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stirthewaters · 5 months

Text

Too Sharp to Touch pt.9

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Language

Summary: At a Halloween event for Jericho, Wednesday decides to put you to work.

Pairings: Wednesday x Reader

Too Sharp to Touch Masterlist

Wednesday had never thought in her whole life that she would ever have to wear the dreadful cat costume she had sported during the Poe Cup in the previous years, but now, somehow, she found herself in the exact same skintight suit, being fitted with a (newly) fixed pair of cat ears from her roommate, who was dressed in similar attire, though the blonde’s black outfit had also been sprinkled with glitter here and there, that of which Wednesday was almost positive she was getting hives from.

Although the goth had rather firmly insisted that she would not be wearing any sort of costume or special outfit for the event, somehow Enid had roped her into it, only managing to get her to agree by reluctantly giving her a plastic jug of fake blood. Of course she didn’t want to be any sort of feline; but a murderous feline? She would settle for. Even if the fake blood had a pathetically runny viscosity and was too bright for the perfectly horrifying shade of red that it was supposed to be.

According to Enid, Nevermore’s carving event was also created with the intention of being dressed in costume, which Wednesday found to be completely unnecessary when the purpose of the event itself wasn’t even directed towards such a thing. And unfortunately, since the raven had refused to wear anything Enid offered, (such as a ridiculous bird outfit complete with a monocle and fake feathers), the old costume was retrieved last minute.

“What are you doing?” Wednesday suddenly spoke, broken out of her thoughts when she felt the texture of something against her face as she instinctively pulled away, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Uhm, whiskers?” Enid held up the makeup brush in one hand and whatever fashion concotion used to create the illusion with the other. “Then we’ll be matching.”

“Absolutely not.” Wednesday shook her head firmly, folding her arms over her chest as she took a small step back. “My answer remains the same as the year previous and if I’m ever forced to wear this atrocious outfit in the future I can assure you that answer will be the same.”

The pout on the werewolf’s face was filled with disappointment, but nodded and put the items away, storing them in her desk on her side of the room before skipping back over. Her costume was just as ridiculous as it was last year; black outfit and ears, whiskers and a cat-like nose painted onto her face, as well as the aforementioned glitter sprinkled here and then. At least Enid could pull it off.

As Enid started to head for the door, Wednesday reached for her fleece hoodie, starting to pull it over her shoulders when the blonde spoke in a confused tone, “you’re covering up the costume?”

“More or less,” Wednesday nodded, feeling slightly more comfortable now that there was at least some sort of covering for the costume. “I agreed to wear this but the conditions of what to wear on top were never discussed. Now let’s go, we’ll be late.”

She followed Enid down the hall, populated with students in costume on their way to the event; Wednesday spotted more than one angel and demon, though most of the costumes were inaccurately portrayed in her opinion. The sky was already mostly dark, and the temperature was wonderfully chilly, accompanied by a small breeze that sent dead leaves flying across campus.

“You seem eager to get there on time,” Enid teased softly, glancing at Wednesday as they exited through the main entrance, heading onto the main path before them. “Is there any specific reason for that?”

Wednesday instantly shot the blonde a glare, though she felt a small hint of disgust in the back of her mind as she realized it wasn’t nearly as sharp as the ones she typically delivered to anyone else…or you for that matter. Wednesday didn’t like that at all. “I’d advise you inform me of what you’re implying before you lose the ability to do so.” She stepped slightly to the side for more berth and space between her and Enid, respectfully.

Enid, clearly realizing the empty threat, nodded and gave a small smile and a tilt of her head as she hummed and shrugged slightly. “Well, I dunno… I mean, Y/N’s going to be there, right? And you’re working with her on that whole ‘gunshot in the woods’ thing together so maybe you were just… anticipating getting there early.” Her eyes glanced over at the Addams once more. “Though usually you want to make a bad first impression - no offense of course.”

“None taken,” Wednesday didn’t look back at Enid as she continued to walk, focusing on the dimly lit path in front of her that wound through the thinning out trees, the lights of Jericho becoming visible. “If I’m going to be in Jericho then it is a rather popular spot to begin trying to find evidence. Y/N is merely a victim of circumstance.” She could almost feel the werewolf’s eyes on her, those of which she tried to ignore. “If you’re implying what I am suspecting than I would advise you to keep quiet for the time being.”

“Alright, alright.” Enid hummed softly, clearly not going to push as she walked beside the raven. “Are you at least going to stick around to carve any pumpkins or anything?” She was changing the topic. Good.

“I doubt that I’d find pleasure in carving trivial patterns into vegetables with strangers.” Wednesday gave a small sigh, rolling her eyes as she added, “most adolescents' knife skills are pathetic to watch. It’s as if they learned merely from watching one of those judgmental cooking shows. At least the sadism of the judges is admirable.”

As the two stepped into town, Wednesday took note of the amount of people around; usually at this time of night there weren’t many passerby, but it was obvious that the Jericho-hosted event was quite a popular festivity, much to her distaste. Why waste a perfectly dark and intimidating atmosphere on such a trivial holiday spent eating sugar and dressing in foolish wear? Clearly that townsfolk were just as immature as she had suspected.

The lampposts closer to the main area had been strung with jack-o-lantern lights, casting a disgustingly artificial glow over what would have been shadow, and it seemed as if the mayor couldn’t have resisted putting a faux hay bale or scarecrow at every other curb.

The main area had quite a few plastic tables with a few tablecloths spread over, with an army of pumpkins sat around the fountain to be picked and carved for anyone who wished. Wednesday noticed that the crowd mainly consisted of Nevermore students, rather than normies. How unfortunate that the chances of a fight breaking out were now lessened.

Wednesday was able to pick you out of the sea of costumes in an instant.

There you were, dressed in an oddly fitting werewolf costume, which, rather than other werewolf costumes that the Addams had seen, mostly consisting of a plastic mask and a plaid button up, was actually somewhat decent.

You had small smears of fake blood on your arms and face, that of which was far more realistic than the ridiculous bright artificial colored blood she sported at the moment; Wednesday would definitely have Thing swipe it later.

Your claws were out, as well, which she definitely didn’t see often, and unlike Enid’s, which were typically painted a plethora of painfully bright neons, were just a dark black, fitting the simple aesthetic that claws were supposed to convey.

The only odd thing about it was the fact that you didn’t carry them the way that werewolves typically did; you almost seemed as if you were unsure of how to carry them, making sure they weren’t in danger of ever accidentally touching anyone or getting stuck on things. In fact, your hands were shaking. Though you still were talking with everyone and conversing with a smile and laughs, most likely making those stupid jokes you always did.

And when you saw her the way she saw your eyes light up made Wednesday want to strangle you. You were doing something to her to make her feel that unpleasant prickling sensation.

Wednesday reluctantly followed Enid into the crowd, looking around with eyes that dared anyone to make a comment about her appearance; she always had her pocket knife on her if anyone wanted to make the slightest jab.

“I’m not going to lie, I didn’t expect to see you here,” you grinned, approaching her with that fast gait you always sported when you were excited. It made Wednesday realize how much of a werewolf you really were, even when you weren’t wolfed out. Though she still had yet to experience that. “Where in the hell did Enid drag that thing out of?”

“Weems kept the costumes in storage,” Enid beamed, glancing at Wednesday proudly. “I mean, come on, she looks pretty good, right?”

“I was hoping I’d look dreadful, actually,” she deadpanned with a roll of her eyes, watching your movements as you studied her own false blood.

“I mean yeah, it’s a good costume, but the fake blood…” you trailed off, covering your mouth to hide a smile. “It looks like water dyed with food coloring.”

“Finally,” Wednesday muttered sarcastically, feeling a tinge of satisfaction that at least someone agreed. “Whoever created it wanted to make a mocking of blood itself.”

“It was all the party store had left,” Enid said with a small pout, that of which made Wednesday sigh slightly. “I’m off to grab some of the skittles, it looks like they’ve got a whole bowl.”

“Save me some,” you called back as the costumed blonde disappeared into the crowd, at the exact same time that Wednesday muttered, “you’ll get yourself sick.”

Now that the two of you were alone, the Addams reached down, taking one of your hand and inspecting it, studying your claws as your eyes widened in surprise. “Wednesday, what are you-“

“Your hands are shaking,” she observed after a second, releasing you and placing her own hand back into the pocket of her jacket. “I wish to know why. Either you’re on a sugar high or I’d draw the assumption that you’re anxious.” Was she even right? She didn’t understand half of how body language connected to emotions. She hated the feeling of vulnerability that came with the territory.

“Sugar high, probably,” you responded after a moment, averting eye contact to flex your hand, eyes focused on the sharp claws at your fingertips. “Either that or I’m not used to having these bad boys out. They're kind of awkward to carry when I’m not wolfed out or whatever.” You glanced back up at her, folding your arms behind your back as you changed the topic. “I take it you’re not stoked to carve any pumpkins?”

Wednesday took a moment, eyes narrowing in slight puzzled confusion, pausing before raising an eyebrow. “‘Stoked’?”

“Oh, that’s just a dumb word for excited or whatever,” you shrugged slightly, a hint of red appearing over the skin of your nose. “Whatever. I’m just confused why you’d be here other than to humor Enid.”

“I’d rather try and collect witness evidence from anyone here who could’ve heard it other than you and Thing,” Wednesday shook her head, glancing over at the swarm of adolescents enjoying themselves. “Gunshots are not silent, to my knowledge.”

“And how are you going to do that?” You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in slight confusion.

“I’m not. You are.” Wednesday gestured with her head to the crowd, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’m sure with that sickeningly charming personality of yours you’ll be able to draw some info out of someone.”

“You’re calling me charming?”

The shit-eating grin on your face made Wednesday roll her eyes again, responding with gritted irritation. “Don’t push it, Y/N. Get. The job. Done.”

“And my reward when I do?” Oh, you were really testing your luck now. Wednesday could feel herself staring literal daggers at you. “Not being strangled.”

The disappointment in your eyes made her slightly regret her words for some reason, and the Addams gave another roll of her eyes, sighing with irration. “If you’re lucky, sone candy. Whatever will keep that werewolf mind of yours motivated. Satisfied?”

Your nod of excitement was almost comical, and Wednesday watched with a raised eyebrow as you took off into the crowd, the faux wolf tail clipped to your cargo pants swaying to and fro.

The night wore on, people beginning to grow more excited as the party ramped up. It was more than once that Wednesday found herself grimacing in disgust at the sight of more than one couple engaging in intimate acts every now and then. The amount of indecency from youth was unsurprising.

You, on the other hand, did as told. She watched you like a hawk as you had multiple discussions with both students and normies, seemingly lighthearted and joking. You were focused for once. Could it have been at the bribe she’d offered? That had to be the answer.

Speaking of, the Addams abruptly realized that she was more or less obliged to follow through on her promise of candy, and with a roll of her eyes, stepped into the mess of elbows and sweaty costumed teens to retrieve some. Thankfully, most instinctively pulled away from the feeling of her cold body brushing against theirs, but even so Wednesday felt slightly choked by the amount of people.

Stopping by the plastic table that held three large bowls of confections, she sighed and reached over to take a few; it didn’t matter exactly what she gave you since you were likely to be happy at whatever you received. Wednesday retrieved a couple of whatever ‘snickers’ were, as well as a couple more small bite sized candies before placing them in her jacket pocket, turning to leave when she spotted a flash of pink in someone’s hand.

There, in a tall boy dressed as a cowboy’s hand, was a package of bright pink packaging, which Wednesday vaguely recognized as your favorite candy. She’d seen you eating it once or twice in the dining hall. A quick glance at the candy bowl proved that the one the cowboy had retrieved was either the last or only one left.

Without a second thought the Addams reached out and tore it from his hand, shoving it into her pocket. When he turned to protest, she glared witheringly at him, speaking coldly, “consider touching me and I’ll end your bloodline.”

In her mind, her reasoning for going out of her way to do so was to satisfy her inner sadist and deprive the boy of his sugary desires. That was definitely the reason.

When most of the pumpkins around the fountain were gone and the grass was littered with plastic cups, candy wrappers, and pumpkin guts, you returned, looking slightly less energetic but prideful.

“As promised, I got results.” You pulled up the sleeve of your jacket, showing multiple paragraphs written in pen on your arm, making Wednesday raise an eyebrow.

“And you chose your arm as a canvas. How creative,” her tone was sarcastic as she sighed, stepping closer to briefly scan over the scribbles, taking it all in to memory as she ignored your expectant eyes on her. “You received testimony from only two witnesses?”

“Mostly everyone here is drunk,” you sighed, nose scrunching in slight distaste as Wednesday glanced up at you, questioning. “And you…don’t. Well, either way it’s better than nothing.”

She dug into her pocket, pulling out the handful of candies. “As promised,” she sighed, dumping them into your waiting hands.

The fact that your eyes lit up the second she saw the candy she had taken made everything worth it.

———

pt.10 here!

Taglist

@idkjustliving2 @alexkolax

#wednesday addams #wednesday series #wednesday x reader #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #jenna ortega #wednsday addams #tstt #werewolf #werewolf x wednesday #werewolf x reader

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elioslover · 6 months

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Little Angel, Only Freak? - Grapejuice.

🎃 Halloween Flashbacks 🎃

This can be read as a stand-alone piece! 👻 I've really been wanting to include some flashback moments from Harry and Klutz's past, so I thought Halloween would be the perfect place to start!

Premise: Harry has been pining over Y/n - his best friends slightly older sister - for as long as he can remember.

GRAPEJUICE MASTERPOST / Other Writing

NB! Y/n's (Klutz) brother's name is Jack. In Grapejuice it's mentioned that Harry may have wrote some songs about Klutz. These events were inspired specifically by two of his masterpieces lmao, so lemme know if you notice any references hehe. - Em. xo

Warnings: Drinking/smoking (this oneshot contains quite a bit due to the fact that they are attending a lot of Halloween parties). Age-gap (2yrs). Self-insert she/her.

Word count: 5.4k

🍷 2011 🍷

Sitting with your legs criss-crossed, on the kitchen counter which is perhaps the highest off of the ground you are most comfortable with. Your firm belief in keeping your feet on the soil, neither under deep waters nor up in the air.

That aside, you are eating a toastie, courtesy of your own cooking- rather surprised that not only did you manage to get ready on time, but actually finished with plenty to spare.

Indulging in your meal, the sound of Travis Scott accompanying your chewing, Harry's sudden appearance in the kitchen is startling, but nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, there have been plenty of worse and compromising interactions in the past.

“Aren’t you too old to be trick-or-treating?” You mumble through your food-filled mouth, eyeing him from top to bottom, shamefully admiring his choice of costume. Perhaps you were a sucker for a sexy pirate- though a large part of you believes the 'sexy' part was unintentional.

Harry only smiles and meanders further into the kitchen, invading the fridge for god knows what before giving up, strolling over to you, invading your space in an instant and with audacity you have never witnessed prior, he snatches the half-devoured triangle of a toastie and takes a hearty bite before speaking through muffled chews,

“Age is but a construct.”

“I guess I agree.” You shrug, thoughts travelling to the dangerously explicit fantasies you experienced at the mere existence of Tom Hard, your brain concocting a dreamland in which a 15-year age gap would be graciously welcomed.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Harry archives the moment. An entirely separate dreamland surrounds him and yourself. But, you still seem so far away, Harry is aching to extend the conversation, “Where are you off to, a Tarantino-themed party?”

“That my dear, is none of your business.”

“Well for what it’s worth,” he informs both sweetly and sultry, “you make a beautiful *Viper.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Styles.” You open the gates and let your guard down, needing him to know you notice him- see him, and if vulnerability is the way to make that clear, god willing, something inside you wishes to share it.

Harry is stunned- your words are one thing, your tone is another. He wants, no, he needs to hear your softness, again and again. Then there is an invasive double honk and it can only belong to the red Mazda parked in the driveway, stark headlights shining through the kitchen curtains.

You hop off the counter without a care in the world, straighten out your costume, and check your makeup in the reflection of the microwave before strolling straight past Harry and into the entrance hall, grabbing your matching purse. You raise your voice to address both your brother and the sexy pouting pirate stunned to silence,

“That’s my ride." Certain they've both heard, you open the front door and as an afterthought, call over your shoulder, "Save me a Mars bar!”

👻

The boys are in line for the entrance to a club that Jack stated would be "popping", but there is a clear age limit and Harry's anxiety is already reaching its limit. He turns to Darth Vader- ignoring how ridiculous his friend is- and Harry cautiously ponders aloud,

“Are you sure we’re even gonna get in?”

“Trust me.” Jack sternly enforces.

“What is this hold you have over me?” Harry concedes.

By what could either be deemed a miracle or exceptional finesse, it's not long before the boys have their left wrists stamped with a small ink jack-o-lantern, and are entering the club.

“See! Am I ever wrong?” Jack projects against the booming bass, but Harry certainly hears him, more focused on the dissipating nerves being replaced with confidence.

“Drinks!” Jack doesn't allow a retort, making his way to the bar with the assurance that Harry is following close behind. Harry was, and after a few other patrons are tended to, the boys order their choices and cheer a duet of tequilas in celebration of their success.

The tequila is still travelling down Harry's throat when a voice, so sweet and so familiar, almost causes him to choke, his eyes opening, neck dropping to look at the person who had exclaimed "Oi!". Unsurprisingly, you are standing there, arms on your hips, a look of disappointment painted across your face,

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to be here either.” Jack shrugs.

“I thought you were trick-or-treating, Jack." You chide.

“Oh, please, we’re seventeen. You knew that was a cover.” His eye-rolls with a jovial smirk.

“Still. I thought at least a house party.”

“Which is exactly where you said you would be.”

“Shut up.” Your last line of defence.

“C’mon, Y/n. Go have fun, it’ll be like we’re not even here.”

With a dissatisfied sigh, you grab your drink from the bar counter and gather within the group of girls all dressed with glamorous uniqueness, disappearing into the mass of dancers, praying that Jack’s statement would prove correct.

But, as expected, this promise was broken within the first hour after the desperate need for a Marlboro was lulling in your lungs, and for some useless and godforsaken reason, smoking is banned from the bar and dancefloor- bar vaping- however, due to the lack of an outside area, the designated smoking zone was the hallway.

After a trip to the bathroom- which had vanity counters, ladies waiting near the cashmere wash towels to unnecessarily aid in drying your hands; each bathroom is garnished with gold framing and every stall comes with a little glass table attached to the wall; perfect for cutting lines of coke- you decided it was time to settle down for a good smoke, spotting an empty, luxurious maroon and velvet two-seater sofa.

Your focus is on the ridiculous custom silver bear lighter you bought second-hand, your head bowed, smoke balanced between your lips, so it comes as a great surprise when you glance up and Harry is standing before you. By the time your cigarette sets alight, he is settled next to you on the lounger,

“Fancy seeing you here.” He teases lazily.

“You lost Jack?” You shift your body to better see him, simultaneously handing him your smoke.

“Always do.” He softly chuckles, knuckles brushing your fingertips in exchange, and he takes a good drag, hoping it will miraculously cure the anxiety that seemed to return the moment he found himself alone.

“That guy’s a menace.”

"This is the strangest hallway I've ever seen." He comments, glancing around the room of scattered stoners and straight smokers. Then he remembers the house he visited less than three hours ago, "And that's saying something."

"Our hallway is not that bad." You lamely defend- this conversation has been ongoing since youth.

"Can't believe we're sitting on a chez lounge." Harry marvels, hand stroking at the smooth material.

"This place truly is something." You agree, proceeding to ponder the answer to a premonition she needs confirmation for, “What are you doing over here?”

“Just needed a breather.” He admits. “You?”

“Guess I’m doing the same.” You consider.

“What’s the matter, klutz?” He reads your mood like a medium- some sort of magician.

“Boys are shitty.” You allow him the tip of the ice burg- it has been bugging you, perhaps not as much as the other things bothering and plaguing you.

“We are.” He agrees lightly, knowing it would be detrimental to pry.

“You aren’t. most of the time, anyway.”

“I thought I was the most annoying person you know.”

“You are. Maybe ever.” You dramatise your distaste, “But you are by no means shitty.”

For a reason Harry had always known, yet never questioned, he found your presence as relaxing as falling asleep cradled by a fluffy cloud. He briefly wonders if you feel the same, but knows better than to embrace hope. Nevertheless, he says what he can guarantee will suit your interesting demeanour,

“I’m sorry about… whatever you’re going through.”

“Thanks, Harry.” You smile earnestly as the pair of you proceed to pass the cigarette back and forth, comfortable in the presence of taking a cool-down.

But, with your vulnerability out in the open, it becomes mandatory to verify the reason he is currently sitting beside you,

“Why aren’t you down there?”

Harry knew it was coming, thought about what to say, and came up with a few reasonable excuses but as soon as the question leaves your quirked and lush lips, the truth comes pouring out and he cannot do anything but witness his honesty,

“I feel out of my element.”

“That’s all in your head.” You try to reassure him, knowing it isn’t that simple, yet hoping he might allow you the chance to prove it, even for just a moment.

“Oh, is that right?” He smirks.

You are standing before he can blink twice, singing your cigarette in the ashtray and reaching your arm out for him to join you,

“C’mon, I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t protest- he doesn’t even hesitate as he wraps his hand in your own, raising from the chair and allowing you to drag him wherever you please.

This results in descending stairs, weaving through a crowd before finally reaching the destination; the bar. He shouldn’t be surprised, but the pleasure and subconscious pride he wore as you tugged him about, moving closer, sometimes a few steps apart, but never letting go of his hand- even if only one finger was hooked to his own.

The bartender arrives with such haste that Harry is almost certain it has something to do with your beauty- it does- but mere moments later he finds out that you are in fact a regular visitor- and a loved one, at that.

Harry is so enamoured and floored with such an overload of new information about you that he hardly registers when you tilt over the counter and order four tequilas.

And when the tequila arrives, there are five, offered as, ‘on the house’. Your reaction is mischievous and Harry feels exhilarated at the promise of your mission to make his night memorable.

“Bottoms up.” You command, double-parking and encouraging Harry to wrap both of his shot glasses in each palm. He does as follows, giving you awkward cheers before copying your skill and tossing back the tequila one after the other. You then guide Harry to drop both glasses on the table and immediately grab the lonesome shot glass, still filled to the brim.

You go in for half a sip, savouring the sharp spirits slipping down your throat but leaving half the glass full. Handing it over to Harry he finishes the drink and turns to you in anticipation for further instructions. Your shoulders can’t resist a consequential shudder, and then you clap your hands together and cheekily beam up at him,

“Now, we dance.”

“I can’t dance.” His pitch is one of panic and protest.

“Neither can I.” You answer proudly, wrapping his hand in your own and leading him onto the dancefloor.

🍷 2016 🍷

Your boyfriend has caused yet another scene, taking it personally when some poor guy dressed as a zombie accidentally stepped on his foot.

Before he had the chance to toss more furniture, you plan an escape and make a beeline for the kitchen- somewhere likely to be devoid of party-goers. But when you round the corner, the sight of Harry, dressed in a white and red striped shirt, hair quaffed beneath a goofy matching beanie, and eyes framed by large, black round glasses. He's sitting on the counter, his light jean-clad legs dangling, shoes knocking against the bottom cabinets.

He seems too calm for such a festive evening, especially when he is as notorious as Jack when it comes to turning into a playful nuisance- affectionate, chatty, and likely to end up attempting to dance.

You walk straight over, only coming to a halt when your sternum presses into his knees, and beneath those gaudy glasses, you don't miss the way his deep green eyes swell and his lashes bash beautifully with bafflement.

"Ah, here's Waldo." You beam up at him.

"Y'got me." He lightly shrugged, a sneaky smile painting his cheeks.

"What do I win?"

Eyes widening with an accompanying Chesire cat smile, your tone tainted with taunting cheeriness. But, nonsensically you lean in closer, bare abdomen grazing his denim.

Whether intentional or not, Harry is set alight, his burning knees spreading along his stomach, trailing up his chest, simmering his heart and throat, coals burning at his cheeks and brain. He is so stoned on placebo, that his mouth is unable to project his profession,

"Anything you want."

You are experiencing first-degree burns, bathing yourself in diversion,

"Are these your real glasses?" You lean your face forward, lining up with his own, your hands gently clasping the black frames and examining the determined false lenses. "Guess not."

There are less than zero reasons for your bodies to remain so stuck, relaxed in the sanctuary of physical contact, but neither of you makes an attempt to move, unaddressed and absolutely mad. You deem it time to turn things around,

"Avoiding the party?"

"A little." He shrugs.

"Bad company?"

"The worst." He tilts his chin to the ceiling before returning his gaze to your own, "Though I can't imagine I'm much better."

"Anything is better than the mess going on outside." You meet his pondersome eyes with a competitive roll of your own.

Now Harry understands the crash he had heard through the kitchen window. Your expressions of annoyance and disappointment emit all of the information he needs to know,

"Dickie acting up again?"

"You know that's not his name."

"It should be."

Harry has never shied away from expressing his distaste for your boyfriend- simply because you were dating him. Harry was hardly around, and when he was, you were almost guaranteed to be absent due to plans with Ricky.

With a sudden bough of frustration, your hands press into Harry's upper thighs to properly balance yourself. he does everything- and more- to avoid physically reacting to your unusual closeness. You breathe out and it matches the mournful furrow of your brow,

"He's just... why does he have to be so aggressive?"

"Yeah, that table certainly didn't deserve that." Harry leans in, looking down at you with a worrisome but sensitive demeanour. And then he leaps and lightly wraps his hand around your hip.

His eyes are studying your soft face, his heart focused on your sweet features and the feeling of your skin separated by his clothes, but his head is still stuck on the confusion currently holding you captive. He can't help by prying,

"He's not... aggressive with you, right?"

"Not yet." The words trail off of your tongue. And then you toss everything aside, pressing your fingers into his thigh "I don't wanna talk about it right now."

Harry doesn't know how to react, sudden shocks of arousal emulating at the discomfort of your digging nails, the desperate desire to destroy the distance between your lips, loop his arm around your neck, softly cup your cheek and express how special you should be treated- with such certainty that you never forget,

"I like your costume. Might be your best so far."

It definitely is, you are rather impressed with how well your Other Mother costume turned out. Though, your already tragic bank account has taken a traumatic bashing,

"I spent way too much money on it."

"How much?" His grin is mischievous.

"Too much."

"Now I have to know." He pleads, but know you will never utter the shame you suffer. He won't let you off the hook so easy, though, "Just to rub it in, I'll have you know, I only spent three pounds."

You huff, leaning further into his touch, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on your flesh. He has to tilt to see you fully, and you aid him craning your neck to meet him in the middle, dismissing the deemed unnecessary distance,

"Well, you've done a terrible job at making it hard to find you."

"Maybe I wanted you to find me." He shrugs with suave.

"That was ambitious."

"It worked, yeah?" He is seeping with playful pride, though he cannot prevent his need to compliment you- perhaps the only way to get his attraction across was through words, true words at that, "You really do look beautiful."

"Not just sexy?"

"Sexy as fuck." He groans, fingers pressing into the plush fleshyness of your waist, "But not just sexy."

"Filthy." You scold seductively.

And then you seem to find yourself sinking further into his touch, trying with everything in you to get nearer- his neck so biteable, collarbone begging for loving bruises. Harry is on the same page, body pressing into your own, his palm trailing up and settling on your lower back.

You think he might kiss you. You think you are out of your mind... But, you think you're going to let him. The only thing to pause your seemingly-senseless thoughts is the defensive, stern, and frankly, threatening boom of your boyfriend,

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing with my girl?"

Like velcro being violently ripped apart, you have never moved with such haste in all of your current existence to date. Harry is now at least three feet away from you, and your boyfriend is berzerkly striding towards him. Harry calmly and rationally raises his palms in defence,

"Nothing, mate."

"Ricky-" You edge closer.

But, your boyfriend has already aimed his fist at Harry's face, and instead of reacting with returned aggression, he interjects,

"Mate, chill out." Harry reasons with a casual shrug, "She's like a sister to me."

An invasive feeling of disappointment pangs at your heart at the sound of sister, and to this day you will not analyse why. It was something you were guaranteed to repeat in the future.

"Am I supposed to believe that?" Ricky scoffs but his arm drops to his side nevertheless.

Harry hops off of the counter with ease, stepping past your boyfriend with effortless confidence. He glances over at you for a mere instance- not long enough for you to comprehend the event that just unfolded.

He reaches over to the nearest countertop and grabs his solo-cup and before turning his back completely, he addresses Ricky with finality,

"Believe what you want, Batman."

🍷 2018 🍷

Harry knocks for a third time before Jack finally answers the door- and when he does, dressed Pennywise- a red balloon tied to his wrist- Harry instantly regrets his entire life, attempting to prepare for a chaotic Halloween party. Whenever Jack finds himself in an extravagant, far-too-detailed costume, two things are certain; there will be a magically, monstrous punch bowl, and Jack will be dancing on any piece of furniture that catches his eye.

“So, this was your last-minute decision?” Harry works hard to keep the disturbed feelings from projecting across his features.

“It was this or Heisenburg, okay?” Jack sighs, audatiously comparing his- what can only be described as a slutty Pennywise to simply purchasing a hazmat.

“How much time did you spend on this?” Harry finds his amusement increasing.

“Too long.” Jack admits with distaste. But all in all, This is the best of his costumes to date, and Harry certainly agrees.

“I’m sure the ladies will love it.” He commends, and Jack nods avidly, his face mimicking that of confidence.

Harry ponders halfheartedly as they enter the home Harry knows so well- the home he spent at least a quarter of his 28 years. It's only as he reaches the living room, packed with both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Many of them seem older than he, and Harry can only assume these are friends of Jack’s college, and your work colleagues.

A pang of panic threatens to become a full-blown wave of disappointment and regret. Missing out on the life he could have had.

Before he can be swept away by his newfound unfamiliarity, Jack has led them to the makeshift bar- a dining table decorated with spooky decorations, all surrounding the notorious monster of the eve- the Halloween punch. Harry doesn’t protest- by this point he deems it necessary.

Lightly tapping their cups together in cheers. Jack takes a hearty sip before his brows suddenly raise in realization,

“Huh. That’s funny.” Jack finally takes a moment to acknowledge his best friend, emulating the Devil himself.

“Hm?” Harry asks halfheartedly, eyes scanning the room for something and he doesn’t even know what.

“I just noticed your costume.”

Harry’s gaze snaps back to Jack, giving him a puzzled look, masking a sudden bough of insecurity simmering beneath the surface,

“I look funny?”

“No, Y/n told me she was gonna be an Angel. Coincidence, huh?” Jack shrugs.

“Is she here?” Harry tries to hide the sudden panic.

“Not yet. You know she’s gonna lose her mind over it.” Jack grins, always bemused by the so-called banter between his sister and best friend.

Harry’s panic is substituted by an odd sense of relief- he now knows what- or who- he had been searching for. With a bough of mischievous confidence, he mimics his best friend's grin and informs,

“Just what I wanted to hear.”

👻

Upon the news of his holy crush’s imminent arrival, Harry finishes his first punch cup and then heads towards the ‘bar’ to pour another.

Pleasantly, someone is already attending to the punch- an old teammate from his high school football team has the same intentions, finishing up on filling his cup before recognizing Harry and enthusiastically initiating a catch-up. One that proves helpful, replacing his thoughts of you with good conversation and in turn, allows him to react.

It’s unclear how long this chat persisted as the boys moved from the make-shift bar to a spot on the porch- already scattered with smokers and an extremely tense game of beer-pong.

Eventually, the punch has caught up with him and Harry has to excuse himself in favour of the bathroom. This should be an easy enough task, but this monstrous punch has proved poisonous as it lags his movements and encourages him to take a long, good look at himself in the cobweb-framed mirror.

Impressed with his costume, and impressed with how calm and cheery he felt. Things don’t seem so bad- the intrusive thoughts were offering silence for the sake of letting him have a good time.

His best friend’s home has always had the oddest of hallways. A complicated combination of narrow to wide, with unnecessary corners and nooks. These proved sacred during the times of childhood, the perfect place to out-smart the person trying to yell, ‘Tag, you’re it!’ Now, this hallway is treacherous and Harry longs to find himself back in the living room, especially with the amount of party-goers crowding the corridor.

Looking back, Harry wonders if he would have even seen you wedged between a pair of what seems to be Cersei and Jaime Lannister. It would be hard not to, with the way the shimmering satin dress and the sparkling halo create a ring of glory around you.

But you certainly see him, meandering down the hallway dressed in a costume to match your own. Your first feeling should be annoyance, but unfortunately, your thoughts are redirected to just how good he looks.

The duo you were humouring are a thing of the past as you mutter an “excuse me”- gaze and mind already set on intercepting Satan himself.

He’s leaning against the wall- being extra careful to not knock over any picture frames. His head is bowed, contemplating his next move and it suddenly and forcefully occurs to him that his original plan to find you was diverted by a pointless side-quest.

As if the thin veil of Halloween was thoughtful enough to grant him instant gratification, a set of white heels, laced to the upper calf is walking his way. He lets his eyes trail the length of soft thighs up to the seams of lacy trim, savouring each fleshy, smooth thigh before finally addressing the owner's face.

When his eyes are met with your own, glittering with each blink, Harry’s widen in surprise, jaw threatening to slack as you stop before him. Giving him a good glance before mimicking his stance and balancing yourself against the wall.

“Well, well, well.” Your tone is both amused and annoyed.

A sudden rush of ease and euphoria washes over him at the coolness of your mood- though, that was subject to change rather quickly in the presence of Harry.

On a whim you attribute to both a poisonous punch and the devil standing before you, Harry is taken off guard by the sudden contact of your palm on his chest, even more, surprised as you push and guide him into the nearest alcove.

But that was as far as your thoughts had progressed, what was the plan now? This is a result of impulsivity, and when you concede and don’t go on to say anything further, Harry takes the opportunity to back you into the corner, arms balancing loosely on the wall near your face.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” His smile is cheesy.

“I’m sure you’re enjoying this.” Your eyes roll, arms crossing your chest in distaste.

Harry tilts down ever so slightly, aligning his lips with the shell of your ear,

“Loving it.”

“And I’m supposed to believe this is just a coincidence?”

“Believe what you want, Angel.”

He returns to his previous position, aching to get a better look at your face, hoping that the blush pink scattered across your cheeks is a product of not makeup, but himself. You cannot admit that it’s a combination of both- not even to yourself- instead opting for a classic eye-roll and continuing to do what you do best,

“I see you chose to go costume-less this year.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“You’re the Devil.” You try, “Truly.”

By now, your hands have dropped to your sides, securing distance but still unexplainably allowing Harry the chance to wander closer if he wishes. He does, but only enough for your chests to brush, his head bowed to gaze your way, one of his hands reaching out to fiddle with the accessory adorning your head,

“Why, because I make you want to ditch that pretty little halo?”

“You’re insane.” You chide, palm raising to his abdomen in protest.

“And you want me.” He articulates with certainty.

“Correction, you’re psychotic.”

But you like the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath your hold, the musky and fruity aroma invading your senses. The curve where his shoulder and neck meet is aligned with your chin, and for a split second, you ponder the impulse to get closer, latch your lips to his skin and sink your teeth in.

Harry likes having you so near, he can smell the Chanel and cocoa butter seeping from your skin, the crown of your head smells of something fruity and fresh. And when your hand absentmindedly trails further along his stomach, settling on his shoulder, Harry almost stops breathing when his impulses get the best of him, wrapping his free arm around your waist, and when you don’t protest and your free arm goes to rest along his shoulder, he thinks he might have a chance,

“Are you sure, pretty Angel? Your body seems to think otherwise.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

“You’re more than welcome.” he smirks, loving the way your eyes simmer with conflict, “…To shut me up, that is.”

You decide that fame has done a lot to him, not just the typical singing, stadiums and superstardom, so why the hell is he talking like a… man? Like he knows how to seduce a woman, and why the fuck does that make your stomach churn with curiosity.

But, you remind yourself that age equals experience and that makes you the superior. Besides, from the way he’s currently behaving, you have an inkling that his ego has likely inflated.

This could be fun. Two could play at this game, and no matter the amount of fraternizing Harry may have committed, you were competitively and egotistically prepared to knock him down a peg.

Raising to the tip of your toes, hand tightening on his shoulder, nails softly scratching at his back, your other hand reaching to wrap around his neck, your thumb stroking the crook of his chin. Batting your eyelashes with a lick of the lips, you ensure he hears each and every word,

“Is that what you want, sweet boy?” You coo, and Harry stiffens in an instant, blinking rapidly as you push on, “Want me to take care of you?”

“You can do whatever you want.” He blurts out before the ‘ou’, fist flexing against the wall, his body aching to be tangled up with your own.

It's cute, and unnecessarily arousing, and as much as you know you shouldn’t, there’s an ache in your chest that chants for you to crumb him along for just a little longer,

“Pity. After all, this is just a costume.”

“Prove it.”

His eyes are eager, nose bumping along your forehead, and your hand comes to its finale as it holds his cheek in place, gently pulling his face nearer to your own. You pout, but the sly smirk prints itself at the corners of your lips nevertheless,

“A Devil certainly isn't deserving.”

“Prove it anyways.”

Harry thinks he’s about two sentences away from begging for something he didn’t know he needed so desperately. As much as it pains you to put a pin in this, the confusion of juxtaposition of attraction is threatening to make you light-headed.

“No.”

So, to Harry’s utter dismay, you release him from your hold and tactfully slip out between the space you once occupied. With one more sympathetic pat on his shoulder, you smile at him and make your way back down the hallway, feathered wings taunting him in your wake.

🍷 2019 🍷

Harry was lucky enough to have been in town for Halloween- he can't count how many holidays he missed over the last half-decade. He’s dressed as her favourite thing; a teddy bear- fuzzy ears and makeup to match. Your brother, Jack was hosting his famously chaotic annual Halloween celebration, and Harry was far too giddy at the guarantee of seeing you again. He can't count the missed holidays, but he can certainly count how many years it’s been since you last spoke- mar the quick birthday wishes, and periodic congratulations and praise.

But, after an hour or so, he is starting to doubt his certainty, gaze shamelessly studying the room, hoping he had merely missed your arrival. Two solo cups of warm beer later, Harry is itching to locate you- this is your tradition after all, and he was so sure that this time would end differently, that she would finally see him for the man he was becoming.

He definitely wouldn’t be asking Jack why you weren’t here- partially because he seems preoccupied with a makeshift gravity bong. Instead, Harry seeks out one of your oldest friends, Nova, who is dressed as a Harley Quinn, but before he can even reach the group in which she mingles, his boot trips on a rug and unable to help it, the contents of his cup comes spilling out, splashing and coating Nova’s front with the sticky substance. After apologising profusely- even if just to come off polite- Harry musters up the humility to ponder your lack of presence.

Disheartened and disappointed when she responds with, “She’s in Italy”, Harry is once again confused by Jack’s lack of mentioning the news. Though none of his business, the dichotomy of standing his ground and avoiding the question versus caving in and simply asking Jack has him in quite the frenzy.

The rest of the evening is a bore- Harry switches to ginger ale, and though he attempts to mingle, maintaining interest proves to be impossible, and for the first time, Harry makes the decision to head home early.

But, now, with a make-up-free face and his favourite jammies, he is tucked beneath the fluffiest sheets and your mere existence is pulling the sheets tighter, trapping him in a series of thoughts of yours truly, thinking about you.

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may-be-bea · 3 months

Text

Velvet x GN Reader Oneshot

Her Favorite Fan

You could feel the rhythm shake your body as you stare onto your idols. Velvet and Veneer!- Well, more specifically Velvet. You couldn't help but fall for her. Her style, personality, singing voice- it was all amazing!

Now you sit here sweating, jumping, and dancing in the pit of one of Velvet and Veneer's shows. This isn't your first concert, nor will it be your last. However, this is your first time this close to the stage - and man was it worth it.

The music slowed and then quickly started back up again, playing one of Velvet and Veneer's iconic songs, Watch me Work. You couldn't help but scream into the crowd as Velvet rose up to the stage again, but this time much closer to you.

"Never gets older no matter how much I'm told I'm amazing~--"

You starting humming the tune as your eyes followed Velvet closely.

Her golden top hugged her chest perfectly, her matching skirt fluttered over her legs seamlessly while she danced, her makeup flawlessly complimented her costume, her toned body looked so-....

'You gotta calm down' you think to yourself, pink dusting your cheeks at the thought of your idol. After a brief moment you focus back on Velvet only to notice she seemed to be...looking at you?

Her melodic singing and dancing continued, but she frequently glanced in your direction.

You look around, making sure you're seeing things correctly-. Is she actually looking at me?

Velvet glances in your direction again and faintly smiles.

'OKAY, SHE SMILED' you internally scream at yourself, face coated in a thick red blush. - You continue to catch Velvet staring at you during the remainder of the performance. After a short while you start to smile back anytime she looks at you, which almost immediately causes her to turn away. (Is she blushing?)

Once the concert ended, Velvet and Veneer did a small meet and greet to address some of their fans. You of course made your way over to see them. After a grueling wait in line, you got up to the front with Velvet and Veener.

"Hi! I just wanted to say how amazing your show was tonight!" You blurt out.

"Thanks, we always appreciate our fan's support!" Veneer says. "It's tough work, but we always know how to amaze a crowd."

After a brief chat with Veneer you focus your attention on Velvet. She's sitting with her head in her hands and she's smiling at you. You can feel a blush overtake your cheeks again as she watches you.

"Well, aren't you going to talk about how amazing I did?" Velvet says nonchalantly.

"Oh! Of-Of course- you literally always know how to steal the show. Your dancing tonight was perfect, and your voice was as angelic as ever. Not mention how amazing your outfit tonight was!" You stammer out.

Velvet listened to your praises with a smirk and let you continue to compliment her. A slight pink hue found its way to her cheeks as you continued to sing her praises.

After gushing for a solid minute, Velvet pulled you aside.

"C'mere for a sec."

You walked the short distance over to her side of the table. She signaled for you to bend over to listen to something, and so you did (Although cautiously)

"I know you saw me looking at you. I just couldn't keep my eyes off of you~"

Embarrassment and excitement took over your body as Velvet whispered confessions in your ear.

"Why don't we set something up? Just me and you... somewhere private. I want to get to know you better."

Suddenly she pulls out a crumbled up sheet of paper from the bra of her costume and shoves it into your hand.

"Call me, 'kay?"

Velvet winks and then immediately resets her demeanor to her usual egotistical attitude. She looks over at Veener and nods before welcoming over another fan. It was like the interaction never happened.

You manage to get back home safely before open up the peice of paper Velvet gave you. On it was a phone number scribbled in lipstick with a heart drawn next to it.

...'I'm gonna call her.'

