#and was catching up with my old home supporter who hosts it

[shararan]

Havent been able to leave the house to go back to the gaming night hosted once a week with my program.... where they got genshin...... i wanna play fontaine..... and run around with my faves....

[almondmilkcleanser]

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐃𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝

ask and you shall receive

✥ ` ■ characters / fandom ; f!reader x sesshomaru

✥ ` ■ tw ; n/a

✥ ` ■ word count ; 1k+

✥ ` ■* a/n — sooooo I loved this request so much that I want to make it a mini series because i’ve been watching shoujo romance anime and i’m feeling mushy. enjoy!

masterlist

Spring had begun. You laid alongside the riverbed, watching stray petals of fallen Wisteria cascade down the river. According to the human world, you were 18, and it was time for you to fulfil the familial contract. 

It was agreed upon between your demonic brethren before you were even born that Lord Sesshomaru would be your mate and you were to report to him the Spring of your womanhood. This spring, actually. 

You thought to hell with the contract and to hell with Sesshomaru! He could find his own mate for all you care. You never met him, not once, and to think that you were to just walk up to his castle, declare yourself to be his mate, for him to do as he pleased with you was baffling to you. 

So much, that you decided to hide. It’s been a week now since you left home and your family still has no idea where you are. And thanks to your cunning skills as a fellow demon, it would take a while for them to find you. You ventured across the land to the Wisteria fields, as you did every year, and hid among the garden of purples, pinks, violets, and blues. 

You climbed a nearby tree, your childlike innocence taking hold of you. You wanted to marvel at the flowers up close and personally, off the ground and away from wandering eyes in hopes of a certain someone not catching your scent as the overpowering sweet musk wafted through the breeze and permeated through the fields, masking your scent as the flowers waded in the breeze. 

You wanted to be free as the flowers, not wandering or worrying about anyone else, especially another demon. 

“Feh!” You scoffed, your fist clenching in pride. You were a demon for heaven’s sake! Why couldn’t you choose who you wanted??

 “Screw the traditions!” You exclaimed, spitting at the dirt in your mind. “That demon can choke. He’s probably an ugly old demon anyway.”

“Old you say?”

The anonymous deep voice almost caught you off guard. Looking its direction, you spotted another demon sitting atop what to you looked like the thinnest branch gracefully. A large fur pelt over his shoulder and heavily clad armor decorated across his body. He smelled. . .  Regal? And the markings on his face? Just who the hell was he?

You looked away, feeling his golden eyes glare a hole through your silk skin. If it were one of the romance novels you hid away in your room, this would be the perfect scene that a master artist would plummet tot he Underworld and back just to finish. But you? Now? You could care less. 

“And what is it to you?” He could feel your sarcasm. “if I were you, I’d tread carefully in regards to who you’re talking to.” This amused him. he said nothing but smirk your direction. When you noticed his silence creep up along your neck, you turned your head to meet his gaze again, only to be caught off guard by his immediate proximity to you. 

His eyes, that glare, the markings on his face, the moon on his forehead. He- he didn’t even look of this world! Taken aback, you reached back a little too far to gather your balance, missing the branch altogether and slipping off from its support. It happened in a blink, leaving you to fall midair for seconds until-

“What was it that you were saying? That I should tread carefully when talking to you?” The demon caught you, hosting you bridal style as he cascaded to the ground. With a soft plant of his feet, you both landed softly back to earth, your eyes still carrying apparent shock. 

When you looked around once more, you nearly jumped out of his arms. Crossing them over your chest, you huffed, pointing your nose in the air as you caught wind to his comment. Just who was this man?

“My original statement still stands. And as much as I am grateful for you saving my life. You really didn’t have to.” His eyebrow raised. 

“I am a demon after all. Such a fall would be nothing for me to catch myself from.”

“So, why didn’t you?” your eyes peered his direction for a moment before quickly darting the other direction. Why didn’t you was the question. 

“Enough of that!” you stammered, puffing out your chest while staring his way. “I have to get home. My family is worried about me.” before you could fully pivot on his heel the stranger spoke. 

“Which kingdom do you belong to?” you knew at that moment that you were wandering the forests for too long. The markings on your skin were too eloquent to be ignored by common demons. Only those of higher status’ knew that those that belonged to imperial family bore markings on their neck, shoulders, forearms, and sometimes, even the face. 

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he watched you shield your arms with open disbelief. With a sigh, he snaked his eyes from your feet to your eyes, almost studying you. 

“I’m to be wed to a princess of a kingdom. A family of Imperial florists, you can say. And they actually send me to find her since she fled the castle.” He took a step forward, making you take a step back. 

“I’d hope to assume that you aren’t the one who’s already causing me grief.” You pulled in your lip, careful not to give anything away. With your eyebrows furrowed, you planted a hand on your hip. 

“I’ll have you know that I don’t belong to any family.” you lied. 

“I am a rogue demon, claiming the forests as my home. And it would be wise of you to leave this once.” He smirked at your response, disappearing into mid air in rebuttal. 

“Wha-?” you backed up, only to meet his cold armor pressed into your back. He didn’t say a word, but instead snaked his hand around to the front of your neck. He held your necklace in his large, open palm, revealing the golden imperial crest of a plum blossom. Your family’s insignia.

“Lady Y/N of the East. The Imperial Peony of the East, might I add.”

He smirked to himself, toying with the crest between his clawed fingers. 

“My wife, to be more exact.”

end

NEXT CHAPTER

leave a reply if you want another chapter!

[court-jobi]

When Asking Feels Right

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work/art))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (fem!reader is an active pro-hero)

Words: 3.6K

Rating: T+

Warnings: canon-typical injuries, love confessions, mentions of intimacy, talk of marriage, BIG FEELINGS, light injury aftercare, language, because Katsuki Bakugou knows no other way

Summary:

You know Izuku loves you, and proudly tells anyone within earshot just how much he adores his darling pro-hero. But it's not until a close call that 'Kacchan' convinces you just how much the nerd means it. Making you pull yourself together for the sake of his best friend solidifies the fact that you are the love of Izuku Midoriya's life, and he's damn well sure gonna keep you alive to do something with that information. Bakugou might be barking at you gruff as always as he's trying to keep you conscious, but when he says it like he means it, you pay attention.

A/N: Ok yall's love for Let's Heal Each Other has really surprised me, thank you so much! Here's more of our favorite boy, feat Bakugou in full guard dog mode

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

“OI, WATCH YOUR TEN!”

Forced to the ground hard, you’re dazed– but not totally crushed. 

There’s a host of noise around you that grates on your senses: groans of steel supports, concrete and drywall crumbling in batches around you; it's now just a slow burn of collapsing chaos. But considering this portion of the building just fell apart not three feet from where you were once standing, you consider this a blessing. You’d deal with a sore hip than be dead. 

One thing you didn’t know was who did the saving of your ass, until you try to turn around and another support starts falling off in chunks–

“STAY DOWN, ALREADY–” a firm, hot hand cushions the back of your head from smacking the ground needlessly, but he’s not exactly gentle about it.

Dynamight?.. Bakugou– or ‘Kacchan’ as you hear him called at home– he’s– the one pulling a full body shield on you?

You cough from the debris and your ‘guardian angel’ makes sure to not press down on your back too much so you don’t feel smothered. With a gruff hand, he bats the air around your faces to will the dust away so you both can catch a breath. He hacks right along with you, he’s still human after all– but at least he does so from over your shoulder, a courtesy.

Soon enough, the shifting of earth and rock and damage settles, and Bakugou detaches himself from the kneel over you and lifts you up from under your arms to get you to a sitting position at the only remaining wall he deemed supportive enough.

You are equal parts amazed and confused watching the agency hothead acting like the most dashing hero you’ve ever seen, and you're lowkey shook that this attention is being put on you  when he presses you back and crouches back to your level with a guarded eye. 

"You ok?"

"Nngyeah?"

"You hurtin’?"

"Ouch. Nah, just my head a little-- OOF–”

Bakugou’s looking you over with a hard hand on your jaw, peeling aside your hair not too gracefully with tough, padded gloves, fussing over you with a concerned scowl.

 “-BAKugOU!"

The pieces click together a moment too late: you'd blurted at him right as you realize why he’s looking at you like this, so intently– you're bleeding from the head.

"A fucking head wound isn't a LITTLE PROBLEM, DUMBASS- /Oi, I need a med evac at the old Sorgan hospital! Look for the smoke on the southside, that’s where we fuckin’ are–/ FUCK, he's gonna KILL ME for this!!"

You bawk at the way he looks– nervous.

Your teammate's concerned as most coworkers at your agency would be, but for the chilliest of your pals, he’s looking uncharacteristically wild about it… like he seems inclined to punch you for it if you were only in better shape. Instead, Bakugou just picks you up and sets you on some slanted rubble to get you sitting higher. While your head bobs at a lag, you watch as he’s rummaging in his waistline's pockets for that dry cloth he's supposed to keep better accessible for first aid.

"YOU DAMN IDIOT,” Bakugou gripes not too angrily, “You’re NO BETTER than he is, jumpin’ into shit--HOLD THIS–"

You're starting to worry why he's so mad. It’s not like your quirk can directly correlate to the building falling via explosives; that’s his department. You followed your path to an opening of the building altogether as directed. In the mess of it all, you had to get creative with your exit strategy which did put you at a disadvantage, but it all had worked out even after facing off with the last batch of villains before the entire wing came tumbling down.

You honestly thought he was just being heroic and appreciated him literally keeping you from being crushed- only now as you want to thank him, you're sure it would fall on deaf ears. He must be angry that you were there in the first place for him to have to tend to now.

 "I-- that could have been really bad, I guess-"

"You 'GUESS'?" Bakugou's tone demands that you look him in the eye while he talks to you, right as he's staring you down incredulously, "Yeah, I saved your damn ass from getting CRUSHED, - and it's on MY HEAD if something happens to you while you're on my watch!!"

You feel sarcastic, "Well, thanks a lot, m’sorry for the inconvenience. Wassn’t my fault for the building though…”

He swishes a bit of remaining water on the cloth and jerks your head to the other way, ensuring the other scratches aren’t actively sporting fresh blood. “Tch, well running towards the sound was a pretty DUMBASS move!! Don’t know where you got that from!!”

“I can’think a few heroes who migh’...”

“Yeah, DEAD heroes!!”

Sheesh, nothing will please him when he gets like this. You tried for a last stretch of sympathy behind a pounding headache, “Well, m’sure Deku will appreciate you keepin’ me alive, so m’tryna say thanks."

"Yeah he damn well better, if he doesn’t wreck m- HEH??! SIT. THE HELL. DOWN!!"

At your try to stand up and join him in getting out of the alcove, you squatted back,

"What?!"

Bakugou pushes up his facemask more like a headband so you have no choice but to see him clearly. He smooshes your face in his palms- risky, given he's fully sweaty and the smell would be enough to turn you away-- but the way his hands are shaking forces you to stay still and pay attention.

"YOU are the love of his life, dumbass,” Bakugou threatens seriously. “You're the sparkle in his eye and you are damn good for him, so I'm sure as hell gonna make sure nothing happens to you if I can help it-- and you runnin' around with a concussion ain't making my job easier. So SIT. down."

You don’t blink or breathe.

"-I’m sat."

He fixes you a challenging look, then lets go of you to get a better view of the street to check on the ambulance.

He's protective. Because he's loyal to Izuku, he's loyal to you.

But you’re still stunned on what he said- like it was God’s honest truth and an immovable fact.

Pressing down on the tight space at the base of your sternum, you feel for something past your suit’s seam. "Did he say that?"

"Say what?" Bakugou shouts back tirelessly from the hole he’d opened for ventilation; you imagine he may not be hearing so well after this fight. Despite how cheesy it sounds coming out of you, you clarify with a hand to the gauze up against your head,

"-me being that? For him?"

Bakugou scoffs with a smirk, "Only reminds me every damn day I see him."

You can see it, after all. It happens with enough frequency that you know the two talk even before starting patrol with you. The routine of Midoriya meeting up with Bakugou like how you imagine they did in their school days: your adoring boyfriend sharing news of his curriculum workload in earnest, and retorting to his best friend’s loudmouth brand of bragging about his villain count for the week, followed by turning the tables back to Izuku and asking for the nerd’s professional opinion about his performance- and what he thinks he should be strengthening. 

It makes perfect sense that you should come up in conversations, but to know now that Izuku speaks of you in this way? Past the usual lovey-dovey pleasantries Bakugou usually gags at? It should have made you happy, but given the pulse in your throat and the general ache radiating from your -everywhere-, you sniffle– Your concern weighs you to your seat now that you probably have Izuku worried sick. If he’s glued to the news for televised coverage on missions that he knows you’re working on, he would have seen this whole ordeal in real time. 

And in the entire time you’ve dated Izuku, the whole relationship where you’ve stayed in sync with each other despite working in entirely different fields (namely you remaining in the clearly more dangerous one), Izuku never once discouraged you. 

-Never asked you to scale back or retire for the sake of his fears over you. 

-Never asked you to do anything other than ‘be as safe as you can, and do your best to come back to me’. 

He believes you were a hero- just as you believed he was, too. But God, if it didn’t kill you inside to think of breaking his heart over and over as he sat on his break room couch watching close calls. 

You know had he been here on duty instead of Dynamight, your sweet Deku would have been the one here trying to lift you up and perhaps put your worries at ease getting the chance to help you and see you through to safety. But Katsuki Bakugou is hardly that touchy-feely, so having to come up with a pep talk to yourself is hard.

"Oi-"

You toughen up to look back at him, but get a softer response than before.

"You're gonna be ok. I got your back, didn't I?"

You nod.

"I will, y'know. Have your back. Just don't make it difficult."

You nod again, about to cry.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, shaking it off and catching sight of the blue and red lights before he fully hears them. "You, with the waterworks too? Match made in heaven, I swear to GOD."

That night, you are hardly in any shape to drive yourself home and a bit too unsteady to even wrangle with public transit, so naturally you ask Izuku to come get you. With a faithful grin, he looks incredibly happy to see you in the agency lobby- if distracted momentarily by your expertly wrapped head and script bag in hand.

When you meet downstairs, you reign in your immediate reaction to seeing him like you normally would. It's busy tonight- teeming with interns, a changing out of a few vending machines, and a friendly spat between two other sidekicks is happening not far from the evelator you just stepped from. 

The building’s deceptively cheery security officer sees you coming, and shares to your boyfriend that he is going to put on a podcast, taking a moment to fiddle with putting his earbuds in and ‘conveniently’ switch over to his shades against the setting sun, which allowed you the sneaky propriety to fully hug Izuku, as quick and tight as you could before getting in the car. 

Talk in the car consisted of the usual after missions, which felt familiar and good. Obviously your darling didn’t hide his concern, but between your assurances were legitimate questions about how the villains were apprehended, what he’d watched, and the interest he gave in what the news didn’t cover- like asking more about your civilian recovery efforts and compliments about how many were saved today. This kind of cool down genuinely helped you leave work at work, and you appreciated that so much. It was a short drive, which you spent mostly holding Izuku’s hand in both of yours and receiving little kisses on that hand at stoplights. 

You walked arm in arm with him up to the second landing of your apartment, with him finally running through the more caring questions of ‘does it hurt to climb?’ ‘Throbbing or dull pain?’ ‘Are you hungry, or are the meds making you feel sick?’ 

You knew he’d be clingy and honestly needed that constancy after such an explosive afternoon. He was insistent on taking off your coat and getting your laces off with minimal effort from you, which you adored on any old regular day– but the waterworks came flooding back so hard while watching Izuku on his heels taking care of you that you stopped him altogether.

"-I remember the concussions Denki would have after going too hard with his quirk, too- ���Chargebolt’, I think you’ve met. ‘Course, I think it affected his nervous system more than anything else-- w' h-honey? Are you crying?"

"Please just get up here~"

You hugged him tight the second he rose to full height,

"Oh sweetheart," Izuku petted your hair as you muted your cries, "Sweetheart it's ok, you're ok."

"I love y’so much..." you eeked out from a tight throat.

The eyes unseen over your shoulder stung at your words, but squeezed in just as tight there in the foyer.

"I love you too, honey. So, so much." Izuku kept you close and just rocked you in place to ground you, "Were you scared today?"

You nodded.

"I'm sure it was scary. Would have scared me too, being caught in the middle of all that," Izuku cooed over your shoulder. "Y'know it's okay to let it rattle you sometimes. That's why we're all here to support you. Help you bounce back."

//I have your back// Bakugou’s words hit you again in a wave. 

"It.. would have landed on me. I was right in the impact zone, when the southwest end came down," you sunk into Izuku’s neck at the memory, "...Bakugou got to me first. I wouldn'tve gotten out without him."

Izuku breathed out, touched beyond measure. “...he did?...”

"H'yelled at me for being stupid," you chuckled mirthlessly, "but he said some things. Really big things. And I'm just so sorry it happened at all! I don't wanna worry you when I’m out there!"

As you rushed through the emotions; not just of this fight, but filled to the brim and spilling over with other close calls like it. Izuku had a hard time understanding what was said that upset you, and just held you through it.

"C’mon, let's sit you down," Izuku picked you up like the koala you were and took you over to your couch, sitting with you perched in his arms. 

No longer surprised at the incredible strength he still carried -being able to pick you up like your dead weight was nothing- you sunk into his safety, solace found in his pressed shirt collar.

Your apologies turned into cries within a few minutes of settling in. 

The poor man's heart broke all over again, holding you tightly through your sobs, and hushing you through them. The crying was only going to make your headache worse. He knows this from experience, unfortunately… so even though he usually encouraged you to ‘feel your feelings to the fullest’, he did make an attempt to still you this time. Izuku pressed kisses to your warm forehead.

"Honey, easy, honey... what big things did Kacchan say?" 

//you're his spark//

//you're just like the damn nerd//

//match made in heaven//

//you're damn good for him//

"Tha-That I was... the love of- your life?"

Unseen, Izuku's sights widened. But had you been watching him and not hiding in his complete, cozying embrace, you would have seen the proudest look of love lifting those cheeks of his. How he smiled despite the concern he held for you in this moment, and took a grand look around the room - at the life you were tending to and nurturing together with fondness.

"You are the love of my life," Izuku assured you gently with the sweet coupling of your name, "Have I never told you that?"

Shown, certainly, but never told so beautifully. And to have come from Bakugou’s harsh lips of all people, the revelation was jarring in more ways than one.

You whispered 'no', but didn't let go for the life of you. Wouldn't ever let go of this darling man if he’d allow you to stay.

"-M'ere, look at me. Just for a minute, look here~"

You pressed back from his hold with unwilling muscles, only to be cradled in his hands. Green eyes full of tears looked back at you but with a full, strong smile forcing bravery forward.

"You -my sweetest girl- are the love of my life. I love who you are now, and who you're going to be forty, fifty, sixty years from now,” he pet your hair back and away with a little shaky nod, “and yeah- I might lose my lunch every now and then watching you out there…”

You sniffled again, baffled at how telling you all this could possibly be making him chuckle through his words–

“--but I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve watched the same tv screen and been so insanely proud of you! To watch you go out there and win, and shine, and– I can stomach all that fear. I can do that. Because I know you and I believe in you! And I am so thankful that I happen to know the heroes you do this hard work with can help take care of you and have your back. That’s what it’s all about- doing it together.”

You hang on Izuku’s every word of affirmation. It’s the language he’s best in, no matter the subject. Thankfully, right now, he's set on putting you back on solid heartground- assuring you of everything you doubt about yourself. Your power, your inspiration, all of it.

“You’re saving people- helping those who can't do it themselves, and you do it so well, love. These scary things happen… but honestly? It only makes me love you more for facing it like you do. And getting up the next day, and watching you come at it again.”

You keen under his full attention. The praise and love he’s washing you with is so earnest and filled with pride, it kills you to ever have obligations elsewhere in the world outside of his company.

Surely you can just stay supple in his arms for eternity and no one would miss you. 

“So you don’t need to be out there worried about what I’m thinking of you,” Izuku worked on wiping your blurry tears, “because I’m going to double down on replacing those worries in your head. I’m going to remind you every day of it. You’re never going to not have me in your corner, because you are the love of my life.”

Soothed and emotional in an entirely different vein, you nod you head back with a firm, brave smile of you own, before gingerly pulling him close for a little forehead touch, a well-earned kiss, and another hug latched around his shoulders. 

Izuku tended to you after your hero work in a number of ways, depending on what you've weathered that day: from taking off your shoes, cooking you a meal, holding you soft and sweet against his body on the sofa like this, or even helping you burn off any excess steam on the particular amorous nights where you just feel too alive to not show him exactly what your primary reason for fighting is. 

To protect him. To protect everyone you love and care for. Making your family proud both here and heavenward, and proving to yourself that you can do the hard things. Having a partner to support you in this work is an invaluable bolster in your life, and you feel it in every swipe of his hands up and down your back in this exact moment. 

His touch assures you just as much as it comforts him. Tells you how much you're appreciated and welcomed when you reach the end of the day like it soothes him to have you safely off the streets. You also know that any tear-filled nights on his end come from a place of complete affection and commitment and you don't really care how much Bakugou or any of your other workmates might tease you for being soft right along with ‘the damn nerd’. 

He's your damn nerd. The one you come home to and plan to spend the rest of the evening tending to your headache and scratchy throat and whatever other hurts have trickled out from your tough shell. 

From about your fifth date on, you'd felt in your gut that ‘Midoriya’ was likely going to be the name you'd be filling out as your emergency contact for life, so you started doing so on your contract renewals. That probably proved he was the love of your life, too, even if you didn't say so outright. 

Content to hold you forever, Izuku still asked of you gently, 

“Poor thing, you gotta be exhausted. I know you showered, but would you like a bath to let the steam help?” He kissed your nearby shoulder within reach, “It'll help the drainage go away.”

That sounded amazing and all but guaranteed he'd like to stay as close to you as possible. You hummed in the affirmative, close to bursting. 

“Good. We’ll get that started, whenever you're ready. Anything my brave girl wants.”

There's truly only one thought on your mind- the insistent proof of it lies hidden beneath your sweater neckline, slid onto a long silver necklace:

A ring sized for Izuku is something you've worn every patrol for a couple months now, and is practically burning as you adjust your seat on his lap to find his face. 

You're fishing past your collar uncomfortably, looking for the damn thing tangled with your agency lanyard, but dead set that you can't go on without him wearing it.

“Hm? I'm here, hon’, what do you need?-- what's-… Baby. Oh baby, what's that...?”

You hold the ring still looped on the chain, lifted for him to see between fingers that don't shake anymore. Firm and steady. Because he's loved you so well and so thoroughly tonight and every night, it's the easiest thing to ask the stunned, gorgeous man beneath you,

“Marry me.”

[evermoredeluxe]

How Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour Took Over the Entire World

By Chris Willman

By Alissa Gao for Variety

On the morning that Taylor Swift’s “Eras Tour” is about to begin a three-night stand in Dublin, the older gentleman taking charge of my passport at airport customs has clearly had his fill of Swifties, probably processing them by the hundreds already today. When I reveal myself to be one too — despite being arguably the wrong gender, inarguably old and lacking a telltale “Lover” mascara star over my right eye — his disdain is palpable. Suddenly, I’m getting way more screening questions than anyone not on a watch list should. “What do you like about her?” he sneers, peering up over specs.

This is probably the wrong time for me to point out Swift’s Irish heritage, or to assert that she is this generation’s James Joyce. (The original king of the Easter eggs, right?) I wouldn’t really go that far — I’m only on record as doing my best to certify her as this century’s Beatles. Trying to figure out how to answer him, the past 18 years of extolling Swift in print flash before my eyes. I end up murmuring the bare minimum: “Um, her songwriting.” This seems to disturb him further. He snaps back: “Aren’t they all the same song” — a slight pause, and I know what’s coming next — “about her breakups?” Then, abruptly, he stamps me through, sparing me a detour to Interpol for more grilling.

In the cab into town, the driver is blasting a local talk-radio personality sharing his dismay about the fans of an awful superstar taking over his country. The host reads an email sent in from a hater who says, “A year ago, when tickets went on sale, my partner and I made a reservation to take our kids out of the country this Friday morning. … Thank you for creating a safe space with your show.” I start to wonder if Swift might have met her match at the Cliffs of Moher.

But from my drop-off forward, the next three days are like living in a Swift-topia. The mile and a half to Aviva Stadium each night is like Disneyland when it shuts its doors early for an affinity group. Whether stopping in the pubs or walking through the charming neighborhood of Victorian brick homes adjoining the fancy new stadium, there’s that warm feeling of people who are united by one quality: They are all super in touch with their feelings — or else they wouldn’t be Swift fans. And they all are happy to stop on the street or over pints to talk about poetical expression. (Well, except for the occasional taciturn, invariably straight young male who has signified his supportive-plus-one status by wearing a jersey bearing the name of Swift’s Super Bowl beau, Travis Kelce.)

So it is that I end up chatting with a middle-aged gay man in a sequin-covered shirt whose female companion whispers to me, while he steps away to trade friendship bracelets with a 10-year-old girl and her mum, that Swift’s music just helped him through a difficult breakup. The girl then runs off to trade her homemade bracelets with a pair of high-helmeted Dublin policemen loaded up to their own elbows with friendship swag — unexpected accessories for long arms of the law.

All the stories about American Swifties swarming overseas to catch “The Eras Tour” turn out to be true: You couldn’t swing a neon golf club around here without hitting a Yank. Approximately one out of every five fans I approach is visiting from the States — and the jubilation they’re feeling about the night’s impending concert is compounded by the fact that nearly all of them financed a European vacation and a concert ticket for roughly the same amount they would have paid on a secondary ticketing site for a typical four-figure ticket to one of last year’s predatorily repriced U.S. shows.

Remember the venerable stereotype of the Ugly Americans, brusquely trampling over refined Europeans in their travels? Thanks to Taylor Swift, who has a gift for laying out global welcome mats, this is the summer of the Spangly American.

At the stadium on night one, just down the row from me are a group of millennials from New Jersey, several in glam unitards inspired by the “Lover” or “1989” portions of the career-spanning show and looking like they were costumed by Swift’s own designer, with fake jewel-encrusted microphones to match. I ask how many hours went into perfecting these nearly pro-grade outfits.

“About 80 hours for mine,” says Megan McLaughlin. “Hers probably longer,” she adds, nodding toward one of her sisters, Margo Steinberg. “She knows all the glues and the best gems.” Indeed, confirms Steinberg, “I was working on mine since January. And, yes, I did quit my job to finish it!” She adds, when I ask if she cares to share any secrets to a particularly good look, “You have to use the B-7000 glue.” (A third sister, Amelia McLaughlin, admits she resorted to buying her spangly dress off Etsy — “I was doing a PhD, but I had to match these girls’ enthusiasm” — while a fourth, Carolyn McLaughlin, skipped the glitter and went for a red dress that matches Swift’s from the “I Bet You Think About Me” video.)

Certainly, there is an element of cosplay to many of the fans’ outfits. Some have seen footage of the new segment Swift added to the tour beginning in April 2024 — devoted to her most recent album, the 31-song “Tortured Poets Department” — and have managed to manufacture gowns that look like they’re made of paper and feature lyric excerpts printed on them in script, à la Swift’s custom-made Vivienne Westwood dress. I meet a group of American women who became friends as literature majors in college who have “Tortured Poets”-themed outfits, one duplicating the Westwood dress and the other with handmade printouts of the latest album’s lyrics pinned all over her black dress, as if she were literally pulling pages out of Swift’s playbook.

It’s the devotion to lyrics, even more than glitter, that is most impressive about the bespoke outfits fans have concocted for the occasion. There are scores and scores of Swifties wearing homemade T-shirts — sometimes singular, sometimes matching with a friend, like walking Burma-Shave signs. Some of the messages are obvious, like the dozens of laddies wearing “It’s me, hi, I’m the husband/boyfriend/father, it’s me” shirts. (Bet that seemed really original at one time.) But a lot of them refer to more obscure songs or stanzas, as if every nearby street or stadium loge section is full of human Easter eggs, begging to be unpacked. It’s hard to think of any other superstar in the history of stadium tours who could have inspired as much fan-crafted clothing rooted in the power of words.

Combos of middle-aged mothers and their teen or 20-something daughters abound; some of them have seized on Swift’s mentions of her own mother, Andrea, to come up with their T-shirt ideas. On Lansdowne Road, I talk to a mum whose red-on-black shirt says, “Had to listen to all this drama,” accompanied by a daughter bearing the legend, “And here’s to my mama.” (This is a reference to Swift’s song “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.”)

Later, in a stadium Guinness line, I chat up a pair of thirsty locals, the daughter’s shirt reading “I call my mom, she said …,” with the mom’s shirt completing the thought: “It was for the best.” (Damn it, I had to Google to recall that’s from a “1989” Vault track that came out last year.) I ask the daughter if she had to explain to her mom what she was wearing. “She’s 52,” she replies. “I don’t think she knows.”

Age is really no guarantor of not getting it — the popular #SwiftieOver50 hashtag on X proves that. Although outnumbered, plenty of older people are unaccompanied by a minor, or by anyone who has been a minor in the past 20 years. I approach a middle-aged couple, Jean Sebastian Conley and Natasha Gagne, again bidden by their matching shirts — “Who’s Taylor Swift?” and “Who’s Travis Kelce?” They turn out to be French Canadians who found their 206-euro SRO tickets to be a steal compared with the extravagant resale prices they briefly considered back home after being shut out of the initial on-sale. I ask what attracted them to Swift since, unlike so many others here, they didn’t grow up with her.

“I really fell in love with her with the ‘Folklore’ album,” Conley says, referring to her low-key Grammy-winning album recorded during the early months of the pandemic. “I think different audiences and older audiences found her through that and ‘Evermore’ because they were more singer-songwriter, a little bit rougher indie music, and that’s what we like most. So that’s how I got hooked.” For her part, Gagne says, “I like everything she represents. And when she redid all her masters, that’s where I thought she was a lady boss.”

It’s a reminder that, for however many mini-narratives Swift packs into the three hours and 20 minutes of an “Eras” show, there are really four or five years of backstory that feed into the audience’s shared awareness. When she sings the ominous ballad “My Tears Ricochet,” accompanied by a coven of stone-faced dancers, at least some fans will understand it as a distant reflection of her very public feelings about the men she considers her business bêtes noires, Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta, who bought and sold (respectively) the rights to her first six albums, spawning much vitriol as well as four “Taylor’s Version” rerecorded albums to date.

When the dancers put their grins back on, Swift plays an ebullient excerpt of a very recent “Poets” bonus track, “So High School,” which every person in the crowd will know is inspired by Kelce. There are some breakup songs of recent vintage too — yes, Mr. Customs Man! — like “The Smallest Man in the World,” which may or may not have cost Matty Healy, the 1975 frontman and former Swift paramour, a night of sleep.

The whole tour is themed around not just the newer records but the rerecordings that have made every older album in her catalog feel improbably fresh. It was, quite possibly, the single most baller move in the history of the record industry … and led to the career-retrospective concept for what is already unquestionably the biggest tour in the history of popular music.

Any discussion of the charms of fandom isn’t meant to forestall discussion of “The Eras Tour” as big business. The numbers are fuzzy because Swift’s camp does not release grosses from her shows, unlike nearly every other artist at the stadium or arena level. Even when the tour wraps after 20 months on Dec. 8 in Vancouver, it seems likely those numbers will continue to be guarded with a zeal on par with the government of North Korea’s. Many industry experts believe the gross will approach or even surpass $2 billion.

What is known for certain — even without a confirmation from Swift World — is that she broke the all-time tour-gross figure when she hit the $1 billion mark, whenever exactly that might have been. The two trade publications that specialize in the touring industry have slightly differing estimates: Billboard calculated a cumulative gross of approximately $900 million when she took a break at the end of 2023, figuring that she would crack $1 billion shortly into the tour’s resumption in April, while Pollstar estimated that she had passed $1 billion by the conclusion of last year. Any way you guesstimate it, Swift took less than a year to break the previous record of $939.1 million, which Elton John grossed with his “Farewell Yellow Brick Road” tour across nearly three years of shows.

One source close to the production said early in the “Eras Tour” era that her average gross each night is $14 million. Others believe that is a highly conservative estimate, with a possible total that on at least some nights edges closer to $17 million. One remarkable aspect is that this does not include the revenue from any inflated resale tickets — which, as anyone who has tried to get tickets through Vivid Seats or StubHub knows, mostly have gone for several times their face value. It was little publicized, but Swift had “dynamic pricing” turned off for her ticket sales, possibly to avoid the controversies Bruce Springsteen encountered when the face value on some of his tickets leaped to the four-figure range upon their first sale. Swift left money on the table by not participating in the scalping of her own tickets, which had an average price of around $230 and topped out at $499, excepting VIP packages, which zenithed at $899 — all well short of what some other superstars ask nowadays. Of course, neither Argentina nor anyone at Wembley Stadium ahead of Swift’s opening night performance in June will be crying for her when she’s in reach of $2 billion without the resale inflation … not to mention the hundreds of millions of dollars in merch.

(This is extraordinary also because Swift hasn’t done any press to promote the tour, except for when she was selected as Time Magazine’s Person of the Year in December. But she doesn’t need to — the tour is constantly being celebrated on social media with every outfit change. And it’s also become so huge, it’s featured more A-list sightings than the Oscars, from Julia Roberts to Tom Cruise to Stevie Nicks, who had the surprise song “You’re on Your Own, Kid” dedicated to her in Dublin.)

Benson Boone, whose “Beautiful Things” is the most-streamed song of 2024 in the U.S. and the world, says he felt dwarfed when performing as the opening act at one of Swift’s seven shows at London’s Wembley Stadium. He has forever committed to memory the exact attendance figure he was given for the night: “89,497,” he says. “Just her stage alone is bigger than anything I’ve ever seen — 300 feet of it!” he says. “I took in every moment. It was cool for me to experience another artist’s world and learn from it. I want to work that hard and be the captain of my ship.”

Although it’s maddening to a media that likes official box office reports and can’t get them, it’s easy to see the wisdom in not flaunting those figures if you’re a superstar artist who counts on being seen as relatable. Swift certainly is proud of breaking records — she posted a tweet when “The Tortured Poets Department” spent its first 12 weeks at No. 1 on the album chart, one of only three albums in history to do so. But she’d rather count fan impressions than dollars. By the same token, she doesn’t publicize or confirm acts of generosity that leak out, like the sizable food-bank donations she makes in every city she tours, or the $100,000 bonuses that the tour’s 50 truck drivers reportedly got for Christmas.

An addendum to all this is how the “Eras Tour” film — released last fall, less than halfway through the actual tour — grossed just over $180 million domestically and $261 million globally, beating the records set by Justin Bieber’s concert film in the U.S. and Michael Jackson’s globally. Massive big-screen spoilers only heightened, rather than diminished, resale demand for the shows yet to come on the 152-date tour and helped precipitate the movement among Americans to head overseas, to make up for the supply found sorely lacking at home.

“She is the torchbearer for the live industry,” says Andy Gensler, editor of Pollstar. “It’s nothing we’ve ever seen before, and it’ll be a long time before we see it again. Her timing was exquisite: The pandemic created this yearning and hunger for live entertainment like nothing else in our history, so she couldn’t have picked a better time to go out.” Pollstar called last year a “historic golden age” for touring, as the top 100 global tours collectively surpassed $9 billion — up 46% from 2022 — with Swift obviously contributing a significant chunk of that total. (This year, the trade reports that overall tour attendance is down, with flat grosses, representing a slight reckoning for the live industry that, obviously, isn’t impacting “Eras.”)

“What my partners and I talk a lot about is how it’s one thing to have a big tour in North America. It’s another thing to have an equally big tour wherever you are in the world and to do doubles and triples in these markets,” says Bernie Cahill, an Activist founding partner and manager of acts including the Grateful Dead and the Lumineers. “It’s an anomaly. It’s not normal. And don’t forget, you’re going into what I call asymmetric venues, which are venues that are not really built for music; these are venues that are built for football games or soccer games and can be very challenging to do music. And they get it right every time — Louis Messina [Swift’s tour promoter since her earliest days] and his team are world-class.” But for all that globe-trotting, he notes, “there are some artists that you see do a show and you know they don’t even know what city they’re in. I always feel like Taylor knows exactly where she is. She has a relationship with that city or that market and those fans and she’s connected to them in ways that are very authentic, that you can’t fake.”

The one big snafu in the rollout of “The Eras Tour” occurred in November 2022 when the Ticketmaster system melted down after too many North American dates went on sale at once, causing thousands of fans to experience long delays. The on-sale broke the all-time record for tickets sold in a single day at 2 million, but it also nearly broke the world’s largest ticketing platform. Swift herself was Teflon in this situation, as the blame fell on a ticketing system not capable of handling so much of the Swift-loving world at once. And although most of the problems people have with Ticketmaster are different from what fans faced in the “Eras Tour” debacle — mainly, hidden fees and monopolistic practices — it could have big legislative consequences anyway. Dean Budnick, co-author of “Ticket Masters: The Rise of the Concert Industry and How the Public Got Scalped,” believes that the Swift hullabaloo was the main catalyst for Congress enacting reform. “There’s no question that perhaps there’s gonna be some meaningful change in ticketing as a result of what people experienced with that on-sale.”

That sense Cahill spoke about of the singer making it clear to an audience she knows exactly where she’s at is in full force in Dublin. Swift introduces the “Folklore”/”Evermore” segment by suggesting that she had a spiritual locale in mind when she started writing that more intimate material, locked in during the first part of the pandemic. “It keeps me up at night all year long: Which era is the most Irish?” she half-jokes to the crowd. “I’m gonna make a case for it being ‘Folklore’ … This album’s imaginary world had a whole aesthetic — like I lived in this cabin in a really green, nature-y, moss-covered landscape. You see where I’m going?… Another thing that I think makes it more Irish than the other eras is, ‘Folklore’ was all about storytelling. And I know you hear this a lot, but you guys are naturally gifted storytellers, right?”

Later on, Swift will cement the local connection by playing, as a “secret” surprise acoustic song, “Sweet Nothing.” She doesn’t have to give the crowd any explanation for that: From the first notes, Irish Swifties will immediately recall that the lyrics reference to the coastal town of Wicklow. The real cherry on top of the show for locals at any international Eras Tour stop, though, comes with a customized moment each night during “We Are Never Getting Back Together” when the spotlight is put on backing dancer Kameron Saunders for a couple of seconds, as he blurts out something locally appropriate, and cheeky. One night in Dublin, it’s the Irish catchphrase “the neck of ye!”; on another, he yells out “pog mo thoin,” meaning “kiss my ass!”; the massive, knowing laugh that inside joke gets makes it clear this isn’t entirely an audience of American tourists after all.

But the basic theatrics and emotional currents remain consistent from show to show. If Swift is surprisingly reticent to make her “Eras Tour” numbers public, that may be, in part, her desire to keep the focus primarily on a personal fan connection. Music industry veterans are taken aback by Swift’s ability to be giant and intimate onstage. “She’s a master marketer of herself — and she is not afraid to be vulnerable to her fans,” says Michele Bernstein, who runs a consultancy that works with stars like Drake. Bernstein could almost be quoting the lyrics of “Mastermind,” where Swift describes herself in almost comically omniscient terms, then dives into a bridge about how no one would play with her as a little girl.

People like my guardian of the customs gate may complain about Swift’s songs centering on her romantic splits, but that subject matter magnifies her own insecurities and weaknesses, expressed in genuinely eccentric wordplay, in ways that keep the audience in thrall to someone they perceive as a humble underdog as well as a veritable cage fighter. She could do a $10 billion tour someday and still keep the crowd enraptured by how she measures up to, or rallies to exceed, the smallest man — or men, or Kardashians — in the world.

This plays out in the “Eras” show in all sorts of symbolic ways, like the new segment in the “Tortured Poets” section where she seems to have fainted from the vapors of failed romance. Dancers in tuxedos try to revive her while a swing version of “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” plays over the PA. A pair of women dressed as nurses fit her with what looks like a majorette’s uniform — or, with all its off-white stripes, is it really meant to resemble a straitjacket? The resemblance is probably not coincidental. Swift fans know there’s nothing like a mad woman.

The most exhilarating moment that has been added to the show this year has her gliding down the ramp on a platform, appearing to anyone at floor level like she is levitating like the witch she makes herself out to be in “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” Taylor Swift: She was Agatha all along!

Yes, there is much to unpack. But in Dublin and in every other city where “Eras” has alighted, there is also pure inspiration for those who maybe haven’t always felt like they’ve had a voice, whether it’s her LGBTQ+ fan base or, well, women. It’s a modern transmutation of Beatlemania in which Swift manages to be all four Fabs, and a mirror, as well as object, of that gaze. You don’t have to be a woman to experience the explosion of pure female joy that takes place on a mass scale at an “Eras” gig, but for men, it doesn’t hurt to have a healthy sense of where you might sit on the female spectrum.

Outside Aviva Stadium, two young Londoners have formed their own two-woman straight-gay alliance: One is wearing a shirt with the hand- drawn words “You’re obsessive and crazy,” and the other’s shirt has the phrase “You’re gay,” each with an arrow pointing to the other. This echoes the original lyrics to Swift’s 2006 oldie “Picture to Burn,” which was rerecorded after some were offended by “gay” as a possible teen epithet. “I am obsessive and crazy, and she is gay,” laughs Zoe Gibson, pointing to her friend, India Day. “We want to bring back the original lyrics. We never found them homophobic — we want to reclaim it.” Day adds, “We’ve listened to her since we were 4 years old, so obviously there’s the nostalgia factor. But for me, she speaks on quite a lot of issues like gay rights and feminism, and all of her songs perfectly sum up the experience of being a woman.”

Some of the shirts are apropos for Pride Month. Seeing a boy of no older than 15 or 16 wearing a homemade “But Daddy I Love Him” shirt (the title of a “Tortured Poets” fan favorite), it’s easy to imagine some courage was required to don that apparel. Along the same lines, I spot any number of women making their own statement in shirts with the modified exclamation “But Daddy I Love Her.”

Gay or straight, 6 years old or 60-something, female or just female-allied, the crowd inside gets its sway on early in the show, with the arrival of the gentle, waltz-time “Lover.” It’s not one of the big set-pieces of this nonstop Broadway-style production — the spotlight is just on Swift and her acoustic guitar — but it might be the one where the entire audience feels like it’s at a four-minute campfire. No wicked witchiness here, just winsomeness.

Down on the floor, I’m seeing what amounts to a Taylor Swift mosh pit: gangs of two or three or five young women, ignoring the fact that Swift herself is just yards away from them on the ramp. They’re singing and acting out every last line to each other, as if the superstar isn’t even towering right over them. A waste of their euros? Hardly. Swift will capture their full attention again as the show proceeds, but in the moment, she isn’t just a superstar — she might be the world’s greatest community organizer.

[bad268]

new req idea but Kimi and reader being “she fell first but he fell harder” trope and reader is also a dancer and there can be a part where reader is practicing and one of her friends is prob in the room prob resting or smth and they catch Kimi (he went to visit her) looking at reader with a lovesick gaze like HES SO IN LOVE WITH HER BYE IM A DANCER ALSO SO

You Are The Reason (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Dancer! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (As an ex-dancer, I had fun with this <3) (Also, shoutout to @67-angelofthelordme-67 for the spam, you literally gave me the will to knock out three stories lol)

Warnings: None, but friend’s nickname is Peaches in honor of my actual best friend and no I will not elaborate :) Also, the song referenced is You Are The Reason by Calum Scott

POV: Second Person (You/your/She/her)

W.C. 1389

Summary: The Senior Solo (trademark) that changed it all.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Dancing has always been a passion of yours. For as long as you can remember, you have been dancing. Your parents enrolled you in dance classes at age two, and you have not stopped since. You started competing at age six, and you even won national titles throughout your years. 

Despite your major success in dancing, you always tried your best to maintain relationships with your friends. Dancing was your passion, and it was incredibly time-consuming. You ended up moving to Bologna, Italy when you were about 10 years old, and you met your neighbor, Kimi, who happened to be in a similarly demanding sport.

Anytime that he was home for the weekend, you made sure that you did not have a competition. Since you chose which competitions you competed in and he could not choose his karting races, it just made sense to maintain the friendship.

Well, the friendship eventually blossomed into a relationship, and that relationship, ultimately, played a role in you leaving competitions. Kimi’s karting was ramping up rather quickly, and you were happy with where you were at in your dance career and all of the awards you won. You were more than happy to take a step back if that meant others could also succeed. You have also made the step into the professional world. You were modeling for different dancewear companies, being asked to be on Dancing With The Stars, and you had been in a few auditions where you got the role you wanted. Plus, you started mentoring the minis. Your schedule was jampacked, but it’s not like you were ready to leave the dance community entirely. You just stopped competing every weekend. You also wanted to start supporting Kimi during some weekends, and this step back allowed for that. 

This week, though, Kimi had an F2 race, or training with Mercedes, you’re not entirely sure. You were too excited because your dance company director said they were hosting a showcase, and you were chosen to have a senior solo. When your dance company director pulled you aside to tell you this, you were ecstatic. You already had the song and some of it choreographed since you hoped to at least compete one last time before you graduated out of your age category.  

You could not wait to finish it, so you pulled your friend, Peaches, in to help you choreograph the last few counts. 

“What if you did a jump or turn here? Like use the space,” Peaches chuckled as they paused the music. You two were locked up in the main studio since it was roughly the same size as the stage, and all of the other classes had ended for the day.

“For the instrumental part, I could do a giant circle and have pirouettes and chaines and run through the center at the end for the last couple of 8 counts. Like this,” You responded as she rewinded the song to the climax of the song, and let you test out the moves. You ran up to the mirror as the music slowed back down and you paused for a second, staring into your eyes. “Can I have the room? I want to try something, but I don’t know if it will work and the last thing I need is for you to hold this over my head.”

“Yeah, I’ll be in the hall. I’ll go get us waters first,” Peaches laughed, knowing immediately where you were coming from, so you got up and left you to your devices. Unbeknownst to you, not only was the entire dance company standing outside the room, looking through a couple of small windows, but Kimi was also there, watching in admiration. Peaches looked around at everyone as most of the dance company dispersed to look like they were doing something else, but Kimi stood still. He was mesmerized, so Peaches walked to stand beside him, gently bumping into him before whispering, “Is this what we’re doing? Creepily staring at your girlfriend? I’m in.”

“I am not creepily staring at her,” Kimi tsked in defense, but as the silence grew, he started thinking about it. “Okay, maybe I was, but she’s so captivating. I can see why she’s won so many times.”

“At least you’ve got eyes,” Peaches joked with a small laugh, “Anyway, I’m going to get us water. Don’t make it obvious you’re staring.”

Peaches took off down the hall to one of the storage rooms where they stored water bottles while Kimi sat in silence as he watched you move throughout the room. When it came to the part you were previously working on with Peaches, you kept going on for the last 8 counts. This was the part that you wanted to try alone because if it worked, in theory, it would look beautiful, but if it didn’t, it could look sloppy.

You ran up to the mirror before pausing, taking a couple of exaggerated breaths. You slid down to the floor and did a few slow and sharp floor tricks before getting up, and doing one of your signature moves. Then, for the last few beats, you held yourself together with one arm crossed over your chest, holding your shoulder, and the other across your stomach as you swayed as the song faded out. 

As soon as it ended, you squealed, running over to where your phone was propped up, recording the entire dance. You rewatched it and immediately knew that this was the dance you wanted to be your senior solo. You ran out of the room to show your company director, but you found Kimi standing in the hall, staring blankly into the studio with tears in his eyes. 

“Kimi? Mio amore (My love)?” You said softly as you walked up to stand beside him. “Did you like it?”

That snapped him out of his trance as he turned to you and immediately pulled you into his arms. He hid his face in your neck as a few tears slipped from his eyes as he whispered praises about the dance. When he finally pulled away, he moved his hands to your face as he gave you a passionate kiss. He pulled away but did not let you go as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Ti amo (I love you),” he whispered as he gazed into your eyes.

“You’ve never said that to me before,” You replied in awe as you looked up at him. “I love you too, but this is the first time you said it.”

“What can I say? Seeing you in your element makes me fall harder for you,” He answered with a joking eye-roll. “You’re beautiful, inside and out, and your dance is perfect. The emotion you show when dancing is insane. How do you do that?”

“Do you want to see the dance with the music?” You offered as you pulled back, running your hands from his sides to hold his hands as you pulled him into the studio when he nodded. “Shoes off, and maybe this will help answer your questions.”

He took his shoes off as he took Peaches’s original seat by the computer, and that’s when he was able to see the song choice. You Are The Reason by Calum Scott. It was a song you referenced a lot when talking about Kimi, and he immediately knew he was the inspiration behind the dance.

“Would you mind playing it from the beginning?” You asked as you finished setting up your phone to record and got into your starting position.

You ran through the dance with more emotion than the last time, thanks to Kimi being in the room this time, and Kimi did not think he could have loved the dance any more than he previously did. Every part of the dance fit with the music, and he could not find it within himself to even blink, not wanting to miss even a millisecond of your performance. By the end, he was overwhelmed with love. He ran up behind you and held you against his chest as he looked at you through the mirror.

“If I were a competition judge, I’d say that was a perfect score,” He praised as he left a kiss on your temple before leaning against your shoulder and swaying with you.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter II: A Place Uncharted and Overgrown

playlist | masterlist | pinboard | prev

song(s) for this chapter: Careful by Paramore, 365 by Charli XCX, Hardline by Julien Baker (for half a second)

chapter tags: cocky!kinda mean!fboy!eddie, swearing, drinking, drug (weed) use, implied sexual content | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

taglist @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle send a message/comment to be added!

a/n: whatever is happening right now, don’t worry. it will get worse!

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

—

Your voice is hoarse by the time you pull into your driveway, surely waking the neighbors as your music leaks through your cracked windows, an angry repetition of YOU CAN’T BE TOO CAREFUL ANYMORE… You do, however, remember to crank it down before leaving your car, something future you will be thankful for.

You flick the light of your bare bones apartment on, glaring at the half your things still sitting in boxes. You keep telling yourself you’ll get to those.

Much to your discouragement, you’ve mostly accepted that Hawkins has swallowed you back into its cold and unforgiving bosom, at least for a while.

You’d left for college, obviously. Escaped to New York with a dream of becoming a published poet, a voice of the new generation. And though school was insightful, challenging, and everything you wanted; it was lonely. Art students are pretentious and judgmental, especially if you come from somewhere like Indiana. So you’d kept your head down and finished school alone, only to move back home with a useless degree, in thousands of dollars of debt, and with a brother in prison.

At least now my brother’s home, you think, trying to assuage the shame spiral. Home and as oblivious as ever, inviting Eddie to the bar.

-

You rise late, sunshine leaking into your second floor bedroom, provoking a groan from deep within your tired gut. Eddie’s here, in Hawkins. It’s been years since you’ve seen him, even longer since you’ve spoken. It leaves you with a lot of nagging questions you’re not sure you want the answers to.

You roll over, wrestling with your sheets tangled around your bare legs. You barely remember coming home, having blacked out the night with a red, angry rage that seems to have subsided with the night. You’re calmer now, almost zen.

Almost, until you remember what you’ve promised tonight. Parties aren’t usually of any concern; a few old friends and maybe a couple college kids with nothing better to do, but you dread it all the same. Eddie used to frequent Steve’s house parties to deal, even after you’d stopped speaking to him. Something about being “easy money,” he’d drunkenly explained to you once. You hope it doesn’t mean he’ll pick up the habit again, but you know deep down how naive that is.

-

“What’s the party even for?” You lean over the kitchen island to steal a chip from the bag, and Steve smacks your hand out of the way.

“Who says there has to be a reason for a party?”

“Anyone who wants to keep their house clean, for one.” Robin sneaks in from behind, snatching a handful of potato chips before Steve can catch her. “And I, for one, never agreed to hosting this party.”

“Co-hosting,” Steve reminds her, “and if you must know, it’s a party for Chris.”

“Didn’t we just have one of those?” You groan, and Robin hands you a chip, as if to apologize.

“Yeah, but that was nothin’. No offense, obviously I love your mom and the bar, but, cmon, you know he wants a rager.”

You really can’t argue with that, so you divert. “And you feel responsible to throw him?”

Steve presses his lips together, unable to combat the question. “We’re friends. Plus, it gives Robin an excuse to see Nance.” The last part is barely audible, but both you and Robin catch it, locking eyes, and she blushes. Nancy Wheeler, the Hawkins Girl Next door. Robin’s been pining over her since senior year of high school, with nothing to show for it.

Robin is harder to say no to than Steve. “Ugh, fine. I have one condition if you want me at this party.

Steve crosses his arms. “Bee, I can’t just not invite him.”

You shrug. “Okay, fine. Have a good time, let me know how it goes.” You grab your coat from the rack for emphasis.

“You’re bluffing.”

“You willing to bet on that?”

“What is your thing with him anyway?” Robin asks between munching on her chips, searching your face for a giveaway. “Like, I know he was there when Chris got cuffed, but is it really his fault your brother got caught?”

You’d never told your friends that Eddie had confessed, testified against your brother. Truthfully, you’d figured they’d find out on their own. You didn’t want to sway their opinions, you’d all been in the same friend group. Even now, you can’t bring yourself to explain the whole thing. “It’s a really, really long story that will kill the mood to tell.”

Steve huffs, hands on his hips. “You know I can’t use that to justify not inviting him.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m gonna be pissy all night.”

He cracks a smile. “Whatever keeps you entertained, dork.”

-

Steve leaves you in charge of the music, giggling to yourself as you scroll through his playlist titles: Sad Boy Autumn, Night of Clubbin’, Hot Steve Summer. You land on his Party Rock Anthems, and scroll through what Steve believes to be, according to the playlist description, “The Ultimate House Party Jams.” What a fuckin’ dweeb. The first song to play when you shuffle is 365 by Charli XCX and you can't help but burst into laughter. He’s not wrong, of course, but you can’t even slightly believe that Steve has listened to this song, let alone added it to a playlist.

“Great choice!” A voice, light as a bell, rings from behind you, and you turn to greet its owner only to be met face to face with Chrissy Cunningham. The second to last person you’d expect to know this song.

“Oh, yeah,” You stutter, unsure of how to respond. You wouldn’t call yourself a 365 party girl, especially not right now.

“You here with anyone?” Her ponytail swings as she cocks her head to the side, inspecting you.

“Uh, nah, not really. Chris is my brother, this party’s for him.”

“Oh, yeah! You’re Bee, right?”

“To some,” You laugh nervously, hating to be preceded by your brother’s reputation. “And you’re Chrissy, right? I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Oh, I don’t really. I’m here on a date.”

“Who’s your-“

“Hey, baby.” No. God, no fucking way. Eddie seemingly appears from nowhere, sliding his arm around Chrissy’s waist, hand playfully low on her hip. Suddenly, you’re seething, teeth clenched together and you’re convinced you can feel the beginning of a migraine. “What’s got you talkin’ to the wet blanket? Drink not strong enough?” He eyes you, amused by the way your eye twitches.

“Eddie! Be nice, this is Chris’s sister!”

Eddie scoffs at her, head thrown back. “I know, Princess. Tweety and I go way back.”

“I thought you said your name was Bee?”

You shrug. “It’s one of ‘em. Tweety, however, is not.” Not anymore, but you don’t add that part out loud.

“Whatever. C’mon, let me introduce you to the other, way less sexy Chris.” And without another glance your way, Eddie takes his girl into the backyard.

“Fuckin’ asshole.” You mutter, adding another, much less fun song to the queue.

“Okay, enough moping!” Robin snatches your phone from you just as Julien Baker’s voice starts in, quickly switching it back to Steve’s clubbing playlist. “C’mon, let’s go dance!”

“Only if I can get another drink first.” Your rum and coke is gone, and you’re feeling far too sober to be in the same room as Eddie, let alone his date. The thought sends chills of what you can only assume are disgust up your spine. Poor Chrissy, Eddie must have charmed her into going out with him, how else do you explain that couple? What lies did he tell her to convince her he’s a decent enough guy?

“Hey, stop seething, I can see the foam about to come out of your mouth.” Robin snaps you out of seeing red, handing you a hard cider that you pout at. “I wanted a dirty shirley.”

“And I want you alive in the morning to help me clean this place up. As the host, I win by default.”

You huff dramatically, but take the can anyway. “Can you believe Eddie convinced Chrissy to come here with him?”

Robin only shrugs. “He’s not a bad guy, Beebs. I think deep down, you know that.”

You bite your tongue. It is not your place. Your personal grievances are not your friends’ problems. “Maybe, but they’re so different.”

Robin shrugs. “It was either Chrissy or—“ She cuts herself off abruptly, and when you try to meet her eyes she averts them.

“Or who, Rob?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing, never mind. Hey, look! Your brother’s here!”

You cock an eyebrow at her, but she’s not budging, pointing towards the entryway where your brother is being greeted in all directions. Someone hands him a beer, while another friend sparks a joint before passing it to him. It amazes you how loved your brother is after the hell he raises, and people barely register you exist, let alone that you’re his sister.

“Hey, kiddos!” Chris breaks away from his mob of fans to greet you and Robin, embracing you both in a group hug. Luckily, your brother doesn’t give a shit about how cool the rest of Hawkins thinks you are. He offers a hand out to Steve behind you. “Thank you for putting all this together, man. Means a lot.” Robin opens her mouth to argue, but closes it when Chris looks at her. “And thank you for letting him destroy your place for the night. I’ll help you with the damage in the morning.” He winks at Robin, who gives him the biggest toothy smile possible.

“Chris, man, you comin’ out? We’re playin’ beer pong.” One of Chris’s buddies, Gareth, offers him the tiny plastic ball.

“Oh, fuck yeah, man. But only if you’re on my team, I'm not losing to you and Eds at my own party.”

-

It’s three rounds before Chris and Steve convince you to play, Gareth having tapped out for the night to puke in the bushes. Eddie snickers to his cronies as you approach the table, sliding your windbreaker from your arms. For some reason, the exposure of your skin shuts him up, and you flex your fingers dramatically before plucking the ball from Steve’s hand. “You’re goin’ down, Sweetheart.” Eddie jabs his ringed pointer finger at you, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

He seems to notice his slip up, clearing his throat dramatically. “You gonna play, or what?”

You blink once, twice before nodding, suddenly feeling the effects of your earlier drinks. Have you eaten tonight?

You aim as well as your body allows, managing to sink the ball into the back corner cup. Your friends cheer, high diving each other before each extending a hand to you, and Eddie groans, removing the plastic before downing the cup and removing it from the lineup. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Oh, please!” Robin scolds from beside you. “Ballsy for someone to say after losing two out of the last three.” The small crowd of gathered acquaintances chuckle, earning a weak glare from a very intoxicated Eddie before he sets up his shot, effortlessly dropping the ball into the center cup. You begrudgingly remove it, chugging the lukewarm beer while your friends cheer and boo, all in good fun.

It mostly continues like that, a neck and neck game between your team consisting of you, Chris, and Steve against Eddie, Jeff, and a very giggly Chrissy. By the end, the backyard is on a tilted axis, and only one cup remains in front of either team.

“You ready to tap yet?” Eddie taunts, though he’s been leaning over the table for the last couple rounds, arms bracing him from falling to the ground.

“You wish, Munson.” And you let it fly, but your face falls when you realize you’d been too cocky, too soon. It bounces higher than you’d anticipated, sailing right over the cup and onto the ground, everyone’s eyes glued to it. “Fuck.” Robin snickers and you snap your head to glare at her. “Thank you for that vote of confidence.” You sneer, and she stifles another giggle fit.

“This is it, honey, for all the marbles.” You think he’s talking to Chrissy until he winks directly at you, the corner of his mouth pinching into a smirk. You look from him to his date to find her pouting, eyebrows scrunched together and arms crossed. You raise an eyebrow, unsure how to reassure the former cheerleader.

While you’re not looking, Eddie sinks the ball. Which, let’s be honest, you knew that was coming. You roll your eyes and lift the piss flavored drink to your lips, chugging with an open throat to avoid tasting it. Your friends and brother cheer you on, and when you slam the solo cup onto the table, you let out a massive belch. Eddie’s grin has split into a toothy beam, eyes wide with wonder, penetrating your very soul. Fuckin’ weirdo.

-

When your dizziness has subsided, you find Robin on the makeshift dance floor, a drink dangerously spilling over in her hand. “Hey, grouchy!” She calls you over, beckoning with her dance moves. You play along, pretending to be roped in by her lasso. “What’s got you all frowny now?”

You shrug, shaking your hips to a song you can’t place, trying to enjoy your buzz now that you’re not seeing double. “Guess I’m taking beer pong too seriously.”

Robin snorts. “Please, when have you ever given a shit about stupid drinking games?”

“I guess since Chris is home. Wanted to impress him.” Robin eyes you, biting her lip. “What?” You pry, and when she doesn’t answer, poke her in the ribs. “Cmon, spit it out.”

“I don’t think it was Chris you were trying to impress.” She winces, awaiting an outburst that doesn’t come. Instead, you reply with a monotone “Excuse me?”

She smiles tensely, all teeth and gums. “Sorry, I call em like I see em.” Robin’s eyes slide past you, landing over your shoulder. When you snap your head to find what she’s looking at, your eyes fall on Eddie, a beer forgotten in his hand as he whispers in Chrissy’s ear. He must be hilarious, because she can’t stop fucking laughing.

“Oh, you can’t be serious. You think I'm worried about what Munson has to say about me?”

She refocuses on your face, brows furrowed. “Maybe not what he has to say, but definitely what he thinks.” You gape at her, unable to respond with something clever. She only pats your shoulder. “It’s alright, you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

-

“Okay, everyone out. You don’t have to go home, but ya can’t stay here.” Steve is waving people out the door, thanking them for destroying his and Robin’s apartment with a tired smile on his face. Finally, shuts the door. “That everyone?”

“Uh, no. We have some stragglers.”

Steve looks around the main room, then the kitchen. “Where?”

Robin juts her thumb to Steve’s bedroom. “Sorry, man.” You stifle a giggle with a cough, throwing another beer can into the recycling bin.

“Every damn time!” Steve stomps up to the door and starts banging. “Hey, party’s over. Put your pants back on!” He throws his bedroom door open, and you and Robin peer over his shoulders like nosy children.

“Whoa!” The larger figure scrambles, throwing the duvet over their head, while the smaller one shrieks, covering her face as Steve flicks the light on.

“Oh, come on. Eddie?”

“Hi, Stevie.” He slowly emerges from the blanket. “Funny running into you here.”

“It’s my room, idiot! Get out!”

“Okay, okay! Shit, I thought you wanted my help cleaning this shithole tomorrow!”

Steve huffs. “Doesn’t mean you can occupy my room and soil my sheets like this.”

Eddie gasps in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m very clean, just had all my shots.” Steve only glares, but he gets the message across. “Okay! Damn. Sorry, Chrissy. I’ll call you, yeah?”

The girl rolls her eyes, face still cherry red. “Whatever, Eddie.” She snatches her shirt off the ground, and Steve turns to give her privacy. “Sorry, Steve. He said it was okay.” She avoids your eyes as she leaves, Eddie waving goofily behind her. Something in your chest hurts, and you chock it up to rage.

“You want sloppy seconds, Bee?”

You ignore him, and make your way back to the kitchen to rage clean. Over your shoulder, you hear your brother exclaims something, but you can’t make it out.

-

[jiraisupportgroup]

is it okay to be jirai kei if you can't afford the clothes and your parents won't buy them for you does that make you a fake jirai?

♡ short answer ♡

Jirai kei isn’t about the clothes themselves; it’s a community based in accepting & de-stigmatizing mental illness / mental health struggles.

♡ absolutely unreasonably long answer ♡

(Disclaimer: I am not Japanese nor do I speak Japanese. All of this is what I’ve gathered from other people on the internet in my own research when I was first looking into jirai-kei. I could very well be wrong or just talking out of my ass here - I would take my word with a grain of salt.)

Jirai Kei was loosely formed in 2019-2020. It is primarily based out of Kabukicho which is generally considered the red light district Japan, although the Japanese government is trying to change this.

Kabukicho used to be mostly known for soaplands & host clubs & bars & concept cafes - generally more adult or night-life activities. It still is home to these kinds of places, but before the Olympic Games held in 2021, the Japanese government wanted to clean it up and make the area more presentable to foreigners. Starting around 2017-2018 (from what I can tell) they started adding things like movie theaters, bowling alleys, just overall more general-audience attractions to the area to try and make it more consumable. This did start changing the image of the area; it was now seen more as a cool place to hang out - especially for those who were old enough to participate in the host clubs etc. The downside of this is that although it was seen as a cooler area to hang out & it’s image was more positive - there were still plenty of adult or night-life centered things there & many “catch-guys”. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing, but it did kind of make a perfect storm.

Since Kabukicho was starting to be seen more as a cool hang-out spot, a lot more younger teenagers started wanting to go there. And especially once the pandemic hit and most places were closed down (while many establishments in Kabukicho chose to stay open) the sentiment of “I hate where I am right now, my life here sucks, I want to go to Kabukicho where things seem like fun” got even stronger.

This led to an influx of runaway teenagers going to Kabukicho. Additionally, a lot of runaways in Kabukicho were very fed up with their living situations (hence, why they chose to run away in the first place) and mental health during the pandemic was not great anyway since there was a pandemic going on obviously that’s going to negatively affect people’s mental health. Even further: in 2022, Japan lowered the age of adulthood from 20 to 18, so even more & younger people could participate in the nightlife scene. Again, not necessarily a bad thing; however, it meant a lot of the runaways going to Kabukicho with little money, poor mental health, and generally not knowing what they want to do with their lives were now surrounded by catch guys & night-life workers. Night-life workers make a lot of money. A lot of these kids needed money to support themselves, especially if they didn’t want to go back to their hometowns.

Now, am I saying all adult work is bad or all jirai’s were adult workers - no absolutely not. However, this environment is what kind of started the ball rolling.

Alright so we have set the scene now wtf is jirai kei.

Jirai kei stems directly from the derogatory term “jirai onna” literal translation “landmine woman”. This is a term pretty much used to say “that woman is going to pop off” (like a landmine) & was leveled towards any woman with mood swings, intense emotions, poor coping mechanisms, etc. Keeping in mind that Japan does not have a great medical or social infrastructure for dealing with mental health - and that many people’s mental health was greatly impacted by the pandemic - it is not surprising that a lot of people were in this position. In western circles I’ve seen people tie this really heavily to BPD specifically - but the term isn’t specific to bpd - it’s really anyone who has an emotional outburst, or that the people using the term derogatorily think would have one.

So a lot of people decided to reclaim this term & spin it to be their own thing. Kind of saying “yeah, so what? I am a landmine. My mental struggles are real. They are my reality. And if you don’t like that or think that’s ‘wrong’ fuck you. I’m not going to sugarcoat myself for your comfort”. Additionally the idea was also used as push-back for the societal views around mental illness. They’re pretty much signaling “being mentally ill or facing mental struggles does not mean we are bad people, it does not mean we don’t deserve love, and we should not have to hide our mental struggles or go through these things on our own”.

So if it’s a subculture based around accepting and fighting for mental health, where does the fashion come in?

Most of the fashion you’ll see in jirai kei tags are girly kei, dark girly, ryousangata (loose translation: mass production), or extensions of larme kei (another Japanese fashion which is really similar to girly kei but slightly different). Why is that?

These fashions are generally mass produced & easily available in Japan. Think about Liz Lisa and MA*RS for example. These are BIG brands. They’re not niche or hard to find. Additionally, the style is very popular. Ryousangata is considered SO mass produced that “everyone looks the same” (it’s actually quite popular amongst fans of boy groups). It’s not like a strange or niche or overly special style in Japan.

Especially not in Kabukicho, a lot of people working at concept cafes & the like would wear these types of styles because they’re easy to get, easy to style, and super overly adorable. The fashion also works GREAT for runaways in Kabukicho. They’re capsule wardrobes you can make like 10 outfits with 5 pieces of clothing so it works really well if you’re living out of a suitcase. Also it’s a pretty inexpensive, easy to obtain & super cute so it’s very appealing to these teenagers.

From what I can tell these fashions were most popular in Kabukicho and spread out from there, which is why you’ll see a lot of people say that if you’re dressing in these styles people will assume you work at a con cafe or other night-life-adjacent work, but the style has gotten much more popular over 2023-2024 so this doesn’t seem to necessarily be the case anymore.

However, since these styles were associated (albeit not exclusively) with Kabukicho & con cafés, etc, and because a lot of people in this area were drained from types of jobs or runaways & living in a culture where they’re told they should not talk about or show their negative emotions - the term “jirai onna” would be used against many people in these fashions.

Now, again, this term was not exclusively used for everyone dressed in this style, and not everyone dressed in these styles was considered that, but the link is definitely there. Jirai Kei is not completely removed from dark girly or ryousangata, but it is definitely more nuanced than “jirai kei is dark girly+”, that’s just not the case. Especially now that jirai subcul is much more popular - and a lot of the fashions you’ll see in jirai subcultures are barely girly kei / dark girly / ryousangata, if at all. I’ve seen jirai subcul people wearing just t-shirts and shorts.

However; especially in western societies, a lot of people falsely associate jirai kei with dark girly WAY too heavily. My best guess is because we don’t see ryousangata regularly. A lot of people have only seen the style in a “jirai kei” context. They are related to each other, jirai kei does have links to dark girly, but the fashion style itself is not necessarily “jirai kei”. It’s a common style in Japan - it’s not a common style in other parts of the world - so people mashed the two together in one concept because they don’t know otherwise.

This is where a LOT of discourse in the Jirai Kei community stems from - I’m not going to go too deep into it because everyone gets extremely mad about it & im not trying to open that can of worms and spill it all over the table.

I’m sure you’ve seen posts mentioning “fashion landmines” and “lifestyle landmines”. “Fashion landmines” being people who just like dark girly or ryousangata and mistakenly identify the fashion itself as “jirai kei”, and “lifestyle landmines” being people who hold to the values of accepting and raising awareness of mental illness / struggles that was the movement which started the reclamation of the term “jirai onna” to begin with.

Tldr they don’t like each other and people get really mean about it.

All of this being said: Essentially, yes. Dark girly and ryousangata and girly kei are related to Jirai Kei, but no, you do not have to have the clothes to be a part of the community. The clothes are secondary (and honestly optional) to the community’s values.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk lmao

[overalls4all]

"Dude, are you still not in uniform?" Kevin, on the far-right, said to his friend Colin, the only man in the friend group not wearing red coveralls.

"I told you man. I'm not into that uniform stuff," Colin replied, not the first time defending his choices among his friends.

Kevin and the others had recently started following a rightwing influencer who was quickly becoming popular among young men. The influencer was known for his red coveralls, which he explained represented his pride in conservative beliefs and traditional masculine values. Coveralls, to him, were the uniform of a real man. It wasn't long before he started encouraging his followers to don the coveralls too, which the increasing popular red uniform available for sale on his website.

Colin wasn't quite as onboard when his friends starting watching the streams and parroting the talking points. He had to admit that some of their points were interesting, but he always considered himself a bit more liberal.

"Just keep watching the streams bro," his friend Chase added, standing proud in his coveralls.

"And you gotta read the chat, man. You gotta see that millions of men around the world are in on this movement," added Max, adjusting his glasses as he straightened his uniform.

"And don't forget to podcast too. So many interesting guests talking about fitness and politics too," Kevin was quick to say.

"Ok, I'll try to listen more, if you guys say it's so great," Colin said, somewhat disingenuously so his friends would leave him alone. It was hard to really defend his beliefs when the rest put up such a united front. It must be those uniforms, Colin thought to himself. He had to admit, his friends looked pretty striking in them, and he was a bit jealous of their stronger bond since they suited up.

The rest of night went as usual with only a few jokes calling Colin a "sissy liberal" or "not a real man". Colin took it all on the chin, but he secretly wished they would stop. As he drove home, he decided to actually listen to that podcast. The guest was a conservative commentator who made a lot of good points about the degradation of the country and its men. Colin was ashamed to say he fit the bill of what the host called "a fallen man". Colin wanted to be a real man like his friends.

Once he got home, he noticed the host was having a lifestream at the moment. He was watching conservative speeches and cheering on every point. The chat was exploding with other men voicing their support. The host, clad in his uniform coveralls, made sure to thank his supporters for being real men. Colin couldn't help but be drawn to the man's charisma and strength. Even under his coveralls, Colin could tell the man was ripped. He keep his hair short and clean-cut, with just a well-groomed mustache to highlight his manliness. Colin found himself smiling and fist-bumping every time he roared his approval for a rightwing revolution.

At one point, Colin's finger found their way to his keyboard as he typed in the chat, "I'm ready to be a REAL MAN!!!". He hit enter before he even realized what he wrote.

The streamer saw the message and replied on stream, "Looks like we got a new brother tonight bros! Let's welcome him to the right side of history!" And immediately the chat was filled with support and loving messages, congratulating Colin for embracing conservatism.

"And this message goes out to all of my bros, old and new: If you want to look like a real man, you gotta wear our uniform coveralls like me," the streamer pointed to his own coveralls. "Head to my website in the description and get yourself a pair. Actually get a few pairs cuz you're gonna be wearing these everyday."

Colin thought of his friends, already rocking the red coveralls. He couldn't wait to see the look on their faces when he showed up to hang next time in the same uniform. He went straight to the website and ordered three pairs of the coveralls. He spent the rest of the night catching up on past streams and old podcast episodes, engrossing himself in the conservative truths he hd been ignoring. In a few days, his red coveralls would come and he would be a real man. Colin was ready for real change.

[matthewswifeyx]

Quiet~ <3

Y/N's POV

Me and Matt had attended a friends birthday party, it was going so well. There were so many of my old friends there and I got to catch up with most of them. Time was getting on and a few of my friends had left as they claimed that the atmosphere was 'too much'. I didn't have a problem with that. I preferred staying until the party was over so I could stay with my friend who was the host, just to make sure she was doing ok at the end of the party before I would leave.

The scent of sweat and alcohol was in the air as there were many drunk people dancing. "At least they are having fun." I think to myself. Matt was stuck to my hip the whole night, his brothers didn't want to come and none of his friends were here. So it was me, Matt and my friends for most of the night. It seemed like Matt was doing just fine.

I had a couple drinks tonight, but not too much to make myself tip over the edge. So I was a bit tipsy.

MATT's POV

I thought I would be hating this party but it's actually not the worst I have been too. I couldn't hate it if I saw Y/N having fun. She looked so beautiful and giddy when talking to her close friends. How could I not enjoy myself?

The music was blasting and she looked like she was having a good time. I wasn't drinking as I would be driving back to our house.

My eyes were glues to Y/N all night, she wore this pretty royal blue dress that really makes her luscious brown locks pop out. She had put a bit more makeup on than she usually does, I said that she didn't need it but she insisted. Honestly, in a room of the most beautiful girls ever to walk the earth, I would always find my way to Y/N. I'm not lying when I do say she is the most gorgeous girl I have ever seen, makeup or not makeup.

I was sitting in the kitchen and my eyes find Y/N, she was dancing. How could she dance so effortlessly?

Y/N's POV

I was dancing with all of my friends, but I suddenly became very disorientated. I stumbled away from the dance floor to try grab onto a table or something to help myself stand up. I try to find anything, anyone to hold onto for my own sake. I suddenly feel a pair of arms sneak around my waist and helps me posture myself.

"Are you okay pretty?"

It's Matt. Thank god it's Matt.

"I need to sit down." I look up at him and say.

I am slowly guided to a bedroom upstairs. Matt opens the door and sits me down on the bed. He turns the lights on but I hiss at the strobe lighting and he turns them back off.

"Don't you reckon you have had a bit too much to drink tonight?" Matt questions.

"No, I haven't even had that much. I just got a bit tired from dancing and my vision went a bit blurry. That's all." I answer.

"Do you want to go home?"

"I don't know. I don't want to leave F/N. I told her I would stay until it's over."

"God Y/N, do you ever think about yourself ever?"

I start feeling a bit emotional. Matt notices.

"Oh Y/N, i didn't mean it in a bad way. It's just you always put others first before you do yourself. In these situations you have to put yourself first."

I stay silent. I rub my tears away before they drop onto my face.

"I think you just need to be in a quiet place for now."

Matt lays me down onto the bed and he does the same. He hugs me from behind and presses calming circles onto my back.

"Quiet." I whisper.

I relax into Matt's arms and close my eyes.

MATT's POV

I feel Y/N relax into my arms and her breathing grow heavy. I look over to her face. She is asleep. I kiss the top of her head and sit up. I wait a few minutes to figure out if I should let her sleep or wake her up to go home.

A little bit later I go to pick Y/N up, my arm scoop under her legs and my other arm supporting her back. Bridal style. I make my way back to the party and walk to the front door. "Please don't wake up." I think.

I reach outside and realise that Y/N's body is covered in goosebumps, I quickly make my way to the car and unlock it. I open the door and carefully place Y/N into the passenger seat, I kiss her head again and make my way to the driver's seat.

I turn on the car and the music from the radio blasts. I see Y/N startled out of her sleep.

"Quiet." She mumbles.

I laugh quietly, turn off the radio and put a stray hair behind her ear. God I love her so much.

Hey guys! I hope you really liked this fanfic. If you have any suggestions just drop me a message and i'll try to respond asap! <3

[ethereance]

In the mood for some secret relationship allurance.

When they get together after some intervention from the mice—the tiniest wingmen you ever did see—they don’t even mean to keep it secret, they just. Don’t make a big deal about it. Because this is a them thing, and they’re content with that. They’re not even very secret about it and it’s a wonder no one catches them kissing in the castle halls. But Lance is his normal enamoured-with-Allura self, dating her has not changed that, and they’ve been subtly gravitating towards each other since long before they made things official. So them continuously opting to sit next to each other, hands intertwining beneath the table, slipping into each other’s room at night for face masks, it all goes unnoticed. Except by Coran because Lance let it slip when he came to him asking about ideas for a meaningful ‘month-aversary’ gift. It had taken a moment for protective father mode to disengage, and a few words from Allura, but Coran is pretty supportive (and Coran maaay have a soft spot for Lance out of all of the paladins, not that he’s picking favourites or anything).

So here they are. At some fancy ball-like event to improve diplomatic relations, each of the paladins dressed in whatever altean formalwear Coran and Allura could pull up out of the castle ship’s storage. Even with several washes, the outfits are still a bit musty smelling, but are otherwise in pretty good condition for 10,000 decaphoeb old clothes (both the material, and the airtight storage helping with that). And Allura is starting to believe this was a terrible, terrible, terrible idea, oh so incredibly distracted by Lance in altean formalwear. Maybe he doesn’t have the ears, but it suits him well, blue quite simply his colour. In fact, she’s starting to wonder what she even found hideous about his ears when first they met.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to her, something shy in his smile. He looks at her with the utmost adoration, such an open expression that sends a cosy wave of warmth through her heart. Allura never wants to lose this feeling, never wants to lose him.

She hopes, this once, the universe will be kind.

“So do you,” she whispers back, watching as red begins to lightly dust his cheeks, his eyes widening.

“You think I—” He grins, boyish and giddy. “Holy crow. Sweet. Think I can keep the suit when this is all over?”

Again, a terrible, terrible, terrible idea. And yet. “Well I hardly see this being our last event.”

They spend the vast majority of the night away from each other, never far, but always caught up in conversation with the people of Cobraqua—their reptilian-skinned hosts for this evening—many curious about the exploits of Voltron, and some, more well versed in diplomacy, wanting to know what being a part of the coalition would mean for their home. Though he clearly hasn’t had the thousands of lessons of etiquette that have been drilled into Allura’s brain through the castle’s somewhat violent projections, Lance has always been good with people. An event like this brings that out in him.

So good, in fact, that the Cobraquelien Prince Bokar decides to make an announcement in the midst of the festivities.

“Father,” he says, directed at the planet’s king. “I believe it is in our best interest to accept their offer and join the coalition.”

And for that, Allura is thankful. The next part, less so.

“And you, paladins. Allow me to thank you for protecting our planet with the most prestigious gift my people can offer. If I may.”

He motions to one of the service staff who presses a small, black box into his hand. The prince clicks it open, revealing what from this distance appears to be some kind of ornamental trinket, a blue sapphire sitting at its centre.

“Blue paladin, I extend my hand to you, and ask that we bind our lives together with a romantic union.”

Now, it’s not like Allura is unfamiliar with being proposed to, once a princess of a planet of diplomats. A future throne to a planet with that much influence was enticing to many, despite it being common knowledge those of her lineage often found partnership with other alteans, and so it wasn’t unknown for nobles to nudge suitors her way during visits with her father. Often, she was left unimpressed, none of them matching up to the prince—or princess—her inner romantic heart had envisioned, captivated by the idea of a love so true, so magical, she’d fall for them the moment they met eyes.

But, just like her mother, she had fallen for someone who wasn’t a prince at all. Not even close.

No love at first sight.

Just Lance being Lance, growing into a person she can trust with her life, who’s so genuine with his faith in her that she knows he feels the same.

And somehow, despite such grandeur fantasies of love, what her and Lance have rests so dearly in her chest she would never have it any other way.

(One quintant, she thinks. One quintant she’ll be the one doing the proposing, when the war is won, and their future assured.

And maybe this can end better than any dream).

So, no. It’s not that Allura is unfamiliar with being proposed to, back then and even now, still, with Lotor having tried talking her into a union of them both.

But this other prince springs this upon her so suddenly, no lead up, that it comes as a shock, putting a dent in her diplomatic persona for just enough time that Lance reacts first, coming to stand defensively at her side like a paladin in shining armour. A very jealous paladin in shining armour.

As if he has anything to worry about.

“Woah, woah! Nu-uh buddy. You can’t marry Allura!”

Off to the side, she hears Pidge snickering. “Oh here we go again.”

“Seconded!” declares Coran, popping up out of absolutely nowhere to stand next to Lance. “As the Princess’ primary guardian, I object! I object I say! … Not that I mean any disrespect to you, Prince Bokar, but I can’t hand Allura over to someone without any notarised certificates of commendation,” Coran pauses, and looks at the prince with renewed interest. “Actually, as a prince, do you have any certificates?”

“Coran,” says Allura in time with a similar protest from Lance.

“Yes, right! Sorry. I just thought it was worth an ask.” And to the prince, Coran says, “Not that it would matter if you did, of course. I cannot in good conscience approve when the princess is already being courted.”

“She is?” asks Shiro. He turns to her. “Is this true, Princess?”

“Yes that’s… correct,” Allura says, realising that this is the first time the matter of her and Lance’s relationship has been brought up in front of the other paladins. “I apologise, Prince Bokar, but I will have to decline your proposal.”

“I knew it!” she hears Hunk say to Pidge, “Her and Lotor really are a thing!”

Allura inwardly winces at the name. She knows they must keep a working relationship with Prince Lotor, but they’ll never become anything more than that. There’s something about the way he speaks, almost as if it’s exactly what you want to hear, charmed words a distraction from his real goal. She may have had a passing attraction, but was all there was to it.

“That’s not…” she tries, only to catch sight of Lance and his pouting face. Allura stifles a laugh.

“I believe there has been a misunderstanding,” says Bokar, this baffled look on his face as he stares Lance up and down. “You’re in blue. Are you not the blue paladin?”

Oh?

Oh?

Lance blinks, his face going blank. He opens his mouth as if to speak, and leaves it like that, speechless, as if trying to catch a Jartulio fly in there, only nothing is caught, and nothing is said. After some pause, he tries again to find his voice, managing a pitchy, “Huh?”

“Hold on, hold on,” says Hunk, stepping forwards from the buffet table in which he and Pidge had been snacking from, their eyes darting back and forth as if watching a live dramatisation of a play. There’s this amused sparkle in his eyes, like he’d full on guffaw if this weren’t a professional setting. “So what you're saying is you want to marry Lance?”

“Yes, I find his company to be delightful. Even if he’s not the blue paladin, red is such dashing colour for a dashing man,” says the prince, taking Lance’s hand in his own to press a kiss to it. If it had been Allura preforming the action, she knows Lance would be a flustered red mess right now. As it is, he isn’t, though there does in fact seem to be a slight trace of red on his cheeks. “Please, paladin Lance, consider my offer.”

“As generous as your offer is, he cannot accept,” says Allura with as much professionalism as she can muster. She’s glad others are able to recognise Lance’s good qualities as she has, but it’s best they shoot down this man’s attempts as courting Lance as soon as.

“Yeah,” agrees Pidge wholeheartedly. “You’re really not his type. I’ve only ever seen him try and flirt with girls before and—”

“Uh, Pidge…” says Hunk, elbowing her in the side. She casts him a quizzical look and Hunk starts whispering in her ear. Nothing that Allura can pick up, even with heightened hearing. A crowded room like this is full of all sorts of muttering.

“Look, I’m really flattered, okay? I am,” says Lance, scratching his neck. He gives the prince an oddly bashful—yet endearing—smile. “It’s not everyday a prince gets charmed by my… me. But I’m going to have to say no. Sorry. And it’s nothing to do with you being a guy or anything, I mean, that’s fine. But I’ve already promised myself to this incredible woman and I really, really want this to work between us. Soooo… we’re cool right? This won’t affect the alliance… will it?”

Two rejections in a row has the prince looking out of sorts. There’s something to his smile, tight, pinched, that makes Allura believe that was less of a proposal and more of a demand.

“You could take us both,” insists Bokar, trying once more. Unsuccessfully, of course, as Lance uncomfortably shifts on his feet, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here right now.

“Yeah, uh, we’re good.”

“No, I insist,” presses the prince, forgoing any pleasantries. The crowd around them starts muttering even louder, noises of disapproval directed at Bokar. “You can’t refuse a proposal from a prince! I’m me!”

“He said no,” says Allura, sharp, her glare even sharper. She notices Coran is giving him a similar expression, a rare sight indeed.

“But—”

“Enough Bokar,” comes a booming voice, sending an invisible tremor throughout the people in the crowd, guests jumping in their skin. “You cannot treat our guests this way.”

“But father, you said I could have anything I wanted,” protests Bokar, now less charming, more whiny brat. “And I want a lion! He’ll give me his lion.”

The way Lance deflates at that has Allura making mental note to shower him with love and appreciation once this is all done. Right now, she has half the mind to fling this spoiled prince across with room, consequences to the coalition be damned.

“No way man,” says Lance. “I’ve been here before and it involves being tied to a tree.”

Oh how could they forget.

“Your majesty,” says Shiro, addressing the king. “If this is the condition for joining the coalition, we won’t be able to accept. This isn’t right.”

“Hmm, yes. I apologise for my son,” says the king, another glare directed at Bokar. “Worry not, I have every intention to join the coalition. As for Bokar, he has a little more growing up to do before I marry him off, so it seems.”

***

“Eugh. What a jerk,” says Pidge over the lions’ comms. “He could not take no for an answer.”

“Indeed,” agrees Allura. She has absolutely no time for people like that.

“Yeah! I mean, he basically forced Lance into making up a girlfriend to get him to back off,” says Hunk. He narrows his eyes. “… You did make up a girlfriend right? I would know if my best friend was dating someone, wouldn’t I? Are you dating someone? Is it that alien from that planet of mermaids? Did she give you her number?”

A guilty wince. “Well…” Lance says, trailing off.

“No way,” says Pidge, no lack of disbelief.

“Oh my gosh! Lance, Lance,” says Hunk, a flurry of delight. “You’ve gotta spill the beans. First Allura, now you? When did this even happen? I mean, there’s just so much to tell Keith now! Usually all our blade phone calls are like ‘I found some new spices that don’t melt your insides’. And ‘we fought more galra.’ But now this. I mean, talk about a coincidence.”

“Err, about that,” Lance tries again. “See, there’s a reason for that. I was talking about Allura. We’re dating each other. Surprise?”

And with a flourish of his hands, the secret is out.

How this manages to be so exhaustingly dramatic an experience, yet simultaneously underwhelming, Allura doesn’t know.

“Oh!” says Shiro, an amused twitch to his smile. “Congratulations, the both of you.”

Hunk’s eyes are wide, impossibly so. “… Huh?”

“Sorry for not telling you before. It just… never came up.”

”No—it’s just. Wow. Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Me neither. Huh, weird. I didn’t think Allura would… yeah,” says Pidge, a strange expression on her face Allura can’t quite distinguish.

“He’s right, Pidge,” Allura admits, looking fondly at Lance on the screen. He returns the look easily.

“Gross,” says Pidge, that expression disappearing like it was never there at all. Pidge rolls her eyes. “Get a lion, guys.”

Lance just laughs, a sound that has Allura wondering just how they managed to hide this relationship at all.

It is truly a beautiful sound.

[cocrante]

I Start Over With You

[SOLANGELO FANFIC]

summary: After the great battle against the forces of Gaea, Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter had formed a long-lasting alliance. Everything had gone well, and everyone was ready to start anew. This included Nico, who, after confessing his feelings to Percy, was prepared to open a new chapter in his life—perhaps the happiest one the Fates had ever written.

note: the chapters will be updated every Wednesday. If you want to read upcoming chapters of the fanfiction in advance, I invite you to follow me on Patreon. Subscribing is not necessary, these chapters will be added for free on the platform on Mondays and Fridays. Following me there is just a kind and free gesture to support my work c:

nda. On this chapter I had some doubts. The fanfiction you are reading is almost ten years old, and there are many inaccuracies that may have been explained in later books. The thing about demigods changing tables seemed like something I had read, but now that many years have passed, I'm not sure anymore. For plot reasons, let's pretend they can do it.

Reblogs are highly appreciated c:

[CHAPTER 4]

SINCE THE WAR HAD ENDEND and the two camps had started to mix to learn new training techniques, the cafeteria had slowly begun to change like that of New Rome, although some who preferred the status quo wrinkled their noses at seeing demigods from other cabins sitting at different tables.

The first time was the evening when Jason declared that he wanted to stay at the camp, feeling finally in a place he could call home. That evening he abruptly got up from his lonely table and sat down at Aphrodite's one, causing surprise and dissent from some, but certainly the table of the goddess of love did not disagree with hosting the handsome blonde. That evening, there was a lot of movement in the mess hall, with demigods moving from table to table, making dinner more chaotic and lively. After making his offering in the fire, with no particular request or prayer, Nico returned to his table, preferring solitude and tranquility, but unfortunately not everyone respected his lifestyle. Jason was keeping him company, as he had promised to do more often during meals. "Did Aphrodite kick you out, Grace?" Nico asked with a hint of irony, taking a sip from his goblet. Jason tried to suppress a laugh. "If you want, I can leave you alone" he replied, picking up a warm loaf of bread. The boy in front of him raised an eyebrow, as if he would get up in response to an affirmative answer. "Do as you please" he grumbled.

"So—" spoke the son of Jupiter after a while, catching Nico's attention. "We'll see again tomorrow morning for training at the arena?" Jason asked, spearing some asparagus with his fork. Nico remained silent for a moment, staring at his friend's face. He had forgotten that he had promised to train with Jason the next morning. "Ah" he exclaimed embarrassedly. "No. No, I—I have something else to do" he muttered, looking down at his plate. At that response, Jason completely lost interest in dinner. He was now much more curious about what Nico had to do that was better than training with him. "And what would that be?" he asked, crossing his arms on the table. Nico frowned, as if he was really obligated to answer him. "It's none of your business" he replied abruptly, taking another sip from his goblet and pointing his eyes towards the table of the seventh house, always lively and sunny as only the children of the sun god could be. "You know that I'll find out anyway" Jason smiled wryly. After all, sooner or later, everyone in the camp would find out about each other's business, and with that kind of provocation, Nico grumbled. He valued his privacy, but agreed that the boy would find out from external sources and subsequently pester him with stupid questions. "Fine" he sighed, placing his goblet on the table. "I'm going for a boat ride" he shrugged, trying to seem as annoyed as possible. "Oh really?" Jason placed his hand on his face, surprised by that response. Everyone knew that for some demigods, certain elements were off-limits. "Yes, Jason" Nico snapped, rolling his eyes. "And with whom are you going?" the handsome blond boy whispered, getting closer. At that proximity, Nico moved back a bit with his back, feeling his ears grow warmer. "Will asked me" he curled his lips, as if to say what can I do?

"Ah" Jason exclaimed in surprise, turning briefly to Apollo's table, where his children were having fun and entertaining with poetry and pop songs. "I didn't think you liked blonds" at that phrase, Nico almost choked on a piece of meat, causing some demigods to turn their heads out of curiosity and one in particular from the seventh table to go and see what was happening in person. When everything seemed to have returned to normal, the boy who had almost fully stood up returned to his seat, laughing at a joke from one of his brothers, avoiding looking at the table of Ade's son. "What the hell, Grace!" Nico scolded him, spitting out what was left in his throat onto a tissue. "We're just friends, I think" he explained, moving the plate out of sight. He had lost his appetite. Jason nodded, wanting to believe him. "Well, then, we'll see you after your date?" he finger-quoted, causing a certain nervousness in the boy in front of him. "As you wish" he replied, hoping that promise would shut him up. "Great".

At the end of the dinner, some groups left the cafeteria, leaving the tables full of dirt to be cleaned by the camp's harpies. Many of the boys headed to the bonfire, where it was a tradition to roast marshmallows and sing campfire songs. "Aren't you coming?" Jason asked Nico, seeing him heading up the camp to go to his cabin. "No, I'm good" he replied, distancing himself from the overly noisy crowd. "Oh—" Jason whispered. Once again, he had hoped that Nico would join them to sing the song of the Minotaur. "Good night!" the boy raised his voice to be heard by Nico, who raised his hand in return without turning around. But Nico, distracted by his thoughts for the next day, had not noticed that a figure was getting closer and closer behind him. "Planning to bolt?" the voice whispered, making the boy startle and jump. Caught off guard, he searched at his side for his sword to unsheathe it, only then remembering that he had left it in his cabin. He turned around and let out an imperceptible sigh. "Hasn't anyone taught you not to sneak up on people, especially at night!" he scolded. "I could have skewered you" he lifted his eyes to the sky. "Oh yeah?" Will asked amusedly. "And with what?" he smiled, indicating the left side devoid of his sword. "You're lucky I left it in the cabin" Nico pressed his lips together to avoid saying something inappropriate. Years of wandering outside had taught him to sharpen his senses, it was just a coincidence that the sword had been left in the cabin. However, Will shrugged "You still haven't answered my question, though" continued the boy. "What question?" Nico sighed, curiously raising an eyebrow. "Are you making a run for it?" Will repeated, hoping to convince him to stay at the camp and sing by the fire. "Yes" he replied directly, resuming his path towards cabin number 13. "Come on! Everyone's there" Will followed him. "Correct" that was precisely the reason he didn't want to go there. "You don't have to sing" Will smiled, his teeth shining even in the dark. "I'll take care of that" Nico stopped, muttering some not very flattering words in his mother tongue. "What did you say?" the boy was curious. "I said I'm coming" he lied, but Will didn't know Italian. "But only for five minutes" and saying that, the two of them headed towards the bonfire.

Without too much fuss, the two sat down in the middle of the group. Nico greeted Jason with a nod, who smiled seeing that his friend had changed his mind, then seeing him close to Will, it all became clear. Nico, slightly embarrassed, sat down near the cabin led by Will, as the boy had insisted so much for him to sit beside him. Will passed some marshmallows for Nico to roast so he wouldn't get bored while the others sang. Nico thanked him, already toasting the candy, listening enchanted to the intoned voices of the Apollo cabin mixed with the off-key ones of the others. He was listening in particular to one voice, the only one he really liked: Will had a really beautiful tone, melodic, warm. Nico would never admit it, but he would have stayed listening to him sing for hours and even though the boy repeated that he was only good at treating wounds, Nico found that he was also good at many other things worthy of a son of Apollo. At the second song, Will decided to take a break and talk to Nico, who had ignored him all that time. "Are you having fun?" asked the boy. Nico looked at him, ready to give him an another negative answer, but seeing Will's sunny face, with that beautiful smile, he couldn't tell him that he was bored to death. "Yes" he simply replied, breaking the roasted candy off the stick. "Thanks for accepting my invitation" the boy whispered in his ear, with all that noise it was difficult to hear anything. "It will be the last time you convince me to do it" Nico replied in the boy's ear.

On the other side of the bonfire, Jason never took his eyes off the two. It was the first time he had seen Nico smile and laugh at a joke. "What are you staring at?" Piper asked at one point, noticing that her boyfriend had been silent the whole time staring ahead. "What do you think?" he whispered to the girl, leaning close to her ear. Piper remained perplexed for a moment, not understanding the question, then looked to where Jason was looking, stunned. "Since when can he smile?" she asked ironically, laughing to herself. "Is that Will he's talking to?" the girl asked, who had not yet found a way to learn the names of the members of the cabins. "Exactly him" Jason replied, bending his lips in a crooked smile. "They look really good together" the girl whispered, and Jason couldn't agree more.

[CONTENTS]

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20

[shigerussato]

WIPS LIST ! 

inspired by ira’s post + with palletshipping week down the corner i want to let you all know what is coming up for my fics since I’m excited ! i am introducing my palletshipping week works first as it is the ones to look forward to as they are most upcoming ! after palletshipping week works i am introducing my later upcoming works that are still palletshipping based but not associated with palletshipping week, thank you to those who’ve been supporting me, hope you’re as excited as i am ! 🤍

[Palletshipping Week Works]

A Road Of Memories 

As a new year of the Oak Summer Camp takes place, husbands; Gary and Ash are asked by Professor Oak to host his annual summer camp with him. With reliving short childhood memories of he and his husband, Gary makes it a goal to get a child from the camp to like him, and to be better at bonding with children. 

Could You Love So Young? 

Gary reminiscing how he fell in love with Ash, recalling how he fell in love so young. 

Distance Means Nothing, When It’s Love

Gary stays at Delia’s house missing his husband and feeling lonely without him, in a process he is offered to be a gym leader for a new gym being built in Pallet. Receiving a postcard from Ash, Gary seeks advice and motivation from him. 

Mother Knows Best

Doing her usual housework, Delia gets a surprise visit from Gary. Catching up and hanging out, Delia hints emotions she suspects about her son, noticing mutual feelings from Gary.

To Get Along With An Umbreon 

Dating can seem difficult at first, but for Ash dating isn’t the difficulty of his relationship with his boyfriend. It happens to be, being likable to his boyfriend’s Umbreon. 

Palletshipping Week Day 6 (title undecided)

Gary and Ash set onto a road trip like journey, the excitement then blows away as their romantic adventures turn into complete chaos. 

Difficulties of Anniversaries 

One of the biggest challenges of anniversaries for Ash is gifts, in attempts to get the perfect gift he also puts a special remark into his gift. 

[Other]

In love your honor [lawyer x lawyer au]

Two rival lawyers; ash and gary. ash going years of losing cases against gary, and as much as the luck seems tough ash somehow gets chosen to take a partnership with gary in a newest case. only time will tell who goes insane first. 

title not decided yet ): [lowkey kid fic ! / professor x social worker/lawyer !]

Ash is a lawyer and social worker, getting his next case he meets a man named Gary who is fighting for the custody of his 4 year old daughter Cleo, as any other lawyer would. Ash makes it his priority to grant Gary custody of the little girl. 

Just For Rent Sequel  Undecided on the proper topic for this one but planning along the lines of them revealing their relationship to their family possible ex’s drama all of that stuff ! 

Chaperones, Chaperoning!

With their kids going on a camp resort, single dad’s Ash and Gary meet as they volunteer to chaperone for the camp. seeing it as opportunities to bond and get close to their distant children they see difficulties and drive one another insane sharing a tent. but chaperoning might not be so bad when giving each other advice. 

They Are Back! 

Returning home for a get together, Ash and Gary meet up with old friends! bringing along their teenage son with them who seems to be uninterested in whatever has to do with his dads. with get together and meeting old friends comes along with teens meeting other teens. 

[influencermagazineuk]

Jeremy Clarkson Opens Up About Recent Heart Procedure

Television host Jeremy Clarkson recently divulged that his health took a nasty turn in the past for him to have a heart procedure. The 64-year-old television personality, who gained fame from the airing of Clarkson's Farm and Top Gear, made detailed comments about the whole experience in the article written by him for The Sunday Times. Describing the uncomfortable symptoms, he says: "I felt 'clammy,' a feeling of 'tightness' in my chest, and 'pins and needles' in my left arm." These symptoms appear some time after his return from holiday. Ed Perchick, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons He narrated that he had gone to the hospital after he began feeling sick, where he was taken via an ambulance and a stent was installed there. A stent is the placement of a small tube in an artery to prevent narrowing or blockage, and it keeps the artery open with more blood flowing in. In reflection on his incident, Clarkson said: "I certainly wasn't having a heart attack. But if it hadn't looked that way, I never would have been sent to hospital." Clarkson also described his vacation in the Indian Ocean, during which he started noticing his condition deteriorate. He said one had to stop and make sure limbs were working while attempting to stand up. Not even swimming was without a race; he would not go down a flight of stairs alone. "These issues all arrived in one day, so the rest of my holiday was quite relaxing because all I did was sit in an armchair drinking wine and eating cheese," Clarkson joked. However, once back home again, he deteriorated in condition. He woke up one Wednesday morning feeling especially terrible-one-sided clamminess and chest tightness similar to what had started with him previously-but he hardly felt like doing anything about it. It was only when the pins and needles developed in his left arm that he started taking things seriously. He was immediately taken to John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford, where he was put through all sorts of tests, like ECG, blood tests, and X-rays. The diagnosis finally said that although it was not a heart attack, but one of his arteries was completely blocked and the other one had serious narrowing. As this was the condition, doctors thought they would make stent for him to normalize the flow of blood. Clarkson recalled the turn of events after the procedure, adding that the next morning he went home and here he was two hours later, writing this and sort of thinking, 'Crikey that was close'. He further singled out John Radcliffe Hospital staff and thanked them for their efforts in saving him, adding that it is the equipment they have and the people that work here which make them heal people. Clarkson, in typical fashion, added some humor to it with a talk about musing, "Now, thanks to all those tremendous people at the John Radcliffe in Oxford and all of their extraordinary machines, here I am wondering what water tastes like and if it's possible to make celery interesting." This is not the first health scare for Clarkson. In the past, he had come forth to disclose that he was compelled to quit smoking after catching pneumonia while on holiday in Spain. At the time, his health had deteriorated to the extent that he was required to bring about drastic lifestyle changes. Pneumonia with the recent heart procedure has been this wake-up call for the loudmouthed TV host long known for his fondness for cigars and anything less than health-giving habits. The supporters of Clarkson's work following his years as a host on the programme Top Gear to his more recent projects have been drawn into the genuine concern with his latest frankness about health issues. It was with his latest resignation from the show The Grand Tour with fellow presenters Richard Hammond and James May that brought to an end fans' viewing enjoyment of the chemistry among these three chaps. With all these health setbacks, Clarkson remains his usual witty and irreverent self even in his recovery. His fans would more than likely be relieved to hear that he is now on the mend and back in his routine although this time with adjustments. His most recent turn in health reminds him to pay attention to his body and seek medical help if something is not quite right. Clarkston himself seems to have learned this lesson, confessing that "perhaps I might not have gone in" had the symptoms not mimicked a heart attack. For now, it looks like Clarkson is getting a good ride out of this, but thankful for his care and with wits and humour in hand. Fans will be waiting to see what he has in store for the future, but many of those fans will probably hope that he takes better care of his health going forward from now. Read the full article

[thefuckingvillainmustache]

Retrived article:

After the cute daddy-daughter duo won $5,000 for Autism Speaks by competing on the USA Network series, Fatone opened up to ET about the challenges he and his wife, Kelly, have faced with Kloey’s autism.

“It has tested us a lot. She’s on the spectrum of autism and there are all different types, so everyone handles their child differently, but we handle it as we go, like most parents,” shared Fatone, who also has a 16-year-old daughter, Briahna. “The things that I was able to simply explain or express to Briahna when she was young, I have to kind of take a different approach with Kloey, for her to understand.”

WATCH: *NSYNC’s Joey Fatone Kisses Nick Carter at Backstreet Boys Concert

During the episode, Fatone shared that Kloey has high-functioning autism (HFA), meaning she is considered cognitively "higher functioning" than others with the condition.

The diagnosis isn’t stopping the gorgeous girl from hitting the spotlight with her dad. She had a blast on the series, which sees celebrities pair up with their kids and compete against other teams to see who knows each other best.

While Fatone, 40, is no stranger to the camera, thanks to a varied singing, acting and hosting career, he predicts Kloey may also catch the entertainment bug. “[Doing Big Star Little Star] was very exciting and I was happy she had a great time and wasn’t nervous,” he said. “That kid has no fear.”

EXCLUSIVE: Howie Dorough on Juggling Work With Fatherhood

“Briahna wants nothing to do with the entertainment industry, but I do feel like Kloey could be my little entertainer,” Fatone continued. “I will help her out and support her totally, but I won’t be a stage dad! The biggest thing I hope they learn [from my career] is that anything is possible.”

Speaking of his career, despite being best known for his time with “It’s Gonna Be Me” crooners *NSYNC, he admitted Kloey doesn’t yet have a grasp of her dad’s iconic boy band status. When asked by show host Cat Deeley if she and Fatone would be “in sync” during the competition, Kloey confessed she’d never heard the term. “You know what *NSYNC is, right?” asked Fatone, to which she adorably replied, “Nope!”

While the group’s fandom remains strong 15 years after they parted ways, Fatone noted his boy band fame is less intrusive to family life these days. “When Briahna was younger it was difficult because it was the height of our career,” he explained. “Kloey still doesn’t grasp the idea. She sees daddy on TV and still doesn’t really get it. She thinks all daddy does is go on big planes and travel.”

Indeed, between filming movies like My Fat Greek Wedding 2 and Dead 7, appearing in commercials, hosting shows including Rewrapped, making cameos on fellow boy bander Joey McIntyre’s sitcom Return of the Mac, philanthropic work and opening a hot dog joint called Fat One’s Hot Dogs and Italian Ice, Fatone has spent substantial time traveling since Kloey was born.

EXCLUSIVE: *NSYNC Will Reunite at Walk of Fame Ceremony

However, when he is at home, he remains a doting dad, referring to himself as “Mr. Mom” and sharing how he tricks Kloey into eating vegetables by processing them into a soupy texture and mixing them into dishes like mac-n-cheese!

The biggest challenge that comes with playing Mr. Mom to two daughters?

“That’s just it -- they’re daughters,” laughs Fatone. “I know things from a male perspective and they need the female perspective. It’s especially challenging with a 16-year-old.”

*NSYNC Star Joey Fatone Opens Up About Daughter Kloey’s Autism: “It Has Tested Us a Lot”

Joey Fatone’s adorable 7-year-old daughter Kloey stole the show on Wednesday’s episode of Big Star Little Star, hilariously dishing on her pop star dad’s most annoying habits, comparing the singer to a big “furry” gorilla, and pleading blatant ignorance to *NSYNC!

During the episode, Fatone shared that Kloey has high-functioning autism (HFA), meaning she is considered cognitively “higher functioning” than others with the condition. Fatone opened up to ET about the challenges he and his wife, Kelly, have faced with Kloey’s autism.

“It has tested us a lot. She’s on the spectrum of autism and there are all different types, so everyone handles their child differently, but we handle it as we go, like most parents,” shared Fatone, who also has a 16-year-old daughter, Briahna. “The things that I was able to simply explain or express to Briahna when she was young, I have to kind of take a different approach with Kloey, for her to understand.”

- Read more at: http://www.etonline.com/news/220171_exclusive_nsync_star_joey_fatone_opens_up_about_daughter_kloey_s_autism/

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Every Direction

“I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have [perfect] peace and confidence. In the world you have tribulation and trials and distress and frustration; but be of good cheer [take courage; be confident, certain, undaunted]! For I have overcome the world. [I have deprived it of power to harm you and have conquered it for you.]” John 17:33AMPC

Why can’t I remember that He’s overcome the world in the midst of trouble? Can you remember and not start sweating the small stuff? Jesus said He was giving us “[perfect] peace and confidence.”

Look around you in every direction. What do you see? People, perhaps yourself, are going through “tribulation and trials and distress and frustration.” ***One man I know is working full time, paying child support, and doesn’t have enough money to rent an apartment for himself. ***Another couple I know are both working, paying rent and have barely enough money to buy any food, let alone gas for their car. ***A couple we are praying for— he’s been diagnosed with ALS. She’s been diagnosed with cancer. Four children, with the oldest just diagnosed with child onset diabetes. ***The fire in Hawaii looks like laser warfare and no government official is searching for the culprit but rather blaming the electric company. How’d the electric lines catch all the boats on fire? ***Fire is raging through Louisiana, nearing the home of a distant cousin and thousands others. ***There’s a decrepit old man in the White House, who barely knows what he’s doing half the time. ***Our southern border is open and terrorists are pouring across with drugs to kill our entire nation. ***Election time and they’re gearing up to fan the flames of fear, introduce a new variant, (Put ten drops of Mercurochrome in one ounce water, swab both nostrils and gargle, you’ll get well.) While they shut down the nation, and steal the election again. Funny how that works.

Have I listed enough troubles, trials, distresses, and frustrations? There’s more! Point is: Jesus is bigger than all satan can throw at us. To overcome, we must simply focus on Jesus and His Word— nothing else— make His Word final authority in our lives. Example: Lou and I are on Social Security Income— a mere pittance of what we used to make. We’ve gone through our budgeted travel money for the year and we must travel some more. Where will the money come from? “Bring the full tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in My house. …put Me to the test, says the LORD of hosts, if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour down for you a blessing until there is no more need. …I will rebuke the devourer for you, so that it will not destroy…” Malachi 3:10-11ESV. As tithers, Lou and I have God’s Word on this. He’s faithful to His Word and we’ll have enough when the day of need comes.

Are trials and tribulations coming at you from every direction? Jesus has already overcome troubles for you. Try doing this— specifically write out everything you need answers for, asking God to show you His promises for all of those needs? Then write out those verses He gives you. Every time you pray thank God for supplying all your needs, Sit back and watch how He works when you speak His promises rather than your problems, praise instead of worrying and crying. Answers will come in from every direction. Don’t agree? Hmmm, is the way you’re doing things working? I didn’t think so. What will you do? It’s your choice. You chose.

LET’S PRAY: Lord God, praise You for sending Jesus to overcome all the works of satan, especially those going on in our lives and world right now. Show us the promises You want us to believe in and stand on, in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2023 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.

[fmhiphop]

Ti and Boosie Badazz Resolve Their Beef at a St. Louis Airport

T.I. and Boosie, two southern rap icons, recently came to blows online over a long-forgotten story. But it appears things have smoothed over. A Quick Meetup This past Sunday (Apr 9), Boosie and T.I ran into each other at St. Louis Lambert International Airport. A photo was taken of the pair and quickly spread across social media. Many fans expressed curiosity about the unheard conversation or suspected Boosie wasn’t too happy from his facial expression. https://twitter.com/mymixtapez/status/1645166840178524162 https://twitter.com/_probgb/status/1645253529504829440?s=46&t=05UBURGgp4Pl8V3OWpzCaQ https://twitter.com/fbgduggie/status/1645237383913172994?s=46&t=05UBURGgp4Pl8V3OWpzCaQ https://twitter.com/mike___1000/status/1645428515016265728?s=46&t=05UBURGgp4Pl8V3OWpzCaQ   The surprise meet-up follows the Legends Never Die Concert, in which both men performed together. In addition to this, Nelly, Twista, and Jeezy made an appearance at the star-studded event. Since the photo has gone viral, neither T.I or Boosie have made any comment. Boosie Speaks The argument initially started back in February when the 'Wipe Me Down' rapper called out T.I for admitting to throwing a gun charge on his deceased cousin to avoid jail time. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Vm9hxyGrII “With the T.I. situation, if he did that – you a fucking rat too,” Boosie said. “I don’t spare no muthafuckin’ body. Because if you doing anything wrong, you doing anything criminal and you cooperate with law enforcement to get you out of trouble – that means you’re cooperating. That means you’re a rat.” He continued to explain, “But I’ma tell you like this. When I saw that, I think, ‘T.I. fucking lying.’ I think he went up there and just got to fucking talking. You think something happen at 17, 18 years old … you gon’ hold that in all them damn time? All this damn time for 20 some years, you gon’ hold that in? And it finally came out?” T.I. Responds In the same interview, Boosie confirmed he’s canceling the joint album with T.I. The Louisiana artist has been a longtime advocate of the “no snitching” policy that has dominated rap culture for decades.  Later that month, the ATL star had an interview with Rich Trapper where he claimed his story was largely fabricated. The 42-year-old also clarified the story stemmed from “Humor, sarcasm, and satire”. “It came from a conversation that my partner and I was having, and that conversation was, ‘Hey bruh, if me and you catch a case together and I die before you, it’s mine.’” T.I explained. “He like, ‘Nah, I can’t do that.’ Yes, you can. It’s mine, why can’t you? I don’t understand it. He said, ‘Nah, I can’t do it. I can’t say nothing about anybody who do, but I can’t do it.'”   View this post on Instagram   A post shared by DJ Akademiks (@akademiks) If that isn’t enough, in addition to this T.I. posted a photo of court paperwork on his Instagram story to clear his name. The 2003 Fulton County case involved an “illegal stop, arrest, search and seizure and interrogation” causing all evidence to be thrown out. This supports T.I.'s story of embellishing the tale with his cousin since a confession would reflect in the court documents.   View this post on Instagram   A post shared by DJ Akademiks (@akademiks) To further drive the point home T.I hosted a “paperwork party” in Atlanta and publicly acknowledged an absent Boosie. “I just don’t like for a n-gga to God damn get fly then get shy, you hear me?” the 'Live Your Life' Rapper said. “My n-gga, I’m right here in the center, so come on if you got something to say about me, if you think it is what it ain’t. There’s one way to clear it up: pull on up, let me show you what you looking for.” By March, things seemed to have cooled down between the duo. In a TMZ interview, TI denied having any beef with Boosie and said the 'Slayed' rapper simply misspoke. Let's hope these two industry vets can keep things civil. Written by Dreema Carrington  Also, follow and like FMHipHop on YouTube, Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook!  Read the full article