonna be really hard.” You whispered your head on his chest as you looked at the stars. Tomorrow was the anniversary of his father, two days after that was your moms.

“Darling, look at me-” He tilted your chin to stare at him. “I could be having the worst day of my life, but if I see you, suddenly everything is better, so I’m not worried.” He kissed your lips as you took another swig of alcohol.

“Come on, bunny, haven’t you realized I am the happiest I have ever been when you're with me.” you laughed at that, “You do realize we’re never apart, the longest we’ve ever been without seeing each other is three days.” You pointed out. “Which is why I’m a joy to be around.” He said cheekily and you smiled leaning over his body to kiss him again.

“I am jealous of the people who get to see you every day, baby you know that?” he whispered in between your kisses. You smiled without replying.

—

“Do you remember the first time when we got in trouble with my dad? The way he talked?” Duncan questioned playing with your hair. You nodded against his chest staring at the stars once more, loving how shiny they were.

Duncan’s father screamed and screamed at you, for hours on end, you and Duncan had been returned to the Tarun household by two police officers that he worked with. Duncan had, of course, been loud, and wild against his father’s control, but you had stayed silent the entire time.

Milo bent on his knees to get in your face, “Do not pretend that you are some, meek, pathetic little girl, when I can see your vicious mind working behind those eyes of yours. Speak out for once in your life, Y/N.” He hissed.

“Your dad may have been the legit devil, but he saw people for what they were.” You whispered. After a few chugs of tequila Duncan always got lost in his memories, and the way he spoke usually got you lost as well. “How about right after your mom died, the way you didn’t really understand what was happening?”

You were four and were staring at the casket in front of you. Duncan’s father had bent down twenty minutes ago and said that your mom was gone, forever, were his words. But you were only four, how were you supposed to know how long forever is? Suddenly your best friend who had black hair cartwheeled over to you.

“How long is forever?” You asked him. He was five, he knew a lot. “Well sometimes it’s just one second.” He sat on his butt next to you, his legs dangling into the pit where the casket sat.

“Your mama might be gone till we are, or she might be fine in a second. We don’t know until it happens. But, you and I? We’ll be best friends till we’re gone. I know it.” He hugged your shoulders and you smiled.

Duncan laughed, “You know, I stole that line out of an Alice and Wonderland play.” You giggled, you already knew. “Duncan, sweetheart I know.” You smiled and touched his face. Duncan stared at you and spoke again. “I’m obsessed with your face, your mind, your heart, your body.” He whispered and your lips sought him again.

“You have me, until every last star in the galaxy has burned out. I will love you Y/N.” He whispered and you smiled. This boy was gonna make you wreck your reputation in ways you never even thought imaginable.

—-

Bonus: TDI Groupchat from your POV

Groupchat: Island Idiots

Me: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do?

Tiger 💚: Have everyone stand.

DJ 🐰: Bring three more chairs!

Gwenny ♥: The most important ones can sit down.

Izzy 🧡: Kill three.

Tiger 💚: CAN I CHANGE MY ANSWER??

—

Groupchat: Island Idiots

Izzy 🧡: What are they doing?

Bridge 🌊💙: Morse code.

Me: YOU TAKE THAT BACK DUNCAN.

—

Groupchat: Island Idiots

Tiger 💚: We need to distract these guys- i wanna go back to the cabin

Me: Leave it to me

Me: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Izzy 🧡: YEP I AGREE

She-devil 👺: wtf no they aren’t?? Its a horse??

Lindsay ☺️♥️: wait whats a centaur?

boy blondie 🏄‍♀️: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

—

Groupchat: Island Idiots

Me: I CAN'T DO IT!

Tiger 💚: I CAN'T EITHER!

Me: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

DJ 🐰: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Me:

Me: I appreciate it,

Me: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

Gwenny ♥: Y/N, heather is opening her phone-

Me: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Lindsay ☺️♥️: Y/N please stop she’s opening the gc

Me: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Me: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Me: NOT FUCKING HEATHER

----

tags: @lostsomewhereinthegarden

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codeopod · 23 days

Text

✨Toddlers and Tiaras AU✨ (joke fic)

Because the parents/patrons have been serving shady mom-manager realness lately🌸🌙🗡️✨🎀🕷️👑💅🏼☠️✨👼🏼🩷✨♟️⚡️

Imogen looked around the small staging room. There were girls her age all around in various bright colors and costumes. Her momma grabbed her chin and turned her to apply makeup. She caught sight of the girl next to her. She was pretty tall for their age bracket, real thin, and a little awkward looking, but she had a kind smile. Another tug turned her to the mirror and she saw the girl over her shoulder; she was blue head to toe and talkin’ a mile a minute with the woman Imogen assumed to be her mom. She seemed fun. The girl to her other side looked about as excited as Imogen felt. She wondered if they all banned together; maybe they could overthrow their parents altogether and be done with it all.

“Momma!”

“Ladies don’t yell!”

“Momma, can I see Flora today?”

“If you’re a good girl and do just as I say and win the Ruby Moon crown, then you can ride Flora next week.”

Imogen huffed and kicked at her too-small cowboy boots. She hated pageants. Stupid makeup and stupid rules and stupid dresses! Okay well, the dresses were kinda fun, but everything else was stupid!

“I wanna go home.”

“We can’t go home sweetie, not until Momma wins us this pageant.” Liliana muttered, fixing her lipstick in the mirror.

========================================

“Mom?”

“We talked about this didnt we, Laudna?”

“Oh, um, Delilah?”

“Yes dear?”

“Can I wear the lace dress today? It’s so very pretty! I looked like a real lady.”

“We will see what the other girls are wearing first.”

“Okay.” Laudna smiled to herself. She loved pageants! She loved getting to spend time with other girls and getting all pretty and dancing around. And, if she did good, her godmother would be so nice!

“Cant have you getting last place again. What an embarrassment that was.”

“I liked that one! It was when I met that nice girl-“

“No friends! Have you learned nothing child?” Delilah bent over to catch her eyes, “Friends are distractions, I need you focused.”

========================================

“Jester! You look adorable my darling.”

“I look just like you!”

“Oh no, you have your own spark,” Marion whispered, adjusting her hair bow until it was perfect before booping her nose, “and you’re going to blow them all away.”

Jester shrunk under the praise, suddenly self conscious. “I have to be as amazing as you! I have to win the crown.”

“You don’t have to win a ruby for me honey, you’ll always be my little sapphire.”

========================================

“Chin up, my child.”

Fearne frowned at her reflection. She looked like a little Victorian child. “Daddy, why can’t I just wear my new dress?”

“This dress won the Ruby pageant for all the women in our family for decades now!”

“It lost me the last one.”

“That wasn’t the dress honey, it was those hick cheats and their ‘innocent farm girl’ act.”

“Imogen is my friend!”

“Well, friends don’t get in the way of family. You are a Zathuda, and Zathuda’s win.”

“I’m a Calloway.” Fearne muttered.

“Not on that stage you aren’t. You’re going to get that crown, and then we’re going to be first in the running for the golden cage.”

========================================

Imogen trudged out onto the stage, fake horsey in one hand as she pretended to ride it. Her Momma was front row, glarin’ at her already and the music hadn’t even started yet! She missed riding real horses. Those nice girls back stage had wanted to see pictures before her mom dragged her up here. The guitar finally started up and queued her to cross the stage. She couldn’t remember where exactly she was supposed to end up though.

“Run, Imogen! Run!” Her Momma whisper-yelled at her, pointing out where she was meant to be already.

She grumbled but skipped her way over to the mark, finishing her little act with a flourish.

“You did so good!” Laudna cheered as she ducked back into the dressing room. She smiled a little shyly but accepted the enthusiastic hug.

“You’re really pretty too.” Fearne added in, stopping next to Laudna. “I hope you win it.”

“Me too!” Laudna giggled. “Maybe we can be top three!”

“I hope so.” Imogen admitted, she did enjoy getting to see her peers, it would be a little sad to not go on to the next round.

“I hope so too.” Added a new girl. She had sparkly hair and glitter everywhere. “I’m Opal by the way.”

“You don’t want to win Opal?” Fearne asked quietly.

“Not really, I mean, I’ve won so many, it’s boring now.” The little girl responded, picking at her nail polish. “Plus, if I win another one of these my sister is gonna freak out.”

“You have a sister?” Laudna gasped. “I always wanted a sister!”

“She’s a butthead, but I love her.”

Imogens eyes widened at the harsh words. She couldn’t help the rebellious spark that flared to life in her heart. “My momma is a butthead.” She blurted before slapping a hand over her mouth. “Y’all got me saying bad words!”

Laudna frowned at her but Fearne burst into giggles just as the door to the audience swung open and Liliana Temult burst in.

“Imogen, what on earth were you thinking! You rolled your eyes on stage!”

Imogen groaned and turned to walk back to her station, knowing her momma would follow. Before she could think better of it, Imogen looked back and caught the girls laughing together. Laudna offered her a sympathetic wave. Maybe pageants weren’t too bad. Sometimes.

#this is fully a fever dream #idk how to tag this #it’s hardly a complete thought #critical role #imogen temult #laudna #fearne calloway #cr opal #jester lavorre #my fics

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tranquilpetrichor · 1 year

Text

nutcracker nerves

synopsis: before you can put on a great nutcracker show, you need to shake off your impending nerves.

cast: ballet dancer!choi san x ballerina!reader

genre: dancer!au, fluff, some comfort

wc: 432

warnings: descriptions of pre-show nervousness

notes: woah, don’t usually use present tense but wanted to try something different. i was gonna publish this before the year ended but i literally came back from our family trip yesterday LOL whoops. enjoy this tiny little thing that totally did not come from me being a dancer...

taglist: @restlessmaknae

despite how warm it was backstage with all the bodies, you could feel chills running up and down your body.

oh god oh god 15 minutes until the show starts, oh god oh god.

this is what happens close to showtime—stage fright plagues you and you find yourself having to make sure your brain doesn't shut off completely.

"ahh, i hate this stupid headpiece." the clip-on bow that you had to wear for the party scene was annoying and could potentially ruin your bun. you want to banish the bow from your wardrobe, but the dress it matches with flows beautifully, so you can’t complain that much.

next, you go to the designated quick-change rack, making sure that all of your costumes are there. all 5 of them are present, but you're not satisfied with their arrangement, so you start moving things around in a frantic yet orderly manner.

someone taps you on the shoulder, and you jump a little, until you realize it’s only your boyfriend wearing the nutcracker head. you’re mildly embarrassed now. "hi, wh—oh my god. don't do that, san, you scared the shit out of me."

he laughs and pats you on the head. “sorry.”

you glare at him, then hit him softly. “you don’t look sorry to me.”

he sets the nutcracker head aside. “aw, i’m hurt that you don’t believe me.”

“i really don’t.” you start shaking your wrists. “but i don’t have time to get payback for you hitting me because i’m hella nervous right now and the show’s gonna start soon.”

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

with a grin, san joins you. “can’t miss out on our little ritual.”

you laugh, trying to ease your nerves.

after sufficiently shaking out your arms and legs, he pulls you into a hug and rests his hands on your shoulders. “i know we don’t have much time, but you’re gonna do great, y/n. you always have. just remember i have your back. fighting!”

since you two were going to be too busy to talk during the upcoming performance, it was good to exchange words of encouragement now.

“ah, that’s my nutcracker prince. you got this too, fighting!” you reply back.

“and i promise i won’t scare you again today.”

you pout. “you’d better not.”

adrenaline running, you check the time on a nearby clock. “oh i should really get into position. see you later, sannie!”

he waves. “see you on stage, princess.”

and although your nerves are still there, you feel better knowing that you’ll get to share the stage with your favorite person.

#kflixnet #kwritersworldnet #ateez x reader #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez san #ateez scenarios #choi san #ateez x atiny #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #tranquilpetrichorfic

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icequeenlila · 8 months

Text

Belly Dancer- SatoSugu

Warnings: Description of Satoru's angelic body, Suguru is a simp

"Come see the show tonight, Suguru!"

Satoru had looked at him with those big, blue eyes and Suguru had to repeat his friend's words inside his own head several times, before snapping out of his daze.

"Why would I?"

Bored. Uninterested. The usual act he put up to hide from his best friend.

"To watch me dance, obviously."

Teeth. Hah. Satoru is smiling at me. Cool, totally cool. Just keep cool.

"Why would I want to watch a lanky giant like you dance?"

Shit. Too much. He's gonna be mad now. Less cool next time.

"Rude!"

There had been a giggle in Satoru's voice and Suguru had almost fainted from the relief he'd felt. However, Satoru didn't back down, and to be honest, Suguru was a bit curious. So, he agreed.

Bad decision.

Because now he was standing here, in the midst of a cheering crowd, in a dark room, moist from booze and sweat, close to a heart attack.

A month or so ago, when money had run short, Satoru had told him about some job he'd picked up to be able to afford a life in Tokyo. Waiting and dancing in some restaurant that also offered a show for its customers.

What is one supposed to think of, when hearing this?

For a month or so, Suguru had been convinced that Satoru is just running around in a stupid uniform, waiting on people and occasionally doing a little silly dance. Like Suguru had seen in the show 'Friends', the both of them liked watching together.

The episode in which Monika had been working in some stupid roller skate restaurant and every time her friends payed into some fund, she and her whole crew had to dance on the bar counter.

It would have fit Satoru. A silly job for his silly (in a very endearing way of course) best friend.

But this ...

Suguru hadn't expected this.

First of all, the word 'restaurant' was obviously just a front. There were tables, yes. But people didn't eat on them. All Suguru could see were drinks and drinks and even more drinks.

It was dark. Moist smoke hanging in the air, the spotlight coloring it purple, blue, pink, red, whatever. The people here were what you'd expect to see inside a strip club or something like that.

And Suguru was pretty sure that's what this 'restaurant' actually was. Just not as shaggy and on the nose. It had more of a theatrical touch, with curtains and a show stage and everything. He refused to describe it as classy, but it really wasn't nearly as scandalous and lewd as other ... facilities he'd seen.

Whatever. All of this was just stuff he caught right when stepping inside here. The girl on the reception had let him enter for free after he'd stated his name, smiling at him somewhat mischievous, telling him Satoru would be the next one out.

Suguru had wrinkled his forehead over the unspoken implement of her smile. He understood now.

Because the man entering the stage, didn't wear a silly costume like in his imagination. He wasn't smiling his silly smile. He didn't look lanky or clumsy at all, like Suguru had accused before.

Nah.

Welcomed by the anticipation loaded cheers and calls of the crowd, Satoru moved over the smooth wood of the stage ... barefoot.

Somehow that's the first thing Suguru noticed.

Satoru was barefoot and he was moving, like walking on clouds. Light-footed and ... and wow.

His best friend waved at the crowd, the flowy fabric of his costume dragging after him, and the cheers swell once more.

As did Suguru's heart. Because. Wow.

Satoru was wearing barely anything. White, flowy pants, sitting low (LOW) on his thin waist, showing off the soft V his hips.

There were small, tinkling adornments lining the waistband, shining golden in the warm spotlight.

A tight top, also white, that run from a golden chain around his neck down to his chest. Tiny golden raindrops hanging from where it ended right under Satoru's nipples.

How Suguru could tell that?

Well, because both, the pants and the top, were see-through all the way.

Suguru could see everything.

Satoru's long legs, his slim waist, the soft but defined muscle of his stomach, his nipples pressing against the soft fabric of that scandalous top. They stood out a bit, woken from the constant friction against the silky fabric. They shone pinkish, contrasting the milky tone of his skin.

Skin. Suguru saw skin. Miles and miles of marble skin and he felt ready to faint.

And that was before Satoru did a graceful spin on the stage, soft smile on his lips and all, showing off his backside.

Skin. Dimples right above the waistband. And ass. Cheez, Suguru could see his best friend's butt. All of it. As far as he could tell, Satoru was only wearing a thong beneath all this nothingness.

Suguru's vision blurred for a moment, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes. He was dizzy. He was sure he'd fold in the midst of this cheering crowd. This crowd that called to his best friend. His best friend, who was standing on that damn stage, waving with a innocent smile, looking like some ethereal wetdream.

To be continued ...

I am either too dense to use the filter on AO3 correctly or there aren't nearly enough smut fics of those two. I wanna change that.

They are my latest obsession. I have read part one of the manga but am already depressed. Thank you TikTok.

Literally all I know about those two, I know out of edits and skits I've watched. If Suguru is out of character ... sorry. This is literally gonna be porn with the faintest of plot, so I don't think it's too bad. Also it's like an AU where they are just normal people, trying to afford rent. I haven't gotten the hang of all the magic shit yet and it fits the situation better.

First attempt at smut. It's possibly gonna suck. If I ever manage to finish it, that is. This is just like a fun side piece I'm writing to get out of my current ... I think it's called 'writer's block' ...

Still haven't dropped any of my Avatar fics, so you must not fear.

Yeeeaaaahhhhhhhhhhh, that's it. Have a nice day. I'm gonna have Ramen now!🍜

(Someday I'm gonna make a second account for random stuff like this. But I'm old, I haven't figured out how, yet. So just ignore this if you're not interested. I will be back on the Avatar stuff)✨💙

#satosugu #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk #ao3fic #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen

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shreyamistry · 9 months

Note

“why are you crying?” + “who cares what they think?” for michael x m!mc ❤️❤️

Pairing: Michael x M!MC

Prompt: “Why are you crying?” + “Who cares what they think?”

Word Count: 2100+

Summary: Running late from a play rehearsal, Michael finds Axel crying alone in the auditorium. The boys have to figure out what comes next for themselves and their relationship with each other.

A/N: Requests are open if you’re interested, find my prompts and rules here!!

Thank you for reading! I hope you like it!

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Michael leans against his locker, his solid form pressed against the cool metal of the locker as he glances at his phone expecting a text from Axel. Typically when running late from cheer or drama Axel is instantly sending out a text on their post school night dates, he’s never forgotten to send a text before now. He frowns, seeing no indication of a message, he glances around the hallways that once bustle with life now decorated with loneliness. He breathes out heavily, shoving his phone into his pocket to go check the auditorium for his boyfriend.

He thinks they might still be rehearsing and lost track of time, he wonders if he’ll see Axel wearing another stupid looking costume that only he could make work. He chuckles to himself remembering the George Washington style white wig and outfit in complete disarray that he found Axel wearing trying to rub an intense amount of powder off his face. He pulls open the auditorium doors calling out for Axel getting no response.

His footsteps are loud as he crosses the auditorium stage, nearly echoing with each movement. He scans around for any sign of Axel in the soft darkness with most of the stage lights being out it’s hard to see clearly. He knows Axel should be here, he was meant to be rehearsing a few scenes with Rory and their other co-lead. He frowns to himself again, starting to worry about what might’ve happened to Axel.

As he pulls out his phone to call Axel, he hears a soft sniffling sound from around the corner at the back of the stage. Michael raises an eyebrow as he edges closer to the noise hoping not to startle whoever’s there and invade their privacy, he might be arrogant but he’s not an asshole. Normally, Michael wouldn’t care about some random dude crying in an auditorium. This would be more of Axel’s scope of knowledge, but on the off chance it was Axel, he didn’t want to regret walking away leaving his boyfriend to cry by himself.

Coming around the corner he finds Axel with his knees pulled to his chest, tears leaking down his cheeks, trying his hardest not to sniffle loudly. His face angled in a way to try and hide the fact he was crying. Michael’s heart shatters in his chest, not missing a single beat as he rushes forward pressing a hand to Axel’s back to comfort him. His movements deliberately as comforting as possible.

“Sunshine, it’s okay. I’m here.” His voice soothing as he runs his hand up and down his red and white Berry High Senior Year t-shirt that Axel wore. The fabric is soft to the touch;the two of them have matching shirts thanks to Mr LaHart, Axel’s dad, who bought them the t-shirts. Michael always thought Axel wore it better. Both boys now in their senior year of high school, their entire future staring down at them. “Shhh. You’re okay.”

Michael’s other arm wraps around Axel’s body, who clings to his arm as though it would save him from being drowned. Michael chuckles to himself, thinking about Axel being the cutest man alive even when absolutely gutted. He can’t help himself from whispering sweet nothing to Axel, trying to do anything with his limited knowledge of comforting others to comfort his one true love.

He wonders what went wrong, surely it must be about the play? He didn’t realize that the plays meant so much to Axel, he thought he cared more about his cheer team. Cheer co-captain with Sydney now that Mia graduated, he should be ecstatic especially with college scouts seeing his prowess on the field and in the classroom. He’s had different schools approach him and Sydney to ask about their future and their history practicing the sport of cheerleading. Michael can’t deny how much he loves seeing Axel perform especially in their uniform.

Michael places warm kisses to the side of Axel’s face that isn’t buried into the fabric of Michael’s green sweater that he gave him. ‘Gave to him’ being a stretch considering that Michael lent it to him once and now Axel refuses to give it back to him, whether or not he drowned in the fabric or not, Axel didn’t care. He always claimed it smelled like Michael and it helps him relax when he’s overstimulated or overwhelmed with life. He can just breathe and remember that he has Michael and it brings him peace.

Michael adores being able to be there for Axel like that, he often found himself incredibly worried he wasn’t good enough for Axel; disappointing people still happened to be his biggest fear all this time later. Axel never lets him think that though, any doubt that crosses Michael’s mind is quickly whisked away by Axel’s comforting and loving words to remind him how much he loves him. Michael knows it’s his turn to return the favor.

“Why are you crying?” Michael whispers against Axel’s skins, his warm lips kissing away the tears that burned his lover's handsomely gentle features. He draws Axel deeper into his arms, watching as the cheerleader sobs louder clinging tightly onto Michael’s dark gray t-shirt, his face burying itself into the warm crook of Michael’s neck. “It’s okay, you’re okay, shhh.”

Michael’s heart aches in his chest. He wants to take away all the pain Axel has ever felt or ever will feel, he wants to protect him from the world and then some. If anyone makes him cry, Michael will ruin their entire life and give them a black eye, he doesn’t care who. Seeing Axel cry this hard made him want to die.

Minutes pass by with Axel sobbing into Michael’s arms still, before he finally starts to relax. His throat raw and hoarse from crying, as he hides himself away from the world still buried in Michael’s comforting embrace. Michael’s hands soothingly rub his boyfriend’s back, coaxing Axel into relaxing and to not cry himself into pure exhaustion. A shaky breath leaves his lips as he turns to look at Michael’s face, cupping his cheeks. Gray eyes stare intently at Axel, full of love and admiration for the cheerleader.

“You’re not going to break up with me right?” Axel whimpers, sniffling loudly.

“What?” Michael gasps, nearly angry trying to stop himself from making a face. “Who the fuck told you that? I’d never consider it. Ever. Seriously.”

Michael pulls Axel protectively into his lap, his hands resting Axel’s waist tightening his hold on the cheerleader who grips Michael’s shoulders with his own hands holding him fiercely.

“I know, I know,” Axel whines, “I’m sorry. I’m overthinking. I just feel really lost lately, my love.”

“I already told you, long distance or not, we’re not breaking up Axel. You’re my entire world and then some.” Michael comforts him, the hands on his waist move comfortingly up and down his lower to mid back. “You’re my sunshine forever.”

Axel giggles sweetly between his sniffles. “God, I just- ugh. It’s something Rory said about Skye and Esme during rehearsal. She didn’t know if they’d survive graduating high school like you and I are. And then Danielle, ugh she’s driving me insane.”

“Who cares what they think?” Michael murmurs softly.

“I don’t, I really don’t.” Axel reassures quickly, he draws in a long breath wiping the back of his hand against his nose. He brushes away the remaining tears on his face, breathing out a relaxing breath before talking again. “Skye and Bailey are perfect for each other, you know? They remind me of us in a way. And then hearing Rory say that and then Danielle having to add her two cents into everything like we’re supposed to care.”

Michael laughs at the annoyed sigh that leaves Axel’s lips. “Sorry,” he instantly adds after seeing the death glare that Axel shot at him, the corner of his lips struggling to stop himself from laughing at his boyfriend’s adorable display.

“Ugh,” Axel feigns annoyance, “Anyways, remember how I told you I applied at University of Cedar Cove,” Axel asks, continuing once Michael nods in response, “they accepted me. Which, it’s fine. Whatever. I wanted to go there so we’d still be together not because they were that great. But Cornell accepted me, they want me on their athletics team full scholarship Michael.”

“That’s fucking amazing, Axel.” Michael grins, pulling back to look him in the eyes, his hand moving to cup Axel’s cheeks still wet with tears that poured out of them moments ago. “I’m so proud of you.”

Michael peppers Axel’s face in sweet kisses, from his nose, his lips, his cheeks, even his eyelids. Axel giggles loudly pushing on Michael’s chest in a mock display to get him to stop. Michael doesn’t, tightening his grip around Axel’s waist holding him close to his body kissing him instantly on the lips.

“So.” Kiss. “Proud.” Kiss. “Of.” Kiss. “You.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs as Michael stops, Axel’s hands still tightly holding the fabric of Michael’s t-shirt. He sniffles again, letting his head fall to the side looking into Michael’s warm and comforting gray eyes, trying to hide the sad smile. “But it’s… it’s really far away.”

“So?” Michael shrugs taking in Axel’s dreamy features, he too hides his own sad smile. The thought of being so far away kills Michael inside, but he wants more than anything for Axel to follow his dreams, “it was one of your dream schools. You’re going. You’ll learn and you’re going to put on that cheer uniform, do some wild looking dances and look hot as fuck.”

“Shut up,” Axel laughs sweetly his thumbs stroking Michael’s features, “it’s in New York. That’s like 3000 miles away, Mr. Harrison. I can’t handle being away from you… let alone my dad.”

“Oh.” Michael whispers.

Axel nods, unable to fight back his sad smile. Michael tries to ignore it, his brain in mental turmoil, this wasn’t their first time talking about the future but then it felt so far away. Even the beginning of the year it felt like it was years away, now one month away from graduation they can’t deny how quickly and overwhelming it felt.

“So what?” Michael shrugs despite his mental, “You’ll come home for breaks and I can come visit you. We’ll figure it out. Same for your dad.”

“I know we will,” Axel sighs, “I want to tell them no.”

“No.” Michael quickly interjects. “You’re not allowed to tell them no.”

“Since when do you-“

“Since now.” Michael laughs, “You’re not telling them no. Your dad and I will manage without you, and he’d beat himself up if you gave up your dreams for him.”

“But-“

“No.”

“Michael.”

“Axel.”

Axel shakes his head despite himself, he’s laughing as he pushes himself up out of Michael’s lap reaching out for Michael’s hands. Michael takes them instantly letting himself be pulled to his feet. Axel leads Michael to the middle of the stage, Michael’s eyes looking around the stage and sets with new found wonder. He arches his eyebrow, turning back to Axel.

“Do you really think we’ll be together forever?” Axel asks softly.

“Fuck yeah.” Michael laughs, earning himself a laugh from Axel as well whose face flushes red. He ducks his head down to hide his smile. “I mean it.”

“You promise? Forever and even then some?”

“I promise.” Michael answers, he reaches into his pocket to retrieve a small green band with a silver outline. “Look.”

“It’s pretty.” Axel smiles, turning it over in his fingers. “I didn’t know you wore rings.”

“I don’t,” Michael laughs, “that’s for you. A promise ring. I got it out of a stupid ass gashapon at Morgan’s job.”

“Big spender.” Axel teases as he slides the plastic ring onto his finger. He twists it around his ring finger, unable to suppress the smile on his face, which in turn makes Michael smile. “Pretty good for 50 cents. And your signature color, green.”

“75 actually.” Michael corrects him. “Green matches my eyes.” He says with a silly dramatic flair grinning at the laugh that leaves Axel’s lips.

“Oooh, even bigger spender.”

Michael crosses the stage taking Axel’s into his arms, his hand finding Axel’s own to twist the ring around his finger with a grin. He brings Axel’s hands to his lips, kissing his inner wrist. Michael’s lips trace from Axel’s wrist to his palm, down to the tips of Axel’s fingers. Axel’s features blushing red as he bites his lower lip.

Michael draws Axel into a hug, his arms securely around his torso, breathing in the scent of his cologne.

“You know, earlier I imagine that’s how Taylor Swift felt when she wrote that line you like so much. The ‘I pictured you with other girls in love, then threw up on the street’.”

Michael laughs loudly, “You’re ridiculous. I don’t like Taylor Swift.”

“I love you Michael Harrison.” Axel whispers sweetly biting back a smile at his antics, his hands around Michael’s neck as he sways them back and forth slowly.

He presses his lips against Axel’s own, capturing him in a passionate kiss. His lips heavy against Axel’s own, as their tongues meet with a satisfying hum. Michael memorizes the taste of Axel’s lips and the warmth of his breath so even when they’re far away he can always remember the pleasure of kissing him.

“I love you Axel LaHart.”

#michael harrison #michael x mc #hss #high school story #choices #nate writes choices #ask #answered #atlas-moons #michael x m!mc #michael x axel #ily caroline 🫶🏻🥺

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nyxnygma · 2 years

Note

Can you do a tommy lee fluff where his wife breaks a bone while dancing on stage and doesn't tell anybody until tommy notices her arm black and blur and swollen pretty bad.

Self-Sufficient || Tommy Lee

[Tommy Lee x Fem!Reader]

Summary: you are embarrassed to ask for help when you break your arm

Warnings: broken bone, alcohol consumption

Masterlist

You tripped. It was a stupid accident. After the show you tripped over an amp and landed on your arm. You swore you heard a crack as you felt a rush of unbearable pain course through your wrist. You eyes went glossy as you held back cries of pain.

Quickly standing up, you made sure no one saw your accident and made your way to the dressing room you shared with two other dancers. You’re wrist was already a pinkish-purple.

You attempted to remove the costume and change into your normal clothes, which included a sweater that could hide you wrist. The only problem was you couldn’t remove the top without flinching in pain.

Tommy knew something wrong when you weren’t there to greet him at the bottom of the stage. He left his celebrating band mates to see if you were in his changing room, where you usually go to change or wait for him, but yet again you were no where to be seen. Thinking you were off running an errand, he sat and waited for his wife.

Meanwhile, you were still in the joint dressing room grunting in pain as you attempted to put your arm in the sleeve of the sweater. The other dancers stared at you funny. You’ve always been against asking for help, ever since you were young. You were afraid that if you did so you would be seen as weak and helpless, so you opted for smiling the pain away. You decided to search for your husband, knowing that he would be able to sense something is wrong even if he can be a bit of an idiot at times.

“Hey, baby, you rocked today,” you smiled widely as you entered the dressing room, “why aren’t you out there doing your usual shenanigans with the boys? Something the matter?”

“I was just looking for you. Are you okay?” He asks, his usual jokey tone gone and replaced with a serious one. “You just ran off as soon as we finished.”

“Oh I just ran to the bathroom real quick,” you lied as you moved to sit beside him on the couch, “I didn’t think you would mind if I changed since I was in the vicinity of the dressing room.”

“Its fine. I was just worried,” he sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and kissing your cheek. You followed up his actions by resisting your head against his chest. You must have let out a whimper of pain as the fabric of your clothes irritated your wrist when you moved. “Everything alright?” He wasted no time in questioning.

“Yep. Nothings the matter, really,” you assured, facing upwards to kiss his jaw. You didn’t mean for your sleeve to move and show your already swollen wrist.

“Shit, babe, what happened,” he sat up straight, eyes glued to your hand.

“I just tripped. It’s nothing. Just a bruise,” you try and wave away his worries.

“Fuck, hon,” he sighs, motioning you to reveal your wrist fully. There is was, the look of sympathy in his eyes. “That’s more than a bruise. That’s broken, believe me when I tell you I know what a broken bone looks like.”

“It doesn’t even hurt that much!” You argue, standing up as you attempt to hide the true amount of pain you were in when you move. You failed.

“No,no,no. Missy,” he shakes his head standing up and grabbing both of your coats and bags, “c’mon. We’re off to the ER.”

“Tommy. I don’t need to-”

“Nope.”

“I’ll be fi-”

“C’mon.”

“I’ll just go to first aid-”

“Ah!”

The drummer ushered you out the dressing room and down the corridors of the venue as you both bickered about if you were fine. Nikki, Vince and even Mick chuckled to them selves as they watched Tommy struggle to convince you to exit the building. “I don’t want you to miss out on a party because of me!” You try to convince Tommy as he stood rolling his eyes at you, one hand holding the door open waiting for you to follow.

“I’m sure it’ll be exactly the same as the other ones I’ve been to,” he shrugs, “can always make up for it by going home and drinking two bottles of vodka Mick style.”

“I’m not weak, Tommy, I can handle a pinch,” you breathe.

“I never said you were weak and if it really only hurts a pinch move it,” he reasons. You stared at him with disbelief at how persistent he was in getting you help that you just sigh and follow him to his car. The rockstar gave a sloppy kiss to your cheek as he opened the car door for you, “atta girl.”

#motley crue #mötley crüe #tommy lee #motley crue x reader #mötley crüe x reader #nikki sixx #mick mars #tommy lee x you #tommy lee x reader fluff #tommy lee x reader

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bookshelf-in-progress · 1 year

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A Christmas Alone: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling

For the Christmas Challenge at @inklings-challenge, I've written a Christmas story that ties to my "Beauty and the Beast" retelling, "A Day Late." This takes place before that story, which makes it technically a prequel, but both are meant to stand alone.

Without further ado, here's:

A Christmas Alone

The dining table held a feast fit for royalty, but Beatrice had no eyes for the food. As she pushed a few limp vegetables around her plate, her gaze wandered to the birds and angels painted on the ceiling and toward the rose gardens outside the vast windows. Her mind wandered even further, past the limits of the gardens to an outside world she hadn’t seen for months, where a little cottage would be covered in snow and filled with the hustle and bustle of Christmas preparations. Her sisters would be baking up a storm today. Her brothers would be hunting for Christmas venison. If she were there, she would be decorating the house in every bit of greenery she could find.

In the distance somewhere, a voice said, “Beatrice.”

What would her father be doing today? Would he be out hunting for the Christmas tree alone? Did he miss her company? Did he mourn her, trapped for so many months in a castle with a beast?

“Beatrice.”

Who would be setting up the stage for the Christmas theatricals? Had she told anyone where she’d stashed the curtains and old clothes they used for costumes? She had hoped to convince everyone to put on a comedy this year, but now that she wasn’t there, Ophelia would probably badger everyone into performing one of her silly sentimental melodramas.

“Beatrice.”

The voice, now raised to almost a shout, snapped her out of her reverie. The dining room—and the massive Beast sitting across the table—came into focus. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Beast’s striped, dog-like face showed concern. It was strange how well she could read the expressions of a dog-tiger-monkey man. His eyes and brows were very expressive. “You seem distracted,” he said in his deep tones. “Is something troubling you?”

It felt impossible to speak of it. That rundown, cozy little cottage was worlds away from this elegant palace full of gold and mirrors and portraits. The Beast did not belong with her family.

And yet...the Beast she’d come to know these last eight months was nothing like the fearsome monster her father had described when he’d come home with the rose. He was gentle. Kind. Patient. A bit moody and dramatic, but reasonable. It was just possible he’d grant this request.

“I was thinking,” she said, keeping her voice far more casual than she felt. “Christmas is in two days.”

Beast' s brow furrowed. “Christmas?” He looked at the gardens outside the windows. “It can’t be. It’s summer.”

“It’s always summer here,” Beatrice said. “That doesn’t mean it’s not Christmas. I’ve been here 226 days, which makes it December 23rd.”

Beast shook his head as if trying to clear away fog. “I suppose it is,” he said at last. “Time rather runs together here.”

That was another reason she needed a holiday. She blurted, “Could you send me home for Christmas? Just for a day or two?”

Beast’s face grew solemn. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

“Why not? You let Father come home with the rose.”

“To settle the debt by sending you to take his place. Now that you have come, it is not in my power to release you.”

“It wouldn’t be release. It would be...an outing. For good behavior. I promise I’d come back.”

“I believe you would,” Beast said, “but I have not found a way to safely allow even your temporary release. The rules of this place…”

“Oh, the rules!” Beatrice threw a napkin, but an invisible servant caught it before it could fly very far. “It always comes back to those stupid rules!”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I think you make up half of those rules.”

“I wish I were.” Beast leaned forward, his strangely human eyes full of sincerity. “Believe me, Beatrice. If I could safely send you home, even for a visit, I would, but I won’t risk your life by sending you too soon.”

Beatrice sighed. Her visions of a cozy Christmas faded. “So I have no choice,” she said. “I have to spend Christmas here with you.”

“Is that so terrible?” Beast asked.

Beatrice thought about the cottage--her brothers and sisters gathered around the table, the candles, the meal, the stories, the jokes, the songs, the laughter. It was rustic and chaotic compared to the luxury here, but Christmas in this vast, silent, elegant palace couldn’t compare.

“It really is,” she said.

Beast bowed his head. “I am sorry to cause you distress.”

He rose from his seat and turned toward the far doors, which opened beneath invisible hands.

“Beast? Where are you going?” Beatrice suddenly heard her own last words in her memory and cringed. She half-rose from her seat. “Beast! Come back here! I didn’t mean…”

An eight-foot tall beast could cross a room quickly. Before she could say more, the dining room doors closed behind him.

Beatrice peered into the library. The shelves, stuffed to the brim with leather-bound books, towered up to the ceiling, every book still in its proper place. Against the far wall, Beast sat in a wing-backed chair next to a fireplace half the size of the attic she shared with her sisters at home. Even in this warm climate, the evenings could get chilly. Flickering firelight cast light and shadows that tangled with Beast’s tiger stripes.

A book lay in Beast’s lap, untouched while he gazed into the fire. Beatrice approached cautiously and peered over his shoulder. She couldn’t read the language, but the pictures suggested it was a scientific text.

At least he wasn’t reading poetry. If he’d gotten into the melancholy ballads, there would have been no talking to him.

She stepped around the chair to face him. “Beast?” she said softly.

Beast looked up. The tips of his pointed ears drooped, his tangled teeth jutted from his jaw, his long tail hung limply over the arm of the chair, but his eyes were so human.

Her carefully composed apology fled her brain. She babbled, “I want to apologize. About before. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not being with you that’s terrible, it’s...not being with them.”

Beast’s face eased, but he didn’t meet her eyes. “I understand,” he said. “It is natural to wish for your family at Christmas.”

“I just keep thinking about...everything,” she said. “The food and the carols and all of them. I’m missing out on it all.”

Beast nodded, “The first Christmas alone is the most difficult.”

Beatrice sat in in the chair facing him. “You have no idea.” A light sparked in her mind, bringing up a new thought. “Wait. Do you?” She perched at the edge of her seat. “Do you have a family, Beast?”

Beast appeared uncomfortable. He looked down and stroked his tail where it lay over the arm of the chair. “Most people do.”

Beatrice’s mind boggled at the notion of an entire clan of dog-tiger-monkey men. “What are they like? Are there a lot of you? Do you resemble your parents?”

Beast twisted the end of his tail in one hand. “There are...many of us. None of them look like me. I am the only one with such...animal features.”

“Is that why you’re here, then? Locked away like the minotaur?”

Beast grimaced. “My family is not responsible for my current situation.”

Yet he would never say what was. She’d narrow it down eventually, but for now, she had more important questions.

“How do you stand it? Being away from them?”

“I’ve become accustomed to the loneliness.”

And she was trying to leave him. She hadn’t thought of it from his perspective before—Christmas after Christmas alone in this silent palace, with no one except servants that he couldn’t see.

“How long have you been here?” she asked softly.

“Long enough to become accustomed to lonely holidays. I would not subject you to it if I had any other choice.”

Here she was, moping over one Christmas with Beast for company, while he’d suffered who-knew-how-many alone without complaint. Yet she still wished she could leave him. What kind of monster was she?

If only she could have it both ways. “I wish we could both see my family for Christmas. Despite how the two of you met, my father would like you if he could know you. My siblings would torment you, but they’d like you, too.”

Beast’s lip pulled up in his version of a smile. “It’s a lovely picture. I wish I could give it to you.”

How stupid wishes were. Both of them wasting time wanting things they couldn’t have.

Beast suddenly stood up, all eight feet of him stretching toward the ceiling. The book clattered to the floor.

“Be careful!” Beatrice scolded. Just because he had a million books in a huge palace did not mean he could throw them around.

Beast picked up the fallen tome. “My apologies." He strode toward the library doors. "I’ve just remembered.”

As he walked away, Beatrice knelt on her seat, looking over the back of her chair, and called out, “Remembered what?”

Beast turned back with a light in his eyes. “We have much to prepare before Christmas."

Christmas morning. Beatrice examined herself in her dressing room mirrors. She wore deep green—a full-skirted silk dress she’d never seen before in her massive wardrobe. With her red curls—delicately arranged by the servants—she looked like a Christmas doll. Like the presents she and her sisters got as children in their days of prosperity in the city.

She smiled at the invisible servants. “You’ve almost made me look pretty.”

She had never been the pretty one back home. She had too much of a mouth for that. Here, she always felt beautiful, without sisters to outshine her. But she would far rather be with them in their attic bedroom this morning. She could almost hear the bustle of their usual morning routine—rustling fabric, creaking floorboards.

Then she realized she could hear something, just outside her door.

She stepped toward the dressing room door. “Is someone in my sitting room?”

She reached for the doorknob, but an invisible hand wrapped around her wrist. Beatrice slapped it and yanked her hand free. “Stop that!”

Another hand grabbed her other wrist. Beatrice tried to step forward, but a strong grip on her shoulders held her back.

“What are you doing?” Beatrice shouted. “Let me go!”

She wriggled out from beneath the hands and managed to grab a hair brush from her vanity, which she smacked against the fingers holding her wrist. A minute later, the hands were back, holding her more securely than ever.

Beatrice struggled against them. “How many of you are in here? Is this a conspiracy? Have you all decided to rebel?” If the invisible servants had started a Christmas morning mutiny, she and Beast didn’t stand a chance.

While she looked for other means of escape, the door to the sitting room swung open, and the servants released her so suddenly that Beatrice fell to the floor. She rose, straightened her crumpled skirts, and scowled at the room, hoping her expression was directed toward at least a few of the servants.

“What was that?” she demanded.

The only response she received was a gentle nudge on the shoulder urging her toward the open door.

She had half a mind to stay right here, just to spite them. But she was curious.

She edged through the doorway and found Beast standing in her sitting room, resplendent in a suit of royal blue that dripped with gold and silver embroidery. He bowed to her. “Merry Christmas, Beatrice.”

“Merry...Christmas,” Beatrice said, bemused. “What are you doing in my sitting room?”

Beast gestured to the wall opposite the windows. “I was overseeing the delivery of your present.” A large, rectangular something was mounted on the wall and draped with a white sheet. In deference to the season, a gold bow had been placed in the center.

She hadn’t even thought of presents. It hadn’t occurred to her, trapped in a palace where Beast already owned everything.

“Did you wrap it yourself?” Beatrice teased, to hide her embarrassment. She stepped toward the wall and picked up one corner of the sheet. “May I?”

Beast’s eyes shone. “Whenever you like.”

Beatrice pulled off the sheet with a flourish. A heavy, carved wooden frame, as thick as her hand, as tall as Beast and nearly as wide, surrounded a painting. An interior Christmas scene, with a family gathered around a table in a room bedecked with ribbons and greenery. Yet something about the scenery looked familiar, something about the people tugged at her memory—

With a gasp, Beatrice saw that the family wasn’t just any family—it was hers. Every face was unmistakable. There was Viola’s dark hair, Rosalind’s freckles, Ophelia’s bright green eyes, Henry’s scar from where Edmund had pushed him out of a tree. And there, at the head of the table, his face mostly turned away, but unmistakable...

“Papa,” Beatrice breathed.

She ran a hand over the painting, the brushstrokes rough beneath her palm, as she touched every face in turn. “How did you do this?” she asked Beast. “You’ve met my father, but all the rest…”

“A gift from my godmother,” Beast said, “long ago. It shows us those who are far from us. It won’t show my family, but with a bit of rule-bending, I convinced it to portray yours.”

Yet another wonder of this place. Beatrice marveled at it. A masterwork of a painting. Every brushstroke precise. The colors vivid. The shadows and light as real as life. She felt as though she could walk inside the frame and be with them all.

She turned away, overwhelmed, with tears pricking her eyelids. “It’s lovely, Beast. I can’t thank you enough.”

A lump in her throat choked her. It was a lovely, thoughtful gift, and yet—it was almost worse to see them like that, memorialized in a single still image, like people long dead.

She was being ridiculous. She turned back to the painting.

Her jaw fell. Papa, who had been turned away, now faced directly toward her with a smile on his face.

“What?” Beatrice stepped toward the painting and scrutinized it. “I’m sure he was facing the other way before.”

“Was he?” Beast asked wryly. “This is a painting that must be watched closely.”

Beatrice examined the painting. It wasn’t just Papa. She was sure Viola’s arm was more outstretched than before. Henry’s eyes had opened wider.

A moment later, there were more changes. Papa’s mouth was open in a smile now. Viola held a pot of tea.

The image changed again, again, again, tiny movements every time, and soon it was changing so fast that Beatrice couldn’t see the changes. Everything in the picture moved in perfect fluid motion, as if the people inside were alive. She watched her family laugh and chatter as they shared a breakfast of tea and Christmas bread. There was no sound, no scent, but her memory filled in the gaps. She could hear the same old Christmas morning jests, hear the birds outside the window, smell the pine of the wreaths, feel the warmth and closeness of being with her family on Christmas morning.

Tears ran down Beatrice’s face, and she didn’t even try to stop them. “Thank you, Beast,” she said. She wiped her face in her silken sleeve—she had hundreds of dresses, but she couldn’t waste a moment of this miracle hunting down a handkerchief. “This is the Christmas I wanted.”

Beast bowed and backed away. “I shall leave you to enjoy it.”

Beatrice leapt toward him and seized his arm. “Don’t you dare!” Though she barely came up to his chest, she dragged him toward a sofa that had been turned to face the wall. “You are staying here. Sit.”

Beast, seeming lost and bewildered, meekly obeyed.

Beatrice spoke to any invisible servants that might be in the room. “Do we have any Christmas bread available? Something like what’s in the painting?”

A single knock on the wall. Yes.

“Bring some to us,” Beatrice says, “and a pot of tea. We’re sharing Christmas morning with my family.”

In moments, the food arrived, and she and Beast shared it in a picnic on the floor while she explained everything that was happening in the painting. Though she talked almost without stopping for breath, Beast listened to everything attentively, as if he was as hungry for company as he was for breakfast.

This was different, but it was good. A Christmas she could never have imagined, but one she would never have wanted to miss, here with her strange, hulking, melancholic, thoughtful Beast.

She had so much she wanted to say, to let Beast know what this meant to her, and no words to express it—she didn’t do well with sentiment, and some things were too deep for speech.

At last, on impulse, she threw her arms around Beast’s neck. “Thank you,” she said.

Beast, stunned, was frozen beneath her, but after a moment, he relaxed and returned the embrace.

Catching herself as she realized what this might look like to a beast who had proposed to her every day she'd lived here, she hurriedly pulled away and said, "I'm still not marrying you!"

For once, the refusal didn't leave Beast looking forlorn. He merely chuckled, his eyes sparkling. "I don't mind. Right now, this is more than enough."

She settled back to her seat, relieved he understood. It was. More than enough.

"Merry Christmas, Beast," she said.

He placed one of his hands over hers. "Merry Christmas, Beatrice."

#the bookshelf progresses #inklingschallenge #inklingschristmaschallenge #imagery: gift #fairy tale retellings #beauty and the beast #i tried very much to make this a comedy but i couldn't make it work so i settled for sentiment #i hope i managed to keep in some bits that read as humor #also please appreciate the effort i went through to finish this story with a migraine #for some reason these stories in particular take me much longer than i think they should #i know how things should happen but the exact order of details eludes me #this one was much worse than a day late #i had three substantial versions #one of which was nearly finished before i completely overhauled the whole thing #also the time travel story i talked about is still in the works #this was an early idea but then it faded in favor of the time travel one #then when i sat down for serious work on the time travel one beatrice came forward and decided she wanted her story told after all

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pokestar-rosa · 10 months

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Hi hi hi, everyone! Its me, the one and only Lucario Girl, or, as I'm known in my civilian identity, Stella Black! But that's supposed to be a secret so don't tell anyone, kay?

In all seriousness, hiya! The name's Roselia Florence Annie Bridgewood, but you can call me Rosa! I'm a professional actress, screenwriter, songwriter, costumer, and singer! I also direct sometimes! You may recognize me from such films as the Brycen-Man series (still made he gets top billing, he doesn't even appear in most of them, but I guess having the ex-gym leader at the top attracts a larger audience), Timegate Traveler, Everlasting Memories, and my personal favorite, Mystery Doors of the Magical Land! You may also recognize me from the time I saved the Unova region from a madman with stupid hair, but who cares about that!

Of course, an actress is nothing without her stage crew, so why don't I introduce you too my supporting cast!

Showstopper the Lucario: My very first ever Pokemon! He starred with me in the first Brycen-Man movie and every Brycen-Man movie since then! There's no bond closer than ours!

Plot Twist the Blaziken: He's called Plot Twist cause I wasn't expecting to run into a Torchic all the way in Unova. Glad I did, though, cause he's been a real asset.

The Heart the Flygon (or just Heart): The heart of the team (hence the name) Heart always knows how to pick us up when we're down.

Smoke the Zoroark: I was asked to take care of Smoke by Anthy and Connie when he was just a Zorua! Once my journey was over he decided to stick with me and get into acting! And those illusions come in handy for special effects too!

Herald the Serperior: Herald's more of a battling Pokemon than an acting Pokemon, but I love him all the same. I called him that cause he was the Herald of my Heroes Journey.

The Smart Guy: A bit of a late addition too the team, Smart Guy really came in clutch against Skyla. Her electric type attacks are no joke!

Hat the Mankey: So named because he stole my hat. Not much of an actor, but likes hanging out on set.

Levi the Leavanny: My partner in Costuming, I don't think I'd get things done nearly as fast if she wasn't around.

Anti-Roxie the Ekans: I named her that because I caught her as a counter too Roxie, eheh. Poison's not very effective against poison, you know. That didn't really pan out but she always preferred being a lap Pokemon anyways.

Big Guy the Gigalith: Named as such because he was super strong, even before he was big. If there was something in the way, he could smash it.

Invader the Elgyem: Maybe its a bit mean to name an Elgyem Invader. Especially since he inspired the Invaders series.

Ghost the Sableye: A mischievous little guy who loves too play pranks on set almost as much as he loves acting.

Sidekick the Flaffy: She was my sidekick, of course. Unfortunately, my proposal for "Lucario Girl's sidekick Flaffy Boy" got rejected.

Junior the Ariados: I don't know why I named this Ariados Junior. Something just came over me and I felt I had too.

Comic Relief the Snover: Okay, maybe this one's a bit mean too, but he's so silly.

Confidant the Scolipede: Obviously if I need to go to anyone for advice or to just talk, its Showstopper (or Nate) but Confidant is also a good option.

Deus ex Machina the Magnezone: My real Anti-Roxie, Deus came out of nowhere and saved me in that battle, hence the name (also cause its a machine). Still have no idea where it came from.

Heel the Spiritomb: Heel's not really evil, but they play the part well. If you need a villain, they're your swirling conglomeration of imprisoned and tortured souls.

Unexpected the Litwik: I named him that cause he surprised me.

Dawn the Empoleon: Another unexpected catch. Since the name Plot Twist was already taken, I named this Empoleon after a famous trainer from the Sinnoh region.

Sixth Ranger the Gallade: A Sixth Ranger is a character that joins the team late in the series run. Sixth over here fits that perfectly, being one of the last Pokemon to join my team.

I'm also friends with a whooooooole bunch of Legendaries but I don't, like, own them or anything. They're just my friends. Sometimes they help out on-set.

#pokemon irl #pkmn irl #irl pkmn #pokeblogging #introduction

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