Howdy hey bozos <3 this is my first ever *character x reader* work! I managed to write it pretty quickly but I still think I did okay. Anyways, enjoy the thought of Velvet <3333

#trolls #trolls 3 #velvet and veneer #velvet #velvet x reader #x reader #oneshot #gn reader #trolls velvet #trolls velvet x fem reader

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perenial · 9 months

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gene im so glad you said this cause I haven't seen anyone else comparing it to the book as source material for like character and tone but i am So sure that if terry was alive the season would not be like this but i fear good omens fans dont realise how big a factor the lack of terry's influence is?? or like they forget that good omens was never just neilman???

ok before i go any further: i rly don't want to detract from anyone's enjoyment of the season and everything im going to say comes from a place of love for a) the original novel (& season 1 to a certain extent bc it got me back into it lol) and b) tv as a medium so like peace and love on planet let people enjoy things etc etc

but

like u said, terry's influence on the book was enormous – what makes gomens gomens is the balance of his genuine warmth and precise understanding of humanity tempered with neilman's sardonic voice and general like.....savvy approach to storytelling? i guess u could call it? anyway what rly helps the book is that it took them years to write it, passing ideas back and forth and rewriting each other's work until their voices blended seamlessly and a well structured capital-s Story was created. when i praise the book for being self-contained i think a huge part of that comes from the circumstances in which it emerged: two authors with complementary styles writing in a v particular time period where they had both the space to play with their ideas and the constraints of the novel as a storytelling format from which to craft something extremely specific.

adaptations are a tricky business and a tv version of gomens produced literal decades after the book was always going to have some unique challenges, but i don't think that's a bad thing bc the challenges could prove to be creative opportunities to take both the established audience and those new to the story by surprise. my biggest hot take here is that i don't think translating a story into a different medium means it has to follow the original narrative exactly, bc each medium has its own ways of communicating information and these structures, rules and traditions in turn inform what that story is. what matters more than following a story beat-by-beat is capturing what that story is about at its core, what themes and messages and ideas it works through and how.

all this is to say i never expected tv gomens to be a perfect reproduction of the book and if it had it been, it probably would have been worse off for it. that being said, there are parts of the book – like u said, its tone and character – that needed to have some fidelity in order to pull it off, and for the most part s1 did that bc it was still working predominantly within the bounds of the novel & its core ideas. while i did have some issues w how neilman & amazon adapted some details and characterisations, i generally rly liked s1 – it reminded me of why i loved the book and it was just generally fun to watch.

s2 was. not that fun to watch

a few positives before i go ham w the critiques:

the hair & makeup + costumes were fantastic (although i feel like s1 was slightly better re: makeup?)

the sound design & score made some of the more awkward scenes bearable and thats no mean feat imo

david & michael gave incredible performances w what they were given – michael especially managed to salvage aziraphale enough that his complete 180 didnt feel completely tonally dissonant (more on this later)

the detail of the sets is NUTS and i genuinely want to see more of hell bc of how intricate and fun the props look

i actually like gabriel/beelzebub!! their getting together montage worked for me, although they could have spent sliiiightly more time establishing what it is they like abt each other so much + why gabriel wanted to stop armageddon 2.0 so suddenly

the opening scene, although not on par w the novel's & s1's, was visually gorgeous and thematically resonant (although neilman owes me royalties for ripping it off from this shitty fic i wrote back when raphael!crowley was all the rage lol)

now w THAT being said:

like i said yesterday, the pacing was fucking awful. flashbacks are hard to work w at the best of times and the way they were used in this season felt so needless, especially the 40s one in ep 4 that takes up like 90% of the episode. in both flashbacks + present day there were scenes that dragged for no real reason, dialogue that looped back around on itself to stretch out the runtime, and weirdly enough places where there should have been character & plot work where there just,, wasn't any?? for example, maggie & nina's night locked in the café – some parts of the dialogue in later episodes made out that they'd had some rly deep conversation abt how they feel about each other or even that they'd had an affair, but that isn't clear from those scenes in the café. i'm not saying we had to see that conversation in its entirety but that there needed to be more connective details – either in dialogue or direction – that gave that part of the story coherence.

(there were pacing issues w the editing too but i don't want to jump down the editor's throats on this one bc im more focused on writing & direction issues)

the second major problem that i mentioned in my tags yesterday is the protagonist shift, which is an issue that started in s1. aziraphale & crowley are side characters in book gomens – significant ones, yeah, but still somewhat peripheral to adam (& anathema who counts as a deuteragonist imo). this works incredibly well w who they are as characters: they're Just Some Guys who happen to be involved in this epic biblical-level bureaucratic nightmare and importantly, they don't want to be in the spotlight. the arrangement was created so that they could explore what it meant to be themselves away from the Big Narrative; literally any time they get involved in larger affairs is bc the plot is alive and caught them unionising on company time. the last fucking chapter is adam (& god) being like haha u guys are alright keep it sleezy and letting them go. like. hello. neil u let them go.

but then!! tv gomens s1 does something interesting at the end w the body swapping addition that i dont totally hate – it gives aziraphale & crowley the extra bit of character work that brings them slightly more adjacent to their book selves. see i kinda view tv a/c as the younger, less settled versions of book a/c; they're still caught up in the immediacy of being key players and haven't fully realised that earth is their home. i haven't watched s1 in a while but one scene i remember rly clearly is crowley throwing all those astronomy texts in the air and angsting abt when he was an angel; i remember it bc his anguish in that scene feels a lot newer and rawer than book crowley's feelings about falling. when tv a/c do their bodyswap, it gives them the chance to land a blow against heaven/hell in a way that solidifies their allegiance to earth in a way that more closely resembles what book a/c have been abt the entire time (still adjacent, though. not parallel).

the reason why this works is that it does one final pivot to orient aziraphale and crowley as almost-main characters in a manner that makes sense in relation to a) their book selves and b) the position the tv show has placed them in. a combination of factors made tv a/c feel a lot less mature than their book counterparts but at the end of s1 they're sort of facing the same direction the book ended in, albeit through their own flashy late 2010s means.

when s2 was announced i was.......apprehensive bc to me, that felt like a satisfactory ending. i get the impression that amazon saw how wildly successful the adaptation was and was like oh shit we could make way more money out of this and neilman, having all those undead darlings that he and terry killed in the process of whittling the book into a workable novel, jumped at the chance to resurrect all those half-realised ideas. but not only were those ideas probably discarded for a reason, they've either been laying in wait for years unworked or they're new inventions, which means they weren't molded in the way that the book had been. like i said before, book gomens underwent years of rewrites and creative collaboration, and i think that process was what made it so good; s2 didn't have that. even if some of terry's ideas made it into s2, his influence is still missing bc he and neilman weren't in dialogue the same way they were in the book (and in some ways s1 bc i know terry was involved in the process of adapting gomens to screen before his death).

i don't think it's a case of newer fans forgetting terry so much as it is the context of terry's involvement being so removed from the current circumstances that certain aspects & discourses (i.e. is the s2 finale queerbaiting (no), does binge watching change the viewership experience (yes), etc etc) about the show overshadow other discussions that would usually be taking place. and before anyone says it's a case of neilman forgetting terry, i definitely don't think it's that either bc thats. yknow. wildly disrespectful. but also there are larger systems and structures at play than one writer no matter how much beef i have w him and his decisions, bc ultimately he's just one guy (a powerful and wealthy guy, but just a guy) and there's a wider cultural shift happening rn towards rehashing old stories without understanding what made them successful in the first place, and that same culture just doesn't allow for much, if any, constructive discourse analysis

so yeah

#replies.txt #Anonymous #god this is so long and rambling i hope it makes sense lmaooo #i have further thoughts on the general fic-y feeling of the season but that wasnt rly anon's question so i'll save that for another time #good omens #good omens spoilers

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ninyard · 29 days

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Hey! Do you have specifics for your prompts? Do you want just one person or is a couple ok? If just one person could you do something with Seth? Maybe a what if he didn't die and got his shit together?

And if a couple Kevin and Seth getting along?

(I'm in my loving Seth era...)

Thank you for sharing your writing, you are awesome!

THANK YOU okay so here’s what I offer you: Seth survives and nobody believes him when he says he didn’t do it (but Kevin can’t live with himself if he doesn’t tell him he knows who did) TW: drugs, suicide mention, overdose

It was Halloween, and Seth was not stupid enough to think that the bar would be quiet. Wall to wall bodies in costumes, a fire hazard waiting to happen, he wasn’t even sure they would get in, but when the bouncer noticed him and Allison at the back of the line, he waved them up and let them go ahead. He was a decent guy like that. A larger man with a buzz cut, tattoos creeping up his neck, donning a pair of devil horns on his head for the night that was in it. He smiled at Seth when he entered the building.

It was his third drink in when he started to feel wrong. He chalked it up to too many sweaty people in one room, each ones body heat raising the temperature a few degrees. Only a minute after he noticed something felt wrong, did he really start to know that something was really wrong.

Allison had asked him if he was okay. He didn’t remember answering. One minute they were there, stood by a table they’d managed to squeeze their way over to, and the next he was sat on the cold and dusty sidewalk out the front, not enough cool air in the world enough to ease the growing nausea that grew from the pit in his stomach. “I feel like I’m coming up off a real fuckin’ bad pill.” At least, that’s what he thought he said, what he meant to say. He could barely hear his own voice, his neck not strong enough to hold up his head.

“Look at me, open your eyes.” Allison held his head in her hands. “Oh, your- what the fuck?” Seth wasn’t sure what she’d seen in his eyes, but her phone was in her hands, and then by her head, and then he woke up in the hospital two days later. For some reason he was surprised that Allison was still by his side, her hand wrapped so tightly around his, as if letting go would mean she would never hold it again. She didn’t look like she’d slept, or taken a break from crying, either, hair unkempt and out of her face, makeup non-existent. She was wearing his sweats with a hospital blanket across her lap, and she cried and kissed around the medical equipment when she finally got the courage to touch him. She was so gentle, like he would break; It felt like he would, more fragile than he’d been in a very, very long time.

Allison told him that he’d overdosed. His heart sank at that, disappointed in himself before he remembered that he hadn’t taken anything. Then he noticed the nurse sitting in the corner, who smiled his way. The psychiatric team came up not long after they were informed that he was awake. He was confused, but given his history, he wasn’t that surprised. He was surprised, however, when they told him what the concoction was that he’d overdosed on.

The blood test showed a toxic level of his anti-depressants, alongside traces of both heroin and painkillers that had been an opiate he favoured when he was actively using back in the day. He should’ve died. It was a miracle that somebody in the queue had naloxone in their bag, and they’d saved his life by administering it. He would never find out who they were, or why they’d helped him, but the consequences of surviving were much more painful that the death he would’ve never remembered anyway.

He wanted to die when Allison looked at him with tears in her eyes and whispered, “how could you do this to me?”, or when the psychiatry team asked him for the tenth time in an hour if he had plans of ending his life. He wanted to die when the nurses who had him on 24/7 suicide watch had to accompany him to the toilet, and when Dr. Dobson accompanied David to the hospital the day he was allowed to leave. They’d proposed an involuntary stay in a psych ward, but Betsy had managed to convince them to let him go.

Nobody wanted to hear it; somehow he’d overdosed on his own medication, and even when he counted out the pills and tried to prove that he hadn’t done it, nobody seemed to believe him. They only sent him this look of pity, as if a failed attempt was worse than a successful one, as if he was simply trying to cover for the fact it hadn’t worked. Allison tried her best to support him, but it was hard for her. She’d watched him seizing outside the bar, foaming at the mouth and choking on his own vomit. She’d sat in the ambulance as the paramedics resuscitated him the whole way to the hospital. Betsy told him she hadn’t left his side since he was admitted; and it was really difficult for her to watch him lying there with tubes and wires blocking her view. She’d broke down two days after they returned to campus, and begged him to just be honest, that there was no way he’d been coincidentally spiked with his own medication, one that had seizures at the top of the list of warnings. Even just doubling the dose of his meds had the potential to be fatal, and he knew that. He hadn’t been depressed for a long time. His meds worked, so much better than any of the others that he’d tried, and he wouldn’t have risked being taken off them by doing something so stupid for no reason at all. It felt as though he was being gaslit into believing he had in fact taken too many pills before leaving, but none of it made sense. He took his pills in the mornings. He had been clean from hard drugs for months. Even on the off-chance that he had taken a handful of the little circular pills, how did the heroin get there, the opiates he hadn’t touched in years?

He’d been curled up in a ball in the corner of the couch, alone in the dorm when a knock came at the door. It was no more than two weeks after the incident, and he’d just returned from a session with Betsy. He didn’t respond to the knock, but kept his eye on the door as it creaked open. The last person he expected to see peeking around it was Kevin, but there he was. He shut the door behind him and sat on the opposite side of the couch. If he tried to sit any further away, he would’ve fallen off.

“I’m not interested, man.” Seth glared at him. “Fuck your game, and fuck you if you’ve really just come in here to ask me to come back to practice.”

Kevin sighed and looked away. “That’s not why I’m here.” His hands were clasped together on his lap, thumb running over the opposite hands knuckles. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Seth snorted and threw his head back. “Yeah, right, asshole. You don’t give a shit.”

“Did you do it?” Kevin had paused for a second before blurting out the question. His eyes searched Seth’s for the truth, with his shoulders practically touching his ears and hands locked together as he stopped himself from fidgeting.

He laughed again, shifting positions so he was better facing him. His voice turned serious, and he pointed towards the door. “Leave my room.”

“I’ll believe whatever you say, I just have to know.”

“Oh, you have to, do you?” He said. He was angry, and after a draining session with Betsy, he couldn’t handle another person insinuating he was lying. “You don’t deserve a fucking thing. None of you do. Stop looking at me like that. Tell them all to stop fucking looking at me like that.”

“We’ve not friends, Seth, and I don’t give a shit about your history. But I know you didn’t do this.” Kevin considered his words. “Because I think that… If you didn’t do this to yourself, man, I think I know who did.”

Seth froze and sat up, far more alert than he’d been in days. “How dare you, you pretentious piece of shit? How fuckin’ dare you? Are you going to give a status report back to your little toddler squad, is that what this is? Finally your fucking…” He mimicked dangling something in front of his face. “Ammo? Something you have over me?”

“I get it.” Kevin didn’t look back to him. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me.”

“I haven’t trusted your crippled ass since the day we met.” Seth leaned forward. “But humour me, then. Who somehow knows exactly what meds my crazy ass is on, and tried to murder me in a packed bar, busiest night of the week? Because your explanation is bound to be better than mine.”

“I owe it to you to let you know.” Kevin lowered his voice. “But I can’t explain it. I just have to tell you that I think it was Riko.”

“Fuck off, now, or I’ll start screaming.” Seth was frustrated, feeling like the butt of a joke, feeling like Kevin was just trying to stab another dart into a board that was already full. “This is not a fucking joke. Al has to give me my pills because nobody trusts me with them right now. The shrink calls me twice a day. Everyone is so fuckin’ disappointed in me, man, I could’ve died, and you’re telling me your little bestie over there did it? You’re a coward, Kevin. You’re a fucking liar and a fucking coward.”

Kevin held up his scarred hand as if that was explanatation enough. “Neil humiliated him on live TV. He wouldn’t think twice about killing someone to get back at him. You’re an easy target.”

In all the chaos that had ensued, he’d forgotten about what Neil had said on Kathy’s show. None of it made sense to him, why he would be an easy target out of all of them, why, if Riko was capable of such a thing, he would go after him and not Neil himself. As if reading his mind, Kevin continued. “Neil’s too public now. He couldn’t have done it to him.”

“Who else believes this shit?”

Kevin held back on whatever he really knew, and settled for, “Anyone who understands it, agrees with me.”

“Explain it to me like I’m a helpless little kid.” Seth said, straight faced and seething. “Tell me how it could have possibly been him.”

“Did they check you for track marks?” Seth shook his head, but in all honesty, he wasn’t sure. They’d seen the evidence of his pills in his system, and his charts said he was a past user. They didn’t have to, really. Everything they needed to know was right there in his blood work. “If you have a prescription out there, it’s not that hard to find out your meds. You wouldn’t even feel a needle through your clothes with so many people around you. Mix it with your drugs of choice and nobody is going to believe that you didn’t do it yourself.”

“You’re joking.” Seth repeated again, disbelief at how serious Kevin was, at how his face sunk as he spoke, how his eyes trailed off somewhere into the distance while he explained. “And you really believe that?” Kevin nodded. It was infuriating to Seth to finally hear something so outlandish still that actually made a little bit of sense. He knew himself he hadn’t done it, so why was it so hard to believe it had actually been someone else? It hadn’t happened by the grace of God. Somehow the drugs had gotten into his system, and by the amount they’d found, they hadn’t been there long before he’d lost consciousness. So he’d been spiked in the bar. It also made an annoying amount of sense that he’d been poked by a needle and not had something sprinkled into his drink, because Allison had been across from him the whole time they were there. She was smart with her drinks in that way, and she was always aware of wandering hands near their beverages. She would’ve noticed. “So he fuckin’ failed, then. What happens next? He’s gonna just, what, try again?”

“I don’t know.” He said. “I just had to let you know. You’ve been going crazy in here trying to understand it.”

“If I mention your theory to anyone other than your little gang, they’ll fuckin’ have me committed. They’re just waiting for an excuse.” Seth rested his head on his knees, his feet up on the couch. “Nobody is going to actually believe this other than you, you know that, right?”

“I’m sorry.” Kevin’s voice was small. “And for what it’s worth, I know what Riko is like, and you’re just a meaningless pawn in his game. I don’t see you that way. I don’t hate you like you think I do.”

“Don’t push it.” Seth grimaced. “You only tolerate me because your lineup can’t handle the loss of another body.”

“Maybe.” Kevin admitted, and Seth laughed, because he didn’t even try to hide that it was the truth. He didn’t say much else before nodding at Seth and leaving the room, and suddenly Seth felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulder and quickly replaced by another, heavier tonne of bricks. He hated Neil, he hated Kevin, he hated Riko. If it was the truth, if it really was him who’d orchestrated this whole thing, he’d fucked with his life in ways he didn’t even understand. He had people he cared about in his life, people he wanted to live for, but Riko was happy to ruin it all, all for the sake of petty revenge. For a week he’d been in some sort of state between withdrawals and a heavy craving to fall back into a hole he’d assumed he’d crawled out of for good. Nobody trusted him, and everyone looked at him differently, no matter how much they tried to hide it. He looked at himself differently, a brush with death an untimely reminder that his life was finite. He’d avoided death too many times, and his chances had to have finally been depleted. Riko didn’t know what he’d done to Seth’s bare minimum instinct of survival by fucking up and letting him live.

He had looked Kevin in the eye, as the only one who seemed to understand him when he felt like screaming from the rooftops it wasn’t fucking me! Kevin who he’d despised since the first time he opened his mouth, Kevin who was too good for them all, full of himself, in love with himself; he’d felt so alone since waking up in that hospital, and God, did it feel terrible that Kevin Day was the one person who seemed to understand.

#Seth was a welbutrin king #fight me on that~#seth gordon #aftg #allison reynolds #Kevin day #tfc #all for the game #the foxhole court #this is kind of a stupid ramble that’s not even properly proof read I just #have never ever written Seth before and this is such a compelling prompt #to imagine the fallout of him surviving that overdose #if my medical takes are inaccurate that’s not my fault #just pretend that it’s possible he would’ve survived that concoction okay #suspend ur disbelief #enjoy<3 #I did cut this short bc I feared I was going on too long ok #no but for real I will literally take a prompt for Exites Employee Number Two if that’s what you want my friend #mine

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a-sandquist-art · 2 months

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A CRAP load of NPCs for one of my current modern magic DnD campaign PCs: Swan! I'll have to post their actual art once I'm done revamping their own Ref.

Whose Who under the read more!

Haigha - Their mom who is also a nighthag, its a complicated relationship

Grisha Gusev - Their late father, a drow artificer, very gepetto meets wonder emporium, went insane and died before Swan was born

Ruby Rosetta - Their adoptive Mom, bartender and owner of the Drunken Sailor, a pirate themed bar

Bjorn Rosetta - Their adoptive Dad, and bouncer at the Drunken Sailor

Taffetia / Taffy - An aunt figure to them, Taffy taught Swan to be a bard once they were adopted by Ruby and Bjorn, Taffy frequently preforms at the bar

Westley Sniverback - Their talent agent and manager for their Preforming Troupe: The Baroque Arts Collective

Their troupe! In order:

Primrose Golden-Ore (she/her)

Dwelf (dwarf-elf), shes stout and chubby and very bubbly, she is a lead vocalist and has a very operatic approach and voice, closest member to swan as they practice together a lot

Anton Roque (he/him)

air genasi, lean athletic/acrobatic build, typically male lead in both theatrical or dance/ballet type preformance, very confident and a bit egoist but not obnoxiously, he just thinks very highly of himself but still hypes up others too

Harry Fleetfoot (He/Him)

Human, he was raised / adopted by gnomes, kind of anxious and easily flustered but one of their best instrumental preformers, has stage fright when it comes to singing / speaking though

Trip (They/Them)

Goblin, one of two twin goblins, they are the quick change and backstage managers basically, they help with getting sets and props ready, helping the actors change costume and makeup between scenes, things like that, trip is very excitable and manic compared to their twin but they both kind of feed into their respective energy to level out

Tych (She/He/They)

Goblin, the other twin of Trip, she’s more level headed and logical but still rattles off at a million miles per hour, constantly multitasking, Trip is one of the few who can keep up with their pace easily

Feyfrya Bounty (She/Her)

Eladrin, very tall and slender, she’s the main choreographer and director for their preformances, she is very strict and stoic but is fiercly protective of her troupe, the only one she is a bit more specifically harsh with is swan, as she can tell swan is putting on some kind of facade but hasn’t been able to piece it fully together yet

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 1 year

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Going Trick or Treating with Ted Logan would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(This is super late but it was in my drafts and finished so here~)

- Ted spent a lot of his childhood being “the older brother” so even though Halloween is arguably his favorite holiday, he’s very lax about how he wants to spend it. He’s down for whatever you want to do and sort of just tags along; happy to be there and spending time with you.

- Don’t expect a ton of input when you ask what he wants to be/dress up as. You’ll get a very excited and adamant “for sure” when you question him on whether or not he wants to dress up; and probably if he wants to be in a couples costume with you, but he’ll always respond with an enthusiastic “I don’t know” whenever you ask for any specifics.

- So yeah, it’s more or less your decision to make. You probably choose to be something like a Rockstar and his girlfriend; since it’s a fairly fitting costume all thing considered, but if you’re more of a “this is my one chance a year to dress like an idiot” kind of person, he’ll gladly wear one of those silly foam outfits as well.

- Whatever you guys choose; he’s not embarrassed in the slightest. It’s Halloween, you’re supposed to dress up and look silly. And what’s silly anyways? He’s having fun so who cares.

- But, speaking of costumes: he has absolutely zero focus while browsing the aisles of the Halloween store. He’s bouncing from image to image and getting distracted from/forgetting about the ones he’s already considering because he’s immediately focused on another one. You’ll probably not even wind up buying any of them either, you’ll go home empty handed and just choose something from your closet at the very last minute.

- I don’t think Ted is capable of getting embarrassed: like he legitimately can’t feel shame; at least 90% of the time. He’d happily go trick or treating with you and wouldn’t even bat an eye at the prospect of people your age seeing and making fun of you. He’s simply here to have a good time, and honestly? Good for him.

- As much as he loves trick or treating, he loves sitting on the curb and talking with you even more. The longer the night drags on and the more you decide to “stop for a second” the better; especially when you shiver and he gets to scoot in extra close to “keep you warm”.

- He’s constantly touching: holding your hand, leaning on you, hugging you from behind, rubbing his hands on your arms to warm you up, etc. He’s affectionate and considerate, thank you very much.

- He insists on carrying your candy when he see’s that you’re struggling; even if you insist that you’re fine. How he manages to carry both your bags, along with you on his back a majority of the time, never ceases to confuse and amaze you.

- On that note: piggyback rides; especially if you were dumb and decided to wear uncomfortable shoes.

- The two of you probably cross paths with his brother during the night and the two of them have a stand off in the middle of the street. He almost runs after and tackles him when he makes a comment about how good you look.

- If he was wearing a big latex mask or let you put makeup on him, you’d have to lift it up to kiss him or would wind up with lipstick/face paint all over your face from him kissing you everywhere. I don’t know, it’s just a cute thought.

- He wreaks havoc on his bag of candy. He leaves the night with half of what he collected because of just how much he snacks on his stash. How he doesn’t throw up before morning is genuinely beyond you.

- He would be conflicted but he’d wind up giving you the last/only piece of candy that he has that the two of you mutually love. Like if you had one snickers bar in both your bags combined, he’d really want to have it but he’d know that it’s your favorite so he’d drop it into your bag instead.

- Speaking of: he knows what you love and hate so he swaps stuff out without even saying anything, or grabs something to eat from your pile without asking because he knows you’re gonna give them to him by the end of the night anyway.

- Bill would probably tease the two of you for going out and trick or treating but he’d definitely feel a bit conflicted about whether or not he should have gone afterwards.

- By the end of the night you’re an itchy costume, makeup covered pile of limbs and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#ted logan imagine #ted logan imagines #ted logan headcanons #ted logan headcanon #bill and ted imagine #bill and ted headcanons #bill and ted headcanon #bill and ted imagines #80s movie imagines #80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon

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liaslemonpies · 4 months

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Catrina (Miguel O’Hara x Mexican! Reader)

This is only an example of how a Catrina looks like, but isn’t your costume specifically.

TW: fluff! a hint of smut (just kissing and a lead-up) Coconut Spanglish 😒 otherwise, nothing else to worry about :3

Summary: Miguel helps you get ready for a competition hosted by MOLAA (Museum of Latin American Arts) where you must dress up as a Catrina (La Muerta; Death)

I seen someone post about this imagine and I thought that’d be really neat! It’s not a sequel to my other Mexican! Reader story, but rather something completely separate.

This is actually based on a festival MOLAA actually held that I attended with my family this year :) it was really fun seeing everyone come together and just celebrate our heritage (the costumes the women wore were AMAZING and I can’t wait for next year! Maybe I’ll even dress up :0).

That’s just about it :) as always, I will refer to the reader with female pronouns (when applicable) and your are the beloved wife of our hunk of a man 😍

Enjoy!

******************************************************************************************************************

You hummed gently as you pinned the last couple of foam marigolds to your dress, stepping back to admire your work.

The whole costume had taken you close to three months, extra time added when you decided to hand make the golden flowers that littered your dress.

You rubbed the fabric of the dress between your fingers as you observed it’s intricate stitching. It was a gift, curtesy of your husband after he saw how you seemed to pull off every article of clothing your heritage had to give.

You had always noticed the way his eyes followed the shape of whatever clothes you wore (it was a blouse at the time)—the way it hugged your thick curves quite nicely, he might add—and the way your beaded earrings swayed and glinted in the light as you nodded your head at his words.

You smiled at the memory as you removed your completed dress from its rack. That was one of your first handful of dates, before the two of you got married.

You set the dress gently on your bed before sliding on arm covers and gloves with a bone-like pattern. Then, you slowly stripped yourself of your clothes and managed to put on the wire frame that went beneath your large dress.

You grunted as you clicked the frame in place, taking a moment to ensure its security before moving to grab your dress.

You slid it over your head after you removed your top and bra—Miguel had suggested you use a strapless bra, and you complied—and adjusted the dress to your body, smoothening the ruffles and assuring the flowers were pinned correctly.

As you busied yourself with fixing your dress and gathering makeup supplies, you couldn’t help but feel a bubbling anxiety rise within you as your gloved hands wandered to run through your long dark hair.

You were selfish for it, you thought as your gaze wandered to your jewelry box, reminding you how you needed to pick out some earrings.

He didn’t need to help you, and you didn’t know why you forced him to. He was a busy man, with working at the Spider Society and all, and he couldn’t be there for your stupid little problems like fixing your hair. He had better things to do, like save the world, you scolded yourself as your fingers toyed with the beads on a pair your mother gifted you.

You took a gentle breath to stable yourself before choosing the earrings and setting them to the side as you pulled out hair supplies.

You were very fine on your own. You could… you could do it, you tried to convince yourself as you stared at the hairbrushes and bobby-pins before you. You’ve braided your hair before, just not… like he did.

You ran a hand down your face at your little predicament, but raised your head when there was a sift rap at your door.

“¿Mi cielo? ¿Estás aquí?” (My sky, are you here?).

“Si, amor. Y ya estoy en mi vestido.” (Yes, love. And I am already in my dress).

Miguel eases your bedroom door open and you couldn’t help but notice all the injuries that littered his body.

“Hard mission?” you asked him as your eyes scanned for any detrimental injuries.

He only nodded as he took another couple of steps closer to you.

You raised a brow, “Are you... alright?”

His large hand moved to cup your cheek as he smiled, “Eres hermosa, mi reina.” (You are beautiful, my queen).

You felt your cheeks heat up as he complimented you, “S’ nothing...”

He laid a tender kiss on your forehead before taking a step back, “So.”

Your brows furrowed, “So?”

“Did you want me to braid your hair now or later?”

You blinked. He... still wanted to help?

“Are you sure? You must be tired... I don’t mind doing it on my own,” you lied.

He smiled gently, “When will I never be tired? Besides, I made a promise to mi cariño and I intend on keeping it.” (My dear).

His words made your heart swell. You did not deserve such a man as he.

You swallowed the lump in your throat before answering, “Ahora.” (Now).

He nodded and placed his mask on your dresser as he ushered you to sit on your bed.

You sat down and tried to get comfortable—with no avail due to the wire holding your dress up—and relaxed your muscles as he brushed your hair.

He then began parting it, tying one half in a ponytail before working to braid the other half.

The room was quiet as he worked, other than the sound of him weaving a ribbon through your hair as he braided.

The silence was broken by his gentle voice, “Necesito una liga.” (I need a rubber band).

You grabbed the small elastic rubber band and handed it to Miguel, earning a small thanks as he tied the braid and moved to the other side of your head.

You hummed gently as he worked on the second braid, fingers weaving swiftly.

“Que sobre cantantes?” (What do you sing about?)

A smile tugged at your lips at his question, “La Llorona.”

Miguel chuckled at your answer, “Very fitting for the moment, Señorita Catrina.” (Miss Death).

“Actually, it’s Señora, to you,” you bit back a laugh as you joked. (Misses).

A laugh erupted from Miguel’s chest, “I’m sorry, Señora. I did not mean to offend you or your husband.”

You smiled as you handed him a second rubber band, “Thank you for your apology, Señor. However do know that I will be telling my husband of what you have said to me.” (Sir).

Miguel couldn’t help but smile at your antics as he tied the last braid, “Please Señora, I only wish to please you...”

“No! You have done nothing but tried to tear my husband and I apart and it is time you face the consequences of your actions,” you tried your best to stifle the laughter that bubbled in your throat.

Miguel leaned in to you, his hot breath tickling the back of your neck as he purred, “Not before you face the consequences of yours...”

You yelped and turned to smack his chest playfully, earning a chuckle from his lips.

“Miguel!”

He smirked as he pinned the braids into a crown on your head, “Qué tal?” (What’s up?).

You only huffed response, cheeks tinted red as you took a breath to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

“Ya. It’s finished,” Miguel took a step back to observe his work. It looked pretty good, if he said so himself.

You eased yourself up and looked at your hair with the handheld mirror he passed you.

“Wow...”

Miguel cleared his throat gently before asking, “Lo te gustas?” (Do you like it?)

You beamed at him, taking his hands in yours as you laughed gently, “I love it.”

A smile broke onto his face—you would never get enough of it, would you?—and you couldn’t help but laugh again.

“I feel like this is the happiest I’ve seen you in a while,” you commented as you reached for some flowers you bought earlier that day.

Miguel reached for you, hands running up and down your hips, “How can I not be happy? My goddess of a wife is embracing the beauty of our culture.”

He leaned down to kiss your lips tenderly, hands trailing to cup your cheek.

You smiled against his lips as you replied, “You’ve always had a way with words, Señor O’Hara.”

He broke the kiss and caressed your cheek, chuckling gently, “Don’t you have your face to paint?”

You huffed gently, pretending to pout, “You’re always out to ruin the moment.”

He smirked as he leaned into your ear, “How about this... You win the competition, and I’ll give you a moment you’ll never forget...”

You shivered as his breath tickled your ear, adding with a playful tone, “Hm... Maybe... We’ll see how it goes.”

“Que bueno. Ya vas a pintar tu cara para me arruínelo,” he growled as he squeezed your butt before leaving the room to shower and get ready. (Good. Now go paint your face so I can ruin it).

Your time at the festival couldn’t have ended quickly enough.

After Miguel had finished showering and you finished your makeup and put flowers and your headdress on, you left to the festival.

It was wonderfully put together with many shows, artwork by Latino painters, and delicious food—this caused you to decorate a calavera dulce (sugar skull) for Miguel, only to have him deem it ‘disgusting’ and ‘overly sweet’.

The competition went... surprisingly well. Granted, you didn’t get first place, but ‘honorable mentions’ is better than nothing and you and Miguel collectively decided that the top three definitely won fair-in-square.

You sat at one of the tables they had out, snacking on pinwheels with lemon and Tapatío as Miguel returned to your table with two drinks—water for you and a margarita for him.

“Gracias, amor,” you thanked him as you took the drink and sipped it.

He only nodded as he took a sip of his drink, crinkling his nose as he coughed.

You raised a brow, “You alright...?”

He put a hand up as he continued to cough, eyes watering.

You only stared at him as he calmed down, brows knitted with concern.

“Miércoles, that’s terrible.” (Wednesday—it doubles as ‘Shit’).

“Substitute words are the same as the real ones,” you told him bluntly as you hit back a snicker.

He only rolled his eyes as he cleared his throat and took a breath to compose himself.

After finishing your snacks and drinks—Miguel simply threw his away—the two of you decided to leave early.

You carefully peeled your headdress off before getting in the car, Miguel in the driver’s side.

You grunted as you fought to remove the wire that fanned your dress out, brows furrowed with annoyance.

With a huff, you managed to unclip it from underneath your dress and slipped out of it, leaving your dress to hang on your frame.

Stuffing the troublesome wire into the backseat, you plopped yourself in the passenger’s side, brows raised in confusion as your husband stared at you.

You began plucking flowers out of your braid crown as you blinked, “Yes?”

Miguel hummed gently before laying a peck on your lips, “Chistosa.” (Silly).

You rolled your eyes as you toyed with the ring on your finger, “Thanks.”

Miguel chuckled as he took your hand, “No es algo malo.” (It is not something bad).

“You make it sound like it is,” you replied bluntly.

Miguel leaned in to your lips and kissed you gently, “Creo que es... bueno.” (I think it is... good).

You huffed gently, wanting to be petty by holding onto his words.

Miguel scoffed at your petty silence and turned the car on, “Chillona.” (Crybaby).

You smacked his bicep playfully as you don’t back a smile, “Ruuude.”

Miguel laughed as he pulled out of the parking lot, “Fine. You don’t get that reward I promised you.”

You faked a gasp and placed a hand to your chest, “How dare you! Going back on a promise!”

“Behave yourself, then. Or I’ll think of other ways to punish you.”

You puckered your lips as your brows raised, “Damn. Spicyyyy.”

Miguel rolled his eyes and chuckled, “Ya cállate.” (Shut up).

You winked as you leaned over to peck his jawbone, “Fine. Only because I love you...”

Miguel turned and grabbed your face and kissed your lips, nibbling gently at your bottom lip, earning a mewl from your lips.

Safe to say, you arrived home quite late that night.

#miguel x reader fluff #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #wife!reader

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mushiewrites · 2 years

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Whiskers and Eyeliner

Day 2 is for a request from @kasey-writes-stuff for lee!Dream and ler!Karl! Prompt from this post for the Tickletober event!

Day 2: Drawn On

(lee!Dream / ler!Karl : 1.8k words)

It was just an eyeliner pencil; something Sapnap had picked up at the halloween store when trying to find their ridiculous costumes. It was gel, specifically made for the purpose of being used as costume makeup, both so it wasn’t too harsh on the skin and so you didn’t have to press down as hard as a regular eyeliner to see results.

Dream let out a frustrated sigh when he flinched again, groaning and closing his eyes in annoyance. He looked at himself in his bathroom mirror, then turned his attention to the small pencil in his hand, spinning it between his two fingers as he contemplated whether he should continue or not. He knew he had to, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. When Sapnap and George had brought up the idea that he should be Patches for halloween, Dream immediately agreed, knowing it would be a minimal effort costume with maximum rewards, getting to see all the fanart of it for weeks to come. He set the eyeliner onto the marbled countertop of the sink, looking into the mirror and adjusting the brown ears that sat amongst his dirty blonde waves before glancing down again at the eyeliner.

It was just an eyeliner pencil. So why did it tickle so badly?

A loud bang on his bedroom door pulled him from his thoughts, noticing his reflection was now bearing pink dusted cheeks where his tan freckles usually reside. Dream turned his head slightly as the door swung open, Karl bursting into the room in his bright green frog costume. He made his way over to Dream who had turned his attention back to the mirror, messing with the eyeliner again between his palms. The two met eyes in their reflections, Karl’s smile faltering slightly when he realized Dream wasn’t ready yet.

“You’re not even ready! What have you been doing back here all this time, Dream? I mean we know you’re handsome, but seriously.” the blonde shook his head with a smirk, a quick burst of air huffing from his nose at the comment.

“I-I just am having issues with this stupid eyeliner thing. Don’t we have any black paper I can just tape onto my face in strips or something?” Karl rolled his eyes at the comment, taking the eyeliner from Dream and turning his chair so the younger boy could face him . “Why do I even need the whiskers? I have the ears!”

“You can’t be a cat without whiskers, that’s unheard of. What are you, an idiot? Just come here, Dream.” the giggly brunette leaned down, eyeliner in hand as it made a beeline straight for Dream’s right cheek. However, the minute Karl touched the eyeliner down against Dream’s cheek and moved it slightly, the blonde was recoiling back with a yelp before he could process what had even happened.

“What the hell was that for?” Karl was still giggling, trying to assess the situation that was currently playing out. He allowed his eyes to get a good look at Dream, really taking in the details; Dream’s cheeks were bright red, his lips pressed together as he appeared to be struggling to keep his laughter in. It suddenly clicked for Karl, his smile turning into a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He could see the exact moment Dream realized Karl knew what was going on, and he began to cackle as the younger brought his hands up in embarrassment to cover his overheating face.

“Tell me your cheeks aren’t ticklish, Dream. There’s no way,” Karl raised an eyebrow when he saw green eyes peeking out from behind pale hands, a nervous shrug accompanying an anxious giggle that had managed to slip past his fingers. “Oh my gosh, they are!”

Dream groaned through another giggle, finally removing his hands from covering his face and crossing them against his chest with a flustered huff.

“I didn’t know that, okay! But every time I try and draw the stupid whiskers my cheek gets all….you know! And then I mess it up and have to start all over. It’s fucking annoying.” Dream turned his head slightly to point down at the trashcan in the corner of the room, filled to the brim with dark stained tissues, no doubt from the failed attempts with the eyeliner.

“Oh stop, it’s adorable,” Dream rolled his eyes as Karl very clearly tried to stifle his laugh, trying not to embarrass Dream any further than he already was. “Come on, let me help you.”

Dream thought about it for a second before letting out a nervous chuckle, whining slightly as he turned his face back towards Karl.

“I’m gonna try and go fast, okay?” Karl got a grunt back in response and took that as the okay to get started. He tapped the eyeliner down on the top of Dream’s cheek, drawing it out towards his temple slowly. Karl had been trying to make the line as straight as possible, but this task seemed impossible to do with Dream’s cheeks moving due to him trying to suppress his giggles. The curly haired boy couldn’t help the fond smile that was forming everytime Dream’s nose twitched from how bad the pencil was tickling his face. It was fucking adorable.

Dream was sitting surprisingly still through the second whisker, more towards the middle of his cheek and out towards his ear. But when Karl was drawing out the final line, dragging it down towards the blonde’s jaw, Dream flinched violently, causing Karl to draw a line down under his chin instead.

“Dreheam! You just messed me up, you idiot! Now I have to fix it!” he couldn’t help but giggle along with Dream, the blonde fidgeting with his hands in his lap as he tried to keep his hands away from the drying gel on his face.

“I’m sohohorry! I didn’t mehean it, I-I cahan’t help ihit.” The blush was slowly coloring Dream’s neck a light shade of pink, the embarrassment getting to him a little more now that his skin felt even more sensitive with the anticipation of the eyeliner returning to his cheek once again.

“Alright, let me just wipe this off before it stains,” Karl grabbed another tissue from the box, noticing immediately how little was left in the box and how much Dream must have messed up drawing on himself. It made Karls heart feel warm, picturing the younger boy giggling to himself as he tried to draw whiskers on. Karl wiped the black line clean, bringing the pencil down and quickly finishing the line before Dream had time to react. “There! See, that wasn’t so bad.”

“Nohoho, but it feels all tingly and weird.” The blonde refused to make eye contact with the boy standing above him, knowing his blush would probably turn him purple at this point. He heard Karl bark out a laugh at that, making him finally lift his head to see what was so hilarious.

“You can just say your cheeks are ticklish.” Dream’s ears were on fire, his cheeks blazing and spreading throughout his body like a wildfire. He could see goosebumps prickle his skin at the mention of the word, causing an involuntary shiver to run down his spine. Dream rubbed his hands against the thighs of his jeans quickly as a way to release his giddy energy, shrugging and throwing his arms up after a few seconds of silence.

“I’m not saying that!” Dream finally managed to whine out, making Karl laugh even harder.

“Okay cutie, come on. The others are gonna come kill us if we’re not out there in the next ten seconds,” Karl took a step forward, placing a hand on Dream’s left cheek to turn his head slightly for a better angle to draw against. Giggles were already tumbling out of Dream, unable to stop them as Karl once again drew the top line just under his eye. He moved his hands to wring at his shirt, trying to focus on something other than how bad it was tickling.

Karl successfully drew the middle line with little issue, but he knew that this last line would be the issue. They were in the homestretch now, and he was not about to deal with an inpatient Sapnap.

“Alright, last one Dream. Think you can stay still? Or is your jaw too ticklish, too?” Karl teased, a snicker following as Dream’s hand came up to shove against the smaller boy’s hip. He readjusted himself to be back directly in front of Dream, grabbing his chin to hold him in place as Karl went to draw the final line.

“N-nohoho come ohohon! H-Hurry! You’re dohohoing this on puhuhurpose!” Dream was nearly in hysterics as Karl kept a strong grip on Dream’s chin, keeping his head in place as he slowly drew the last whisker.

“KAHAHAHARL NOHOHO!” the brunette couldn’t help but giggle mischievously at that, continuing to go back over the line near his jaw painfully slow. Karl decided to show mercy and finally released him, stepping back to appreciate his work. He spun Dream’s chair around as the last of the giggles finally simmered out to show him the whiskers.

“Oh my gohosh, this is horrible!” Dream let out a wheeze before breaking into cackles, seeing how wobbly the lines on his face were. “What did you even dohoho?!”

“Listen, if I didn’t have such a ticklish canvas it would’ve turned out better than this, okay?” The comment made Dream press his lips together quickly, not wanting to provoke Karl than he already had. Karl smiled and poked his nose with the eyeliner, coloring in a black nose to complete his costume. To his surprise, Dream let out a little squeak when Karl finally pulled the eyeliner away. They shared a look, one that was a mutual understanding. Karl was the first to take the bait though, and the teasing began once again.

“....So, the tip of your nose is ticklish?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Excuse me?”

“.....I’m sorry?”

“Right. I’ll remember this, Dreamie,” Karl turned on his heels, making his way towards the door to go meet the others that were waiting downstairs. He turned around when he was in the hallway, leaning back through the doorway with a finger pointed at the blonde. “Watch yourself.”

Dream realized he shouldn’t be intimidated by a man in a frog suit, but nonetheless, he swallowed thickly as he made his way towards the door to follow Karl, already planning to be on high alert the rest of the night.

#lee!dream #ler!karl #augtickletober2022 #i got this silly lil idea last night randomly #its cute okay #and spoopy #i love them #mcyt tickle #my stuff #mushie fics #this was done in one stream on consciousness #so if this is weirdly flowed i apologize #this is also scheduled!

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emypony · 1 year

Text

Honkai Idol AU

this is all ur fault @spectral-claws IDOL FELIS BE UPON YE

I will now proceed to go ahead and post my rambles, thank you to @izzyandviolins for letting me ping her all the time and just dump all the brainrots I have whenever

Idk how much sense these will make AND i will put more specific stuff at the end for everyone else who would just like the general AU idea at the start

DISCLAIMER I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IDOLS OR KPOP GROUPS ASIDE FROM A VERY OUTSIDER PERSPECTIVE OF WHAT I SEE ON MY DASH 🙏

EDIT: This actually got hella long so I will be putting it under a read more, oh my god I am so sorry

Now for the groups:

1. there's obviously our 4 main girls: Kiana, Mei, Bronya and Fu Hua

Himeko is the coach / choreographer, Tesla makes props and Einstein does Costumes / Makeup, Welt is the Manager (this is REALLY. im well aware theres a ton more ppl behind idol / kpop groups but you know its just. ITS JUST WHAT IT IS WITH THE CHARACTERS THAT WE HAVE, OKAY)

2. Senti's main group consisting of!! Senti (obviously), Sirin (HoV), Seele, Veliona (they're a package duo), Sushang and Carole (yes she is here, no I will not elaborate --- ok maybe I will)

3. A few flamechasers: Pardofelis (which is a!!! New Idol!! She's the main focus of this group atm since the stans love her to bits--- catgirl charm. I promise there is a reason for this statement) Elysia, Eden, Mobius (I am not that familiar with her so she would either be part of the group OR maybe act like the on-set medic or whichever), Sakura, Vill V AND Aponia (maybe, there's a 5th group I'm thinking about however it's kind of still an idea so I will leave her here for now)

4. The GuysTM: Kevin, Su (the most marketable out of all of them), Kalpas (shocking, I know. I hc he's in gacha debt from genshin impact) and MAYBE Adam and Lyle but only bc Carole is there I'm putting them with a ?

I don't know where to fit Kosma, Griseo and Teri or Durandal and Rita (im sorry fellas im not that acquainted with them but you're 100% free to suggest something for them)

Now a bit about relationships between members of the groups or other groups:

Seele and Bronya are Dating so Seele (and by extension Veliona) are always hanging out with Bronya's group (though Veli might stay behind sometimes because she gets on relatively alright with Senti)

Sirin and Senti have a one sided rivalry from Sirin because she wants to prove she's the best and always challenges Senti to dance battles or. whatever it is that Kpop / Idols do (idont know dont ask me) but Senti is distracted by her own one sided. Rivalry (and it is NOT towards Fu Hua LOL) They're just dummy but they are a nice combo together when dancing

Speaking of Senti and Fu Hua, I see them like a past dance Duo that was supposed to compliment each other however after Senti was mostly cast and categorized by the fans as a twin / copycat of Fu Hua, she got fed up and went to develop her own solo style. things were mostly tensioned between them however Fu Hua doesn't hold resentment over what Senti did and she also feels like her new spot with Kiana, Mei and Bronya is better, and she also really likes Senti's own evolution apart from her own. Whenever Senti gets dragged along to Kiana's group and meets up with her, she's a bit awkward, but Hua is able to get past that and manages to get her talking (Senti doesn't start a conversation when they meet up, even if she does seek out Hua more than Hua herself, although she doesn't mind. It doesn't take much to go "so what's the recent idol group news" and then Senti goes off abt things the media reports on and other things and. she just starts talking and doesn't stop. Hua listens and gives advice but mostly lets Senti talk about whatever she's dealing with and maybe figure things out on her own by voicing them out loud. She values her as a more awkward friend (compared to her original hard go getter attitude from when they were a duo together) so she doesn't mind listening to her (mostly funny and unhinged) rants about the world of idol / media since she doesnt keep up with whatever drama is going on

+ Senti has got a funny friendly rivalry with Kiana at least and they're able to enjoy themselves ((compared to Sirin and Kiana who have REALLY got their own more serious rivalry))

Mei hangs out with Ely and Eden frequently enough to hold a friendly relationship with them as well as the rest of the flame chasers group and the guys. Elysia keeps begging their managers to let Mei Collab with them much more often.

Carole and Fu Hua go way back before their Idol days and Carole isn't shy whatsoever in jumping Hua whenever she gets the chance. She's way more into fashion and makeup and skincare and all of that and while Hua loves that she's so energetic, she can get a bit much but thankfully Carole knows when to step back a little and focus her energy beam on someone else. (They are great friends that don't talk on the daily but they can catch up without issues)

Li Sushang has a more ... mmm whats the word. Cordial? Relationship with Fu Hua? I'm a bit lost where to place her, mostly because I see her as Fu Hua's dance duo that didn't work out so she got relocated to another group better suited for her style. Unsure if this was before or after Senti teamed up with Hua, but Sushang does hold a bit of animosity towards Senti for that (nothing too bad, but she does wonder how the hell could they have been a dance duo when Senti seems like the complete opposite of Hua in regards to what she does - because she is a little bit crazy at times especially if left alone with Carole). They do have a general ok relationship and Sushang enjoys hanging out with everyone

Senti finds Carole a bit much at times (shocking, I know) but she is fun to hang around with and do mischief (Especially when Veliona joins in. They are banned from the kitchen along with Kiana)

Most of the Flamechasers and the guys keep to themselves BUT Carole will bother Kalpas to no end and he's so pissed off about it except she works out and he cannot beat her in an arm wrestling contest or anything for that matter so he has to rightfully suffer the wrath of a girl with 17 steps of bedtime skincare routine <3

NOW HERE IS WHERE WE GET INTO THINGS THAT ARE INCREDIBLY SELF INDULGENT FOR ME mostly because they are Sentifelis so. I do apologize but also I tried to keep most of it towards the end

OK SO AS I'VE SAID PARDO IS A NEW ADDITION TO THE FLAMECHASERS IDOL GROUP AND THE STANS ARE OBSESSED WITH HER !!! She's literally a catgirl with a cute aesthetic, it's a recipe for success

the funniest part: SENTI HATES HER (at the beginning at least) because until her, she was kind of one of the top spots on the 'idol leaderboard' or whatever (idk if thats a thing, people like diff idols / kpop artists etc but like. POPULARITY POLL?) and she's out there with Elysia BUT AS SOON AS FELIS CAME SHE JUST BULLDOZED RIGHT THROUGH ALL OF THAT and she's UPSET (or thinks she is anyway)

Fans also started comparing them a lot because of their different dance styles - Senti has more of a street dance type, and Felis is good at doing very fluid motions (mostly because of her tail) and fans love them both

Felis actually admires Senti so much as a fellow idol and somehow even after working with the group for a while she doesn't get to meet Senti at all and that's kind of her dream she just wants to 🥺befriend Senti she thinks shes SO cool

Senti would rather die before admitting that she actually thinks that Felis is really cute and isn't surprised that she's garnered such a large fanbase even though she hasn't worked as an idol for as long as the others, she finds her dance moves really nice ESPECIALLY because of her tail. BUT SHE IS GOING TO DENY THESE TILL THE END OF TIME (or so she claims) -

Like Sirin will just come to her on the daily to ask to practice and dance battle and will get completely brushed aside. See:

Sirin: "Today i will!! finally be top center stage instead of Senti!! i will finally beat her in the popularity poll!" She tries to get a rise out of Senti by claiming she is better and such but there's nothing, because Senti is just. too busy scrolling on her FYP on Tik Tok.

Senti: "Can you believe people made Fancams of Pardofelis AGAIN??? WHAT DOES SHE HAVE THAT I DON'T!! I HATE HER SO MUCH!!" (real 100% not clickbait) SHES TOO BUSY GOING OFF ABOUT "HATING" THE MEOW MEOW

Veliona: "you watched like 20 different fucking fancams. i thought you hated her"

Senti: "I DO I HATE HER SO MUCH ugh look at how they added a green sparkles and a neon cat ears and whiskers filter to this one. She looks way better in pink."

Sirin: "STOP LOOKING AT FANCAMS AND DO A DANCE BATTLE WITH ME RIGHT NOW!!!" *gets ignored*

Veliona, giving a look to Seele who just smiles and waves her hand to leave them be (insert 'I know what you are' dog meme here): 🧍‍♀️

I'm not sure if this ever happens in kpop 'biz' but imagine the 4 groups end up under the same publishing company so now they will all be living closer to each other (I have no idea wtf housing looks like for kpop stars or idols LOL) and collab more often and just meet at the workplace. SENTI HATES THIS OBVIOUSLY and like!! Felis definitely notices the cold shoulder she is given 🥺. She tries to say hi to Senti because she's super excited but Senti thinks she's just there to. Like show off that she's somehow better?? With her cute flicking ears and waving tail and her painted nails and her mismatched stockings BYE Senti cannot deal with this (she is confused and just hides it all behind an unfriendly facade)

Poor Felis is sad because she thinks she's done something wrong and she was so looking forward to meet Senti 😭😭😭

The same kind of behavior continues, because Senti can't really bring herself to be mean to Felis and tell her to get lost (especially when she's got that sad puppy look on her face) and always attempts to flee to another place instead. Their fellow idol coworkers DO notice, but most of them console Felis and say that's how Senti usually is with newcomers and that maybe she will warm up with time.

BONUS: There is a tiny part of the fandom shipping them - as you would and while they never got to get an interview from Felis about it, Senti is SHOCKED to find out that there's ppl making fics and fanart AND FANCAMS OF THEM (which are mostly taped together bc there's barely any interaction between them in media lmao). Like who in their right mind!! This is inconceivable to her!! She is so pissed about that too bc shes like "WHY ISNT PARDOFELIS SAYING ANYTHING TO THE PRESS ABOUT IT ... WE ARE NOT A THING!! WTF!! THIS IS ALL HER FAULT" (does not actually think its her fault and actually wonders where the fuck did fans get that impression but people will be people. ALSO no I don't condone rpf or any of that with actual real people, these r just fictional characters. and this is fanfiction inside a fanfiction)

Meanwhile I believe Felis would have a secret account on all social medias at least taking a look at that side of their fandom / fanbase and seeing what the people think in regards to that (she cant figure out why Senti won't be her friend, so maybe others will??? The theories and speculations people come up with are so funny though)

Afterwards, I would love to have them all taking a trip somewhere - to ... celebrate the fact that the companies and groups have merged or whatever (preferably the woods or. SOMEPLACE. Maybe with Caves? Yeah I'm pulling the 'stuck in a cave with no reception' trope on them, what will you do about it?) and that's how they finally get to have a 1 on 1 together, mostly because Felis is going to get a bit scared and thinks there's no way out of there.

Felis: "oh my god im too young to die!!! i didnt even get your autograph yet in my journal And I still have curry leftovers in my fridge that I didn't eat and I was so looking forward to them!!!"

Senti: "what."

Felis: "what ?"

Senti: "You...want my autograph?"

Felis: "Of course!! 🥺👉👈you're my biggest inspiration I admire your dance moves so much you look SO good on the screen and in concerts I I don't know how you do it I freak out all the time and think people can notice it BUT YOU LOOK SO CALM AND COMPOSED AND COOL-" and she has to stop herself because she's gushing dfjkghfd

and oh. okay maybe. MAYBE SENTI WAS HATING ON HER FOR NO REASON ACTUALLY...

With this they finally have a heart to heart and Senti apologizes for being so cold to Felis, she (begrudgingly) admits that she felt kind of threatened by Felis's onset popularity from the get go. Felis doesn't mind at all and is rather relieved that Senti doesn't ACTUALLY hate her and now they can be !!! friends!!! (Senti is actually overjoyed at their new friendship and hopes to hang out with her a lot more BUT she's incredibly trash at managing her feelings so it still comes off across as a little aloof and 'well, whatever...' but Felis doesn't seem to register that at all and has now resorted to holding Senti's hand because THEY ARE STILL TRAPPED IN A SCARY CAVE AND IT'S DARK

Obviously they are rescued a little while later because people noticed they were missing and such, and while still awkward around each other (mostly Senti, because she is now suddenly RECEIVING A LOT OF ATTENTION from a girl who she will never admit she finds cute, it's still a lot to get used to on day one but she powers through for the sake of it.

After this their friendship and such get better and Felis is no longer a stranger to their group, because she starts hanging out with Senti A LOT MORE once they get back. (and neither of them will tell the others what happened for that change)

Also I like to think Felis barges in Senti's room all the time to give her updates on the. ON THE FANS SPECULATION ABOUT THEM LOL

Felis: "YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE THIS NEW FIC THAT WAS JUST POSTED"

Senti: "what fic"

Felis: "ABOUT US, DUMMY"

Senti: "YOU READ THOSE THINGS?"

Felis: "OF COURSE I DO. SOME ARE REAL GOOD... Someone wrote an Alternate Universe where we're like magical knights fighting against some unknown forces called 'Honkai' !"

Senti: "These people will make up just about anything, I swear"

Felis: "Btw did you know our ship tag is called Sentifelis"

Senti: "Our what."

ANYWAY THATS. JUST ABOUT ALL IM SO SORRY THAT THIS GOT EXTREMELY LONG I HAD NO IDEA I WROTE THIS MUCH? (it looks WAY less in discordf kdjfhgjkdfgdfhjn)

Would love to draw a few of them in idol / kpop like outfits.

ANYWAY UM. ✌ STAN SENTIFELIS

me about to tag every honkai character known to man:

(jk i wont do it I know how tag spam works, I will do my best to be courteous and put the most important ones)

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rattyshipss · 6 months

Text

Presidential level jealousy (Chapter 4) "Dressed to kill"

Stanley Forbes x reader (Me✌️💖) (Romantic) Pip, Ravi, Cara, Jake, and Devon x reader (Platonic)

Below is a reference to what mine and Stanley's costumes look like, minus my Chucky one (Thank you Matthew for this pic😌💖)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"There's a killer stalking the white house and you're throwing a party!"

Said party the group was currently getting ready for, Pip and Ravi in their Bonnie and Clyde couples costume, Pip's hands still partially stained from helping Josh with his Batman costume before they left. Connor and Jamie both dressed up as characters from their favorite childhood show, Zack and Lauren in a disgustingly lovey dovey couples costume, they couldn't decide between an angel and devil or Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, settling on a mix between the two. And finally Cara, in her incredibly detailed Robin Buckley costume from her and Pip's Stranger things watch nights.

All getting ready to meet the others at the white house, of all places, Pip still wondered how they'd even managed to get in but thankful that they did, they needed to, to find Chucky and Grant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stanley and (Y/n) were at their shared home also getting ready. Stanley normally wouldn't give Halloween too much attention, except it was (Y/n)'s favorite holiday. They both decided to at least dress up, both head to toe in black outfits with matching black eye makeup, nothing specific, just... spooky. The pair not wanting to go all out after the year they'd had, nothing too big, but still dressed up.

(Y/n) was sitting on Stanley's lap, facing him and helping him with his eye makeup, intermittently having to touch up certain spots from the smudges caused by your periodic make out sessions, unfortunately because of the situation you guys were dealing with you didn't have time for anything more. You couldn't help yourselves though, seeing eachother all dressed up. "What time does this thing start?" Stanley said, not even knowing himself if he meant the party or the plan.

"8:45" she smiled, causing Stanley to throw his head back, partially in annoyance at their time constraints and partially in adoration of her smile. "Hey I need to finish." She said, tilting his head back up, rolling her eyes. "But we have all night when we get back... if we don't die." And Stanley nearly choked on nothing. "Except for the trick or treaters." He countered, even though he was more than ready to see her being so sweet with all the children. No matter how fucked his past was she always found a way to make any part of it seem beautiful.

(Y/n) finished up Stanley's makeup, stepping away from him to put everything away as Stanley watched her closely from his seat, her other costume packed and ready.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8:35 pm, the group arrives at the white house, Halloween costumes and all, as if this year wasn't already scary enough. As they stepped out of the car it was like the coffee shop on steroids, security guards practically every few feet, large groups of people in costumes just, enjoying the holiday. They stood at the bottom of the grand steps staring up at the building. Jake in a cowboy Chucky costume, Devon in a construction Chucky costume, and finally (Y/n) in a girl Chucky costume, each fit with their own "accessories" in preparation for entering.

"Thoughts and prayers?" (Y/n) said looking toward Connor nervously who laughed uncomfortably in reply. Devon spoke next as they made their way up the steps. "I don't believe in prayer, not anymore, but I do believe in us." Jake nodding between the two. "Me too." Devon stopped as they were about to reach the entrance. "Let's do this for them." He said, referencing all the people Chucky had taken from them, aswell as the victim in Pip's case.

"And they'd want us to go fuck that fucker up."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they entered they were met with more security, slapping bracelets on their wrists to mark their entry. "Next." (Y/n) walked through the the scanner first, immediately setting it off as she looked back towards the others nervously. The security guard waved the metal detecter wand over her partially exposed body, stopping at her head, the man mumbling under his breath and ripping the hair clip from her head causing her long red hair to fall down her shoulders. "What? Hey!"

"Next."

Jake walked through next, also setting off the alarm. "Whoa, easy cowboy. I'm gonna have to take that." The man said gesturing to Jake's lasso. "Seriously?" The man scoffed in clear annoyance, giving a sarcastic smile before replying coldly "Yeah."

"Next."

Devon walked through after, setting off the alarm, again. The man waved the metal detecter over Devon before patting him on the back, smiling.

"Have fun."

The rest of the group quickly following through, one by one, as (Y/n) and Jake rolled their eyes. "Fuck, there goes that. And my costumes ruined." (Y/n) said as Stanley jogged up to catch up to her. "You always look hot." Cara laughed, causing (Y/n) to shrug in agreement. "I still have my phone, so as long as we get Chucky on camera doing his thing, we can get it out there. We can tell Grant and the president, and Pip will have time to talk to Grant. We got this"

"Do we?!" (Y/n) asked, turning around to face the others. "Are people even gonna believe us? It's called a deep fake they'll just think it's special effects." Jake sighed in reply.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"No."

(Y/n) shook her head while the rest of the group listened. "We still have to subdue him somehow, he's won't talk just cause we say please, that might work on Grant, not Chucky." Pip crossed her frustrated with the holes in their plan. "We just have to work with whatever we find in here." Jake looked between the two girls before stepping past them. "We sure as hell aren't gonna find anything we can use on Chucky here." The group walking synchronized again. "We need to get upstairs to the residence." Devon said causing the others to look towards (Y/n), especially Stanley.

"Leave that to me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They walked through another very tall, very wide entrance into another room, this room even more packed with people dressed in costumes. Before they could take three steps into the room someone dressed as a clown jumped infront of the group, yelling inches from their face. "I hate Halloween."

Stanley knew that was a lie, probably the biggest lie she's ever told, and she's had to lie to him about Chucky. Halloween was always her favorite holiday, even after everything that happened on both sides for them. After what happened to Stanley she had even asked him if he'd be more comfortable if they didn't celebrate it anymore, he of course denied her offer, but thought she was the sweetest for even asking.

Past the decently sized fake cemetery archway was where most of the people were, dancing, drinking, laughing. The group walked past a mime doing a high kick, Frankenstein's monster, and about a dozen witches, all the masks around making Ravi feel uneasy. They stared at their surroundings in awe, looking at all the lights, the people, and the giant swirling hypnosis type screen behind the dj, before the group heard (Y/n) let out a shriek. "Boo!" "Oh, shit!" They turned to see Grant with his arms wrapped around her from behind, Stanley having to resist the urge to rip him off of her.

"Hey, (Y/n). It's so good to see you." Grant said pulling her into a hug. "Happy Halloween!" She smiled at him, nervously looking towards Stanley. "Oh, you look amazing." Shit. Now she was even more anxious about Stanley. "T-thanks. You too." Grant looked nervous too, about half as nervous as she was, but still nervous. "Oh, um, I want you to meet my parents. They're over here." "Oh, cool. yeah." Grant lead her towards them, the rest of the group following closely behind.

"Mom, dad. Hey, excuse me, sorry." Grant said nudging some important looking people away from his parents. "This is (Y/n), um, and Jake and Devon, and... everybody else." He laughed awkwardly. "Hello. James Collins." Grant's dad shoot (Y/n)'s hand. "Hi. Nice to meet you." The rest of their introductions following.

Stanley knew it was stupid, knew it wasn't that big of a deal but he couldn't help it, couldn't help feeling that deep pit in his stomach, a mix of sadness and embarrassment at the fact that he couldn't bring (Y/n) to meet his parents. That was what normal couples did, he'd met hers, but she could never meet his.

"I just love your outfits." Grant's mother smiled at them. "Our son Henry loves Good Guys too. And Stranger Things." She said gesturing towards Cara who did a little bow. The Chucky look alikes thanking her. "Mine's the best though, right?" Devon said, doing a little twirl, Grant's mother laughing. "It's very impressive." "I know a guy." Devon said, leaning closer to Jake who tilted his head with a smile. "I take it you're the guy?" "Yeah. Jake" Jake replied with a smile, everyone smiling with what seemed to be genuin smiles for once, letting their guards down for a second and just enjoying themselves, even if the topic still revolved around Chucky.

"(Y/n), I admit I haven't heard much because our son is pretty tight-lipped, at least with his family." His mother said looking over (Y/n)'s features as Grant rolled his eyes embarrassed. "But what I have heard is great." The conversation faded away as Grant's father seemed to be distracted by something, or someone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, Grant, where is your brother?" (Y/n) said as the group followed Grant. "Henry? Uh, he's upstairs. He's having some kind of, like, mental breakdown or something." Grant said shaking his head and shrugging. "Oh, is there any way that we could see the residence?" She asked, immediately seeing Grant tense up. "Oh, um, that's kind of, like, a whole other thing. I mean, you thought the invite protocol was hard."

"I mean," (Y/n) stepped closer towards him. "I'd love to see your room." Grant, aswell as the rest of the group froze, Stanley gritting his teeth. "Yeah, for sure, follow me."

This was gonna be a long night.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Happy Halloween!🎃🔪❤️

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jujumin-translates · 1 year

Text

Event | the Rad Red | Chapter 9

Taichi: “You’re surprisingly detailed, Senri. You definitely get dumped early in a relationship ‘cause of it, don’t you?”

Banri: “Shut it. But what did you get from it?”

Taichi: “A new song! ♪~♪~”

Director: (Autumn Troupe’s Ninth Performance turned out to be a slightly bitter coming-of-age story with a band theme, inspired by the Rad Red song.)

Director: (The cast includes the four band members who performed at the recent concert, Sakyo-san as Taichi-kun’s father, and Omi-kun as a record company employee.)

Director: (After rehearsing the play every day, the band members stay behind to practice with the band.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Director: Okay then, let’s stop here for today.

Sakyo: Good work.

Banri: See ya all in ten minutes for band practice.

Azami: Gotcha.

Director: Must be a little hard practicing every day, huh.

Juza: It’s a live performance, so we gotta practice a lot anyway.

Banri: And this time, because of the way it’s structured, the power of the song affects the whole thing.

Taichi: Man, I’m so hyped for this!

Omi: I’ll make sure to bring you all some dinner later.

Taichi: Thanks!

Azami: By the way, I already discussed the hair and makeup for the roles with Yuki-san…

Azami: He said he would make the band member’s stage costumes as flashy as possible and design them with the key color of red ‘cause of the band’s name and all.

Azami: As for the hair and makeup, only Taichi-san’s hair will be black and subdued for his role, while the other three will be more flashy.

Azami: The problem is the other two.

Sakyo: …

Omi: Us?

Azami: I wanted to make Omi-san look like he works in the industry since he works for a record company, but Yuki-san said that it would be difficult to do with just a costume.

Azami: Does anyone have some kinda idea to get that industry worker feel?

Director: A music industry worker… What would that look like?

Juza: Maybe like tinted glasses or somethin’...?

Taichi: Some kinda fashionable facial hair!

Banri: A jacket that no sorta officer worker would ever wear.

Taichi: With an expensive-looking watch and shoes!

Director: That's so specific!

Banri: Saw a guy like that at the opening the other night.

Director: I see…!

Azami: Gotcha. Noting that all down.

Azami: Biggest problem is Shitty Sakyo, since this time he’s a serious parent who’s against the band and has no persuasive power whatsoever.

Azami: It’s hard ‘cause it seems like he’s still in his rebellious phase himself.

Sakyo: Hah?

Director: Umm… Blond hair does sorta… stand out a lot.

Banri: Yeah, there’s nothing serious or strict about it.

Omi: It is sort of the opposite of a serious worker, Sakyo-san.

Sakyo: …Then how about a black wig to match with Nanao’s?

Taichi: Now that you mention it, I’ve never seen Sakyo-nii with black hair before!

Director: That would be a new one.

Sakyo: If I had a typical job, I would’ve had to have dark hair too.

Taichi: Sakyo-nii with a typical job… Something finance-related… Or the black market?

Omi: Isn’t that the same thing as now?

Director: I’m sure he’d be good with accounting or something…

Banri: I’m sure he’d just reject all the expense receipts.

Juza: Can’t even imagine it.

Sakyo: Shut it. There’s no need to talk about unimportant things like that.

Director: But the change of hair color will definitely give off a different impression, and I’m sure it’ll surprise the Autumn Troupe fans!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taichi: ♪ “Yeah, on the other side of this lousy night, the dawn is waiting for this song” ♪

Director: (Taichi-kun?)

Director: That was pretty enthusiastic.

Taichi: Hehe, you found me.

Taichi: I’ve really gotta be careful not to sing too much and use my throat too much, but…

Taichi: I’m so happy that my words became such a good song all thanks to Ban-chan and the manager that all I wanna do is sing.

Director: It really is a wonderful song, the lyrics especially.

Taichi: The lyrics came to me partly because of that homework you gave us where we had to think about a different future.

Taichi: At the time, I thought about what if I quit acting and went on to college and found a job, and I even had dreams about that…

Taichi: I wondered if there was a parallel universe somewhere out there with a me without red hair living in that future.

Taichi: I’m really happy to be where I am now, but…

Taichi: Maybe the me in the dream, who is just wandering around like that, might find something else to be passionate about or an important friend in that future.

Taichi: I hope that he finds something important that he doesn’t want to let go of, something to take the place of what red is for me.

Taichi: …I’m sure it’s not just a simple matter of which is better or worse.

Director: …I see.

Taichi: That’s why I secretly put a shoutout to myself in the parallel world that’s going his own way in the lyrics.

Taichi: I’m determined to do my best to stay the same for the other me who appeared in my dream.

Taichi: I want to put all these feelings into this performance and do my best.

Director: Mhm. I’m looking forward to your last “now” on stage as a teenager, Taichi-kun.

Director: (Taichi-kun’s face is shining brightly.)

Director: (There are some things he doesn’t want to change forever, and there are some things he never wants to let go of, but Taichi-kun’s heart is definitely changing and growing to be stronger and cooler than ever.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakyo: …

Taichi: It’s black.

Juza: Black, huh.

Banri: Still gettin’ used to it.

Director: It makes you wonder who it is for a split second there, doesn’t it?

Azami: It’s unsettling…

Sakyo: Shut it. Don’t glare at it.

Omi: I’m sure you’ll all get used to it after a while.

Juza: Anyway, you look good and have a strange sense of dignity about ya, Omi-san.

Taichi: You’ve got an aura about you that makes it almost difficult to talk to you!

Omi: Really?

Manager: You’re on in five~!

Director: Are you ready for the last live performance?

Taichi: Yep, all good!

Taichi: I’m nervous for sure, but I can’t forget how great it felt to sing at Rento-san’s live house performance.

Taichi: I wanna sing in front of an audience as soon as possible!

Director: I’m glad to hear that.

Omi: I can’t wait to hear the song sung in the MANKAI theater too. You know?

Sakyo: …Well, I did think it was a good song too.

Taichi: Hehe.

Manager: It’s almost time!

Banri: Let’s form a circle.

Azami: Let’s hear a word from our lead.

Taichi: Umm…

Taichi: I always thought about how the next time I got a lead role for an Autumn Troupe play, I definitely wanted to lead everyone with a better play than Mantou Fist.

Taichi: I wanna do my best so everyone will really feel happy to be on stage with me!

Taichi: So I want you all to follow me!

Banri: Yeah.

Juza: Got it.

Taichi: Autumn Troupe! Let’s go!

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#a3!#a3! translation #banri settsu #juza hyodo #taichi nanao #omi fushimi #sakyo furuichi #azami izumida #isuke matsukawa

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