#vision boarding as we speak......... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dallaji · 11 months

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Hope we make it to the Cloud.

♡ bada lee x idol!reader / NSFW❗

SUMMARY: Amidst an identity crisis, you try to adequately prepare for your solo comeback. The lyrics have already been perfected, the song recorded and the visuals pinpointed. However, your creative team is not fully convinced by the choreography you came up with. They decide to send over one Bada Lee to help you finetune your jumbled ideas and bring harmony to your vision. You just have one specific request: the routine must include a trampoline.

WORD COUNT: 10k

CW: eventual smut, bada is 100% a giver and not a receiver in this jsyk (but i promise it makes sense in context), hinted voyeurism.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was meant to be pure smut but it became much longer than i intended ... oops for that . . . lets just roll with it!!1 also the choreo described is heavily inspired by tinashes bouncin.

- you don't care about those 7k words worth of boring build up? skip to this line: <After ten minutes of complete silence, Bada was the one to speak in a hushed voice: “What happened?”>

————— ୨୧ —————

The first thing you notice is how surprisingly gentle her voice is.

“I’m Bada, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Bada Lee stood tall in front of you, clad in an oversized jersey, cargo pants and a cap hugging her forehead in such a way her eyes were entirely obscured from your view. She promptly bowed after she spoke. Unsure where to look, you dropped your gaze and followed suit; vaguely aware of her seniority and bowing deeper.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” You tried to keep your own voice as neutral as possible, but agitation bubbled in your chest as you felt your manager’s prodding, eager eyes behind you. “Thanks for being here.”

Your team was much more excited about this collaboration than you were.

None of the aggravation you felt was Bada’s fault. It had been three weeks of your creative team dismissing every choreo draft you came up with: Three weeks of sleepless nights at the dance studio, tiring out yourself and your background dancers. Three weeks of browsing through videos sent in by other choreographers across the country, attempting to mix bits and pieces together but none of it ever feeling right. Three weeks filled with reminders of a deadline looming over your head. Three weeks of your team letting you know they had little confidence in this comeback. Your last attempt at showing them what you had come up with had ended up in a shouting match. Your manager, who you otherwise got along with just fine, bluntly stated that, perhaps, this concept simply wasn’t something you could pull off.

It had left you feeling betrayed. Your creative team had agreed it was time for you to approach a more mature concept, something that you felt was years overdue. But it seemed their definition of mature and yours were wildly different. You had worked hard on perfecting a set of songs to choose from, but you immediately butted heads with the rest of the team. You wanted to do the bouncy and playful R&B track. Your team wanted the EDM track. Eventually they relented, but now seemed hellbent on making it as difficult as possible for your vision to come to fruition. Putting together the visual board for the concept photos and the eventual music video was a similarly arduous process. You had to meet in the middle and sacrifice a lot of your initial ideas, but that procedure was almost pleasant compared to what you were dealing with in regards to the choreography.

Every idea you put forward was promptly shut down. Too complicated. Too boring. No TikTok challenge potential. Too sexy.

And maybe it was true. Your formations weren’t as clean as the ones thought up by a professional choreographer, but you weren’t really given a chance at all. It wasn’t like you were a bad dancer either. Far from it. You picked up choreos incredibly fast and had always played an active part in brainstorming past routines alongside your background dancers. You had more experience than most of your peers, yet you were treated as if you were still the same teenaged trainee from years ago.

“Is that really how you all feel?” You had whispered after your manager dropped that bombshell, searching for an answer in the facial expressions of your creative team. Most of them were not even willing to meet your eyes. “We just need to be realistic.” Your manager stated matter-of-factly. “That other song is still an opt—” “I am not changing the song.” You cut him off. Momentarily, your manager looked like a fish on dry land, gasping for air. “Sorry.” You added quickly, albeit a bit flustered. “Look,” He sighed, “We can do mature without shocking the nation. Let's keep it mild for now and maybe after two or three more singles, you can go all out.” “I haven’t been 18 in years, you know.” You retorted bitterly. Something inside you understood where he was coming from, but you had been obedient since your debut- how much longer should you wait? You didn’t want to sacrifice any more of your creativity, so many years into your career. You had even seen one of your own concepts go to a labelmate instead, your own team dubbing you too “youthful” to pull it off. “Okay, how about this,” He began with a frown, “Let us pick one of the choreographers’ drafts for you. You can finetune it with their guidance.”

Their pick had been Bada. You hadn’t even realized she sent in a draft: at one point you were so overwhelmed you just stopped checking your emails. You also hadn’t bothered to watch it before this meeting. You were genuinely too deep in your feelings about that whole ordeal for that. However, now that she was standing in the studio, tall height towering over you, you couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious.

You had seen Bada around.

After all, she had worked with many of your labelmates before. You had also watched a fair amount of her videos. She was one of the best in the business, and whenever you had downtime to practice freely you scrolled through her routines on Youtube to help stay in shape. As you were facing her, even with half her face hidden, you understood why everyone was so stricken with her. When she had walked into the room she oozed with authority, though not in an obnoxious way.

“Great!” Your manager clapped his hands, effectively breaking your train of thought. “Thank you so much for supporting us, Bada. Shall we jump right in?”

“Sure,” She nodded eagerly, hands wringing together as her body turned towards you. “I kind of wanted to see what you had in mind for this choreo.”

That surprised you, and you were certain your facial expression wasn’t hiding it. Your manager held his breath. “Oh! Well—” You chewed on your lip as you vaguely motioned the corner of the room, trying to find the words. “I wanted to use… I wanted to use a trampoline.”

Bada immediately turned her head to follow your gestures, her eyes landing on the mini trampoline set up in the studio. “A trampoline?” In the background, your manager heaved a sigh.

You purposely ignored him and nodded, slowly: “I can show you, if you want.” You had hoped that sounded more self-assured to her than it did to you.

Bada scratched her chin, still looking off to the trampoline, and then nodded along with you. “I’d love to see it.”

You felt the tension in your chest ebb away. There was no malice to her tone; she seemed genuinely curious.

Then, Bada turned her head towards your manager, her ponytail falling off her shoulder. “I hope I'm not imposing but, I would like this to be a collaborative effort between the two of us. I think it would take the pressure off if you…?” She trailed off with a kind smile, one impossible to say no to.

As if he got doused with cold water, your manager stood up with an urgency. “Privacy! I can give you two some privacy, no problem!” He fussed around, gathering his things. “Just let me know when we can sit in on the finished product.”

The both of you bowed to him as you bid your farewells, watching him leave the studio with a wave. Once the door shut behind him, you could feel yourself exhale in relief. You knew that if your manager was going to sit in on every practice, he would go out of his way to shut down all of your ideas. Without him around, you had more opportunity to champion your vision- at least, you hoped so.

You craned your neck, looking up at the ceiling, before letting your eyes fall shut with a sigh, almost forgetting there was another person in the room.

“They’ve been on your case, huh?”

Bada's soft but clear voice broke you out of your spell, and you turned your head to search for a glimpse of eye contact. Tough luck, as her hat was still in place casting a shadow down her face. There was, however, a knowing smirk playing across her features.

“You have no idea.” You muttered honestly. Bada laughed.

“I don’t want to make you dance a routine you don’t fully stand behind. I did mean it when I said I want this to be a collaborative effort.” Bada spoke carefully, but sincerely, her fingers once again intertwining. “I always wanted to work with you, so it’s an honor.” She added.

If you got a penny for every time you were caught off guard today, you could set some humble savings aside for an early retirement.

It is true that you’ve been sought after, but it wasn’t something you had ever internalized. Hearing it come from someone who herself was heavily sought after, made your face heat up.

“T- thank you. It’s an honor to work with you too.”

She bowed her head humbly, glancing over to the corner of the studio again where the trampoline sat, waiting. “Do you feel comfortable showing me what you have been working on?”

You nodded and rushed to the corner to set up your speaker, and then dragged the trampoline to the center of the room. You were oddly aware of your own presence, and almost felt the urge to make yourself smaller as you moved around. In the meantime, Bada was getting comfortable: she had dropped her things on a nearby table and left out a bottle of water. To her it must be a regular working day, but to you this felt scarier than getting up on stage.

Once you stood behind the trampoline, facing the wide stretched mirror filling up one side of the room, you stole a glance at the choreographer who was now crouched on the floor. She had pulled out a small camera and was setting it up on the edge of the table, making sure the lens was focused on your position. Long fingers fiddled with the buttons, and her tongue was prodding the hollow of her cheek. The angle allowed you to finally catch a glimpse of her eyes.

As if on cue, she glanced up at you. Your eyes met in the reflection of the mirror and your heart raced.

She gave you a soft smile and moved to sit cross-legged on the floor, the camera now fully set up. “I usually record everything, so we can watch it back and give feedback.”

Right, of course.

“Yeah, that’s usually how we operate as well.” You spoke timidly, and it was true. Yet something about having her attention on you felt more intimate. Usually there was at least one other person from your creative team looking on as well.

Trying to come across casual, you tied your hair up in a high ponytail. “What do you think of the song?” You asked curiously.

It was now Bada’s turn to be caught off guard. Her smile faltered and she broke the eye contact you had been sharing, clasping her hands together as she spoke. “I like it.” She began. “A lot, actually. It’s why I wanted to play a part in it. There isn’t anyone doing a song like this nowadays.”

Even though her body language was confusing, you couldn’t find any dishonesty in her voice. What she said made you feel relieved, some of your insecurity fading to the background. It’s why I wanted to play a part in it.

You sent a smile her way even though you weren’t sure she was even looking at you.

Proving you wrong, she smiled back.

“Alright, so,” You gestured to the trampoline at your feet. “The idea is, the other dancers and I all do the same routine. I'll be front and center. Four or six other dancers dance behind me, with their own trampoline.” You gave the trampoline a light shove with your foot, making sure it would stay in place, and then grabbed your phone. “Then you have an idea.”

You looked over your shoulder at Bada and gave her an inquisitive thumbs up. “Ready?” You asked.

Bada pressed a button on the camera and mimicked your thumbs up with a smile. “Ready when you are.”

You faced the mirror again and shook your shoulders a bit, forcing your body to loosen up. After twisting your neck a few times, you hit play on your phone, quickly placing it under the trampoline as the familiar synths of the song started blaring from the speakers. You tried to feel the confidence you were usually able to conjure up on stage, closing your eyes and swaying your hips, ponytail moving from side to side.

As soon as you heard your own voice through the speakers, instrumentals going deeper, you got into position. Your eyes opened up to focus on your own reflection in the mirror as if it was a fan in the crowd watching. Mouthing along to the lyrics, a playful smile on your lips, you hit every move as you had envisioned. Once the chorus came up, you dropped to your knees on the trampoline, grappling the edge as you performed the routine. Pushing back against the springs gave you the velocity to keep your moves fluid, your body twisting and turning, flipping over and hitting the next move. You made sure to move your hips deftly, aware that you had enough curves to allow you to pull it off, and kept your facial expressions in line. It had to look effortless.

You felt your ponytail swing along with your movements as if it were an extension of you, and sat up on the trampoline. The chorus came to an end and you used your arm strength to twist yourself around fast enough, gracefully falling back on your chest whilst keeping your toes en pointe in your sneakers. The tips of your fingers were touching the floor as your legs crossed, moving to rest your elbow on the edge of the trampoline and resting your chin atop your palm. You lip synced to the final words of the chorus, gaze alluring as you finished the move, and the music stopped.

You slowly sat up straight on the trampoline, crossing your legs, and slid your hand underneath to hit pause on your phone. You looked towards Bada expectantly, but the question got stuck in your throat. She was staring at you, mouth slightly agape, with an unreadable expression. For a split second you were reminded of your trainee days, when you had just finished a routine and were met by your choreographers’ stern faces; they wouldn’t spare you a single compliment, and instead listed off every mistake you had made.

But then, Bada blinked once and then twice, as if in a daze, and let out a soft “woah”. She started applauding you, shaking her head in bafflement. You felt your shoulders drop in relief.

“That was incredible!” The choreographer took off her cap, fixing her bangs before putting it back on. “You came up with this?”

You nodded slowly, the tips of your ears glowing hot. “I used to be a gymnast.”

“I can tell—” Bada spoke bluntly, but then snapped her mouth shut as if she said something wrong. “I mean, that was really good. Every part of your body was in command. Your team didn’t like it?”

“They think it’s too much, compared to my usual routines.” You had the urge to go off on a tangent, but ultimately you didn’t know Bada well enough. Unfortunately, you were naturally quite expressive and the disapproving frown on your face was on clear display.

“Too much? I kind of wanted more, actually.” She laughed softly, looking down to where her legs were crossed. You felt your heart skip a beat and bowed your head in lieu of a thanks.

Subsequently, the bright green light of the camera caught your attention. It was still recording.

“Hey, I think the camera is still on.” You spoke before you realized, and hoped it didn’t sound accusatory.

“Huh? Oh!” Her expression was almost akin to a child being caught with a hand in a cookie jar, the way she swiped at the camera to turn it off. “Sorry. Good call.” She mumbled shyly, tucking it behind her.

You weren’t sure what to say next, still flustered at her lofty praises, but luckily Bada broke the momentary silence.

“I had an idea…” She began, her hand rubbing at her chin pensively. “I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to watch my draft yet?”

You shook your head abashedly. “No, sorry, I honestly didn’t get to it.”

“It’s fine.” Bada waved her hands dismissively. “Maybe instead of doing the trampoline routine in every chorus, we could only do it in the middle? Exactly as it is. I wouldn’t change anything. And then for the other two choruses, we could keep some key moves but keep it on the floor.”

You mulled it over for a second, glancing up at the ceiling contemplatively. Using the trampoline the whole way through was not an option, according to your team. They had felt you were toeing the line with ‘raunchy’ much too closely. Perhaps you could find middle ground this way, while still keeping the part of the routine you felt most proud of.

“Okay.” You agreed, nodding slowly. “We would need something special for the final chorus, then.”

“I had another idea for that, if you’re fine with it. Would you like to watch my draft with me?”

————— ୨୧ —————

Her draft was good. Really good, actually.

Bada and you were sitting on the floor next to each other, the taller girl holding her phone out in front of you as the draft played on the screen. You were sitting quite closely together, but not close enough to be touching, a conscious decision on your part. You were a bit too aware of her presence, something about her was heightening your senses in a variety of ways. It wasn’t even as if she was stern or unkind, she just had an aura that intimidated you. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

A blonde girl you didn’t recognize was dancing your parts. Six other dancers, one of them being Bada, were in formation behind her performing the choreography perfectly in sync as your song played in the background. While you should really be paying attention to the girl in the center, your eyes couldn’t leave Bada’s figure. In the video she was dressed in loose-fitting cargo pants, just like today, and a crop top. Once again she wore a cap covering half her face, and even a face mask, but her hair hung loose over her shoulders.

You were always impressed by the small movements she was able to squeeze in, emphasizing certain parts in ways the other dancers weren’t able to. However, it was the final chorus that had your hands turn clammy.

The final chorus was a duet formation. Bada, with a quiet confidence in her step, and the blonde girl moved towards each other in the center of the room. They were effectively dancing for each other, the blonde girl whipping her head back as Bada stared her down, swaying their hips together rhythmically. Their steps were coordinated in such a way they almost mirrored, Bada rolling her body one way and the blonde girl moving the other; but it still felt cohesive. It was an intimate choreo. There were a few split moments of hips grinding against crotches, but it never lasted long enough to be straight up inappropriate. Still, you couldn’t help but realize you would have to practice this routine with Bada as well, and you felt yourself getting hot under the collar.

The choreo ended with the blonde girl giving Bada a playful shove, and the taller girl backed away slowly, a saunter in her step, before moving off the screen along with the other background dancers. The video ended and Bada dropped her phone in her lap, not looking at you.

“That was good.” You were relieved your voice came out evenly, and Bada started nodding in her trademark way, hands clasped together. “The formations were really clean and— I loved the final chorus.” You blurted.

She smirked, head raising and meeting your eyes for the second time today. You were starting to feel eager, greedily watching.

“I’m glad to hear. We definitely need to finetune the first chorus, line it up with your routine and all that. I really don’t want to lose your input.”

“That sounds great, thank you.” You felt a surge of gratitude in your chest, and shot her a wide smile. “I’m looking forward to working on this together.”

Bada dropped her gaze again, worrying her lower lip. You felt miffed at the brusque interruption of your shared eye contact but didn't show it.

“I suggest we start with practices tomorrow, we will edit the first chorus as we go,” She whipped out her phone, looking at her calendar. “We should practice the duet together until you’ve got a handle on it, and then I can bring over some of my guys to prep for the actual performances. I know someone for my part. He’s worked with some of your labelmates before, I’m confident he’s right for the job.”

You couldn’t tell if you were anxious at the prospect of practicing such a choreo with Bada, or if you were disappointed that the eventual product wouldn’t be performed with her. It made sense, though. If your label was already worried your concept was too mature for the country, having two women perform such a choreography wouldn’t be received well at all.

“Great. Same time tomorrow, just the two of us again?”

“Same time tomorrow,” The third time she was willing to meet your eyes, and once again with a small smile playing across her features. “Just the two of us.”

————— ୨୧ —————

Working with Bada the past few days has been surprisingly easy.

On the first day, she brought some iced coffee for the both of you and presented it with an exaggeratedly deep bow, holding out the plastic takeout bag in front of her as if she was a lackey presenting you a treasure. You giggled, muttering an incredulous “thank you” as you took the bag from her hands. Through sips of coffee, the both of you fast forwarded through the recordings trying to piece the choreography together. You were able to bounce ideas off of her in a way you never felt comfortable enough doing with other choreographers. Bada was attentive, patient and, above all, eager.

On the second day, you wanted to repay your debt and entered the studio with a box of doughnuts. She let out a surprisingly girlish squeak when you laid the box on the table, and barreled over to grab one. That day she was wearing a beanie instead of a cap, something you inadvertently preferred as you could now lock eyes and take in her features. Sometimes you had the impression she was hellbent on looking anywhere except into your eyes, but you didn’t want to mull it over for too long; some people just had a different way of interacting. Everything else about her still left you with a warm feeling.

Sometimes you both took turns performing for each other. She would pull her beanie further down her head as she took the center of the studio, and each time something inside you would brace itself. You could only watch in awe: her movements were sharp and magnetic, her entire body language changing in the blink of an eye. While your attention should be on her footwork, you were instead hypnotized by the sway of her hips, greedily drinking her in. You chalked it up to her being such a captivating dancer.

However, little could explain how much you relished in her undivided attention. When it was your turn to copy the moves, you made sure to give it your all and put on a show. Without a hat obscuring her eyes, you could tell where her eyes were looking and it wasn’t always on your reflection in the mirror. You swore you could feel her gaze burning in your lower back, but you didn’t mind. It encouraged you to hit your moves a bit harder than you usually would.

“You’re a fast learner,” Bada said at the end of the day, drinking from her water bottle as you watched her throat bob. “Keep it up and you won’t need me anymore.”

You didn’t like the sound of that.

————— ୨୧ —————

By the fifth day, the both of you had started working through the details of the duet.

The familiar song sounded through the speakers, the room filled with the sound of your singing voice and the squeaking of your sneakers on the floor.

You were painfully aware of the way Bada closely danced behind you but you kept your eyes down, forcing yourself to keep track of your footwork. You bent over slightly at the start of the next line, your hips popping out and letting your hair whip to the side as you hummed along to the lyrics. In tandem, Bada moved her hips the opposite direction but gyrated closer to you, her hand coming up to tug her cap lower. You spared the mirror a glance for a split second, realizing Bada was much closer to you than you had realized, but you pushed the thought away.

You looked good together.

“Pause real quick.” She spoke suddenly, stepping away from you and bending over to stop the song. You immediately halted your movements at the command, trying to control the heaving of your chest and willing away the warmth of your cheeks.

She stood up again, meeting your eyes in the mirror before steadying herself behind you, body close to yours.

“You’re doing great, but,” A tentative hand slid to your hip, fingers curling over in a loose grip as she subtly urged it to move to one side. Both your eyes remained locked through the mirror. “I think we should move together in this part. Like this.” She repeated the motion, her grasp on your hip tightening ever so slightly before pulling you flush against her pelvis. Her hips rocked along with yours, and you could only follow.

She hummed close to your ear, and you felt her breathe along the side of your face. “Just like that.” Her voice was quiet, gentle even, though her stare was everything but that. It was intense.

In an attempt to sound casual you replied with an “okay”, but it came out softer than you had hoped for.

Her eyes dropped from the mirror, opting to look down at you directly, but you couldn’t find the confidence to return the favor. “You should do that thing again," she continued quietly, "Where you throw your hair back, but look at me when you do it.”

You repeated your steps, but this time both her hands came down to hold your hips in place. You turned your head as requested, your hair falling over your shoulder as your eyes finally met. Her gaze was intense but undecipherable; she hadn’t been looking at the mirror at all this time.

Bada was so close, unblinking and heady. The thought entered your mind before you fully realized: if you craned your neck you could kiss her. In a careful motion, you felt her hands slide up and down slowly, smoothing along the curve of your hips.

“Perfect.” She said, and it sounded so intimate you felt lightheaded. Usually she voiced her approval with an animated smile and a thumbs up, but she spoke to you as if she was scared you would set off running. “You got it. You want to try that again with music?”

You nodded slowly and her hands dropped from your hips, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. As she bent down to turn the song back on, you brought the back of your hand up to your cheek; checking if it was as warm as you felt. Then you ran your fingers through your ponytail, tightening the hair tie with a sharp tug in an attempt to snap yourself out of whatever daze you had fallen into.

It meant nothing. She had merely workshopped a move and there was no need to feel so nervous.

The final chorus of the song began thumping again and the both of you got into your starting positions. Bada’s presence was palpable behind you, but you tried to force your head back into performance-mode. You kept your moves sharp, lip synced as if the voice came directly from your own throat and smiled playfully at all the right lines.

As the instrumentals of the final chorus got louder, you twirled a finger around your ponytail, playing with the imaginary crowd in front of you. Bada pressed up against your back. Your hips moving in tandem just as the choreo required and you could no longer repress the urge to grind back against her. You saw Bada smirk in the mirror, her eyes obscured by her cap, but you could tell she was enjoying your blunt display of confidence. That made you laugh for real, putting an extra ‘oomph’ into the roll of your hips, dropping even lower, and feeling Bada take what you gave her with a great amount of enthusiasm. You heard the choreographer let out a "woo!" and you giggled.

At the very end of the choreo, you were meant to face Bada and push her away; making room for a final solo moment. So you turned around, meeting that familiar mischievous grin and your hand came up to curl into her collar. Bada sucked in her lower lip, greedily towering over you and looking down expectantly.

But something about the giddy atmosphere had you feeling bold, so you tugged her even closer instead. Her mouth fell open, but she followed you down nonetheless, eyes becoming half-lidded. You were mere inches removed from each other, and her breath fanned across your face. For a split second her gaze lingered on your lips, and you held your breath, heart fluttering in an unfamiliar feeling. A fleeting thought told you to bridge the gap, pull her impossibly closer by the grip you had on her collar, but your body acted before your brain could.

You reached for her cap and tugged it off her head, putting it on yourself in one swift movement and then shoved her away as you were supposed to do; effectively breaking the spell. You turned on your heel to look back at your reflection in the mirror, consciously blocking Bada from your periphery and closed out the song. The music stopped.

Now that the studio was quiet you could hear the both of you catching your breaths, and rather than facing Bada while your face was still heating up, you flopped onto the floor, limbs spread out. You moved Bada’s cap atop your face, blocking out the bright lights of the practice room, feeling exceptionally winded.

You felt Bada sit down next to you and she promptly pulled her hat off your face.

“Ow,” You uttered lamely, arms coming up to cover your face instead. Surely the shame you felt was on wide display and you had to save the little bit of the reputation you had left. You could already hear her voice, albeit uncharacteristically, echo in your head: “What was that?” “Why didn’t you just stick to what I told you?” “That was highly unprofessional.” Your stomach churned.

But instead she said: “That was incredible.”

“Huh.” You exclaimed unintelligently. You tentatively moved your arms from your face and were met with Bada staring you down, her hat back in place. It would probably be too weird if you went back into hiding, so you dropped your arms uselessly.

“That was incredible,” she repeated, a fond smile on her lips. “You are incredible. I’m telling you, we’ve got a hit on our hands.” She extended her arms excitedly, as if she had to convey the sheer magnitude of potential you both had crafted.

“You really think so?” You sounded breathless, the warmth in your chest blossoming.

“I know so. Seriously? If your team doesn’t like this, they’re idiots.” Her bluntness kicked a laugh out of you, and you playfully whacked her knee. “No, I mean it!”

“It wasn’t too much?” Slowly you sat up, tugging at the front of your shirt clinging uncomfortably to your body from the sweat.

Bada tilted her head, blinking at you sympathetically as she weighed your words carefully.

“I’ve already told you,” her voice was quiet, as if she was worried someone else might overhear, “I can’t get enough of you. The same goes for the public, by the way.”

That made you want to kick your feet like a teenager, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fought the impulse to fall into her arms. Instead, you dropped your head with a timid smile hoping that did enough to show your gratitude.

Bada placed a hand on your shoulder with a touch so soft she might as well be reassembling a broken vase, urging you to look at her. “Let's take a break, order some bubble tea and then watch the recordings. Sound good?”

You leaned into the touch with exhilaration. “Yeah. My treat, though.”

————— ୨୧ —————

The tenth day coincided with a photoshoot in the morning. You had gotten up at 4am to get to the location early enough so that there was enough room for your stylists to get to work.

The first thing you noticed was the visual board you had worked on tirelessly a few weeks prior.

It had changed.

Some of the images jumbled around or left out entirely, replaced by ones you did not recognize or even liked to begin with. Even the color scheme had changed. Before you could ask your manager about it, however, your hair stylist beckoned you to follow her into the booth. Still groggy, with just a protein shake in your belly to keep you at bay, you followed without objection.

But then, after you emerged fully made up with your hair in intricate braids and ribbons, you saw the backdrop you were going to work with and the outfits you would be wearing: they looked nothing like what you had agreed on.

Once sown into the baby pink corset, you looked at your reflection in the mirror with a glassy expression, too exhausted to even express the anger that was simmering in your chest.

“What happened to the costume I commissioned?” You asked your manager in a flat voice, fully realizing you wouldn’t like whatever the answer would be.

“Oh,” But he didn’t sound surprised at all, “We didn’t really like how it turned out, so we decided to go with something else. Pink looks good on you, you know.” He added hurriedly.

You blinked, clenching and unclenching your jaw. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene in front of all the staff. Firstly, it wasn’t their fault; secondly, word got around quickly and the last thing you needed was a trending blind item about diva behavior. With great difficulty you swallowed the venom down your throat and walked over to the camera crew without sparing your manager a single glance. Bowing to everyone separately, you turned on the autopilot. You just needed to get through the day. You posed for the flashing of the cameras, turning your brain off.

“That’s a wrap! Great work, all.” The photographer’s voice snapped you out of your daze, and you slowly stumbled away from the backdrop, blinking back tears.

“Great job everyone, thank you for your hard work.” You hoped your voice sounded even and hurried away to get changed.

Once alone in your dressing room, you bent over the sink with your hands in your hair. You didn’t understand. They had seen the choreography Bada and you had worked on, and approved. They had been enthusiastic even, and it felt like your team and you had finally buried the hatchet. Now you understood why they were so pliant in their acceptance of the final choreo; they had found something else to exert their control over. You didn’t want to cry, so you grit your teeth and untied your hair, fingers smoothing out where the braids had been.

Bada.

In the bustle of the early morning you had almost forgotten you were meant to start your first practice with the entire dance crew today, with Bada as the lead choreographer ensuring everything played out exactly according to your collaborative vision. It had been almost two days since you had last seen her, yesterday being a day off for the both of you, and for some reason it felt like a lifetime.

You wanted to see her, but you weren’t sure if you could dance today.

You arrived at the studio about an hour later, right on time, with most of your makeup cleared from your face and dressed in joggers and a crop top. This time you were sporting a cap as well, hoping the dancers wouldn’t notice the fatigue etched on your face on your first day with them.

Everyone was already there. Some dancers stretching, others practicing and a few watching the recordings while in deep discussion with Bada. Her flannel shirt was bunched up at her elbows as she made grand gestures with her hands, explaining something to the dancers in front of her. As the sound of the door opening and closing filled the room, the tall girl perked up mid-sentence, shooting you a wide smile.

“Hey! I got you some coffee.” She spoke brightly, walking over to you in big strides as her loose braid fell off her shoulder. You had just finished bowing to everyone when you turned to Bada, feeling your chest swell at the sight of her. “How was the shoot?”

She must’ve noticed something. Perhaps it was the sag of your shoulder, the way you bit your lower lip or the exhaustion in your eyes; but her smile faltered slightly when she got a closer look.

“It went alright.” You spoke neutrally, unable to meet her eyes but adding a nod to come across as reassuring as possible. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Bada stood a bit helplessly but seemed to understand that prying any further would be futile. “Of course, it was my turn, after all.” She smiled carefully. “You wanna get started?”

“Let’s do that.” You agreed, hoping that dancing would get your mind off of things.

Bada gathered everyone together and gave a small speech, making a conscious effort to do all the talking so you could comfortably hide the swelling insecurity you felt deep in your chest. You nodded at the right times, smiled at the dancers (some of them peeking at you in awe) and tried to come across relaxed.

Once Bada finished talking, she called for everyone to get in position as she strode to the far end of the room, where she had the most optimal view. You moved to the front, right next to your trampoline, facing the mirror and vaguely took note of a tall guy with a buzzcut who now stood in the spot Bada did when you had been practicing with her. Something about her not being part of the dance anymore, even though you perfectly knew this was going to be the plan all along, made you feel even less secure.

You shook your limbs loose, trying to empty your head for the sake of the dancers who were all blind to your inner turmoil and instead incredibly excited to be here. You did not want to waste their time. Once again, you forced yourself into auto pilot.

The song started playing, bubbling synths building up to your first lines, and you danced. You danced as you had practiced with Bada, but weren’t able to envision the crowd in front of you. Instead you relied on muscle memory, which worked out well enough. Even when the tall guy was behind you for the duet, hips grazing yours, you didn’t feel very aware of your surroundings at all. Sometimes you all had to stop midway when Bada noticed that someone was offbeat or out of position, but you slid back into the moves easily. The team was strong, too. You danced the choreo once, twice, thrice and a fourth time. When you grabbed the guy’s collar, you pushed him back immediately, unlike what you had practiced with Bada, and finished your move.

Bada clapped her hands together with a cheer.

“That was solid, everyone!” She strode over, giving everyone a thumbs up. “Some things we have to smooth over, but we are way ahead on schedule. Let’s take five. I— Are you okay?”

You barely realized your own actions until you felt the warm tears run down your cheeks. You had sat down on the trampoline in such an unceremonious way, body shaking from exertion as you tried to hold back hiccups. Panic began crawling up your body and into your throat. Suddenly aware of the dancers seeing you in such a state, you took your cap off and held it in front of your face.

“Actually, since we are ahead on schedule, let’s make this a short day.” Bada’s authoritative voice declared to the entire room. The dancers nodded along nervously, glancing at your hunched figure with palpable worry. “Great work everyone, make sure to get home safe. Same time tomorrow.”

You croaked out a soft “Thank you, everyone” through your fingers, but your voice was barely audible. You couldn’t face them.

Footsteps rushed around the room, the dancers gathering their backpacks off the floor. You barely registered the hushed voices slowly echoing further and further away from you, until the door shut with finality; a lock sounding in place and silence reigning over the space.

Bada’s hands came to rest on your shoulders as you felt the trampoline sink with her added weight. Then she pulled you into her arms with a tenderness you had never experienced from anyone before. Your arms tightened around her frame in instinct, dropping your cap onto the floor, and your heart constricting painfully as you hid your face in her chest.

She didn’t speak as you hiccupped soundlessly, letting the exhaustion pour out of you with quivering shoulders. Bada’s hands traced comforting lines along your back, her cheek pressed against the top of your head as she waited for the trembling of your body to subdue. In turn, you tried to focus on the steady rise and fall of her chest, her breathing lulling you.

After ten minutes of complete silence, Bada was the one to speak in a hushed voice: “What happened?”

You glanced up at her, tears still running down your cheeks as you choked back a particularly pathetic sob. “I’m sorry…”

Bada let out an affronted gasp, bringing her hands up to cradle your face instead and letting her thumbs wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Please don’t apologize. Tell me what happened.”

“My team,” You began with a slurred speech, “They still don’t believe in me. They don’t think I can pull this off.”

Your voice sounded heartbroken: “They make sure to remind me every chance they get. My manager is certain I am going to embarrass the nation, because there is only one thing I can do and it’s not this. I can’t be sexy. I don’t have good ideas. And maybe they’re right! I don’t have the charisma to pull this off. My fans are going to hate it, because it’s not the person they wanted to support—” There was nothing you could do except keep going, like a faucet running, and Bada let you, “—I can’t even wear what I want. My visual board was cybercore inspired. I had a red PVC two piece outfit custom-made, but they put me in a pink dress and ballet shoes.” You added, horrified; not at the clothes, but at the clear disconnect between your team and you.

Bada, who was nodding along to your words with a serious expression up until that point, chuckled at your words, thumbs still catching tears. “Well I always thought you looked like a pretty princess, but that’s indeed a bit on the nose.”

The follow-up to your rant died in your throat, eyes widening at her words. Your brain was short circuiting. “You think I’m pretty?”

The taller girl scoffed at that, brows furrowing. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

“Why?” You asked, genuinely.

For a moment she gawked at you, deep in thought and searching your face for insincerity. Bada was unable to find it.

“It’s not the only thing I think of you.”

Something about the atmosphere in the room changed when she spoke, and you almost forgot why you were upset in the first place. She carefully tucked your hair behind your ears, her eyes staring into yours unblinkingly. It reminded you of the way she had looked at you during practice days prior, when you had pulled her close by her collar for the first time. Her attention on you was suffocating, but you were glad to be drowning.

You sucked in your lower lip for a split second, releasing it, and waited with bated breath for her to continue. Her eyes dropped immediately, following your movements. She slid one hand down to the crook of your neck, slowly, the tips of her fingers tracing along your skin and leaving shivers in their wake; her other hand curled under your chin with a loose grip, tilting your head back slightly. Your head felt so heavy you could only lean in closer, wanting more of something you couldn’t even put in words.

But as always with Bada, she seemed to know what you wanted before you could open your mouth and ask for it. She closed the distance, brushing her lips against yours in a soft peck, and it was when you realized she was also holding her breath.

Her thumb trailed along your jawline, breath fanning over your lips. “Is this okay?” She asked quietly. You placed your hands on her thighs to brace yourself, your own lightheadedness overwhelming you, and nodded.

There was a shadow of a smirk on her lips when she kissed you a second time; lips connected with more force this time before gliding together in tandem. She tilted your head to get impossibly closer to you, her hand moving from your chin to tangle her fingers into your hair and cradling the back of your head. When her lips parted and closed around your bottom lip, nipping eagerly, you inadvertently let out a soft noise at the warmth of it all which only seemed to spur her on further.

You curled your hands into the front of her shirt as her back straightened, crowding around you as if her goal was to subdue, the trampoline creaking underneath your shared weight. She seemed to relish in overpowering you, inhaling sharply through her nose when you parted your mouth for her further.

You felt the tentative prod of her tongue, and accepted. The wetness made you shiver as she swallowed your quiet gasps. The hand that was previously nestled against your neck slid lower, began exploring along the curve of your waist and feeling the bare skin your crop top couldn’t reach to hide.

She parted the kiss, and you let out a soft whine. Biting her lip in an attempt to hide her smile, but ultimately failing, her eyes were drinking you in. You could only imagine what you looked like as even Bada was flushed all over, chest heaving from excitement. Then, as if she was reading your mind, her eyes glanced over to the mirror in front of you.

Bada shifted her position behind you, running her fingers through your hair before ultimately placing her palm against the other side of your waist. Steadily, as if she were correcting a move during practice, she turned your body to face the mirror. At this rate you simply accepted the effect she had on you, and wordlessly obeyed her ministrations. She planted her feet on the floor, long legs on either side of you; and ultimately caged you in, nestling her chin into the crook of your neck. Her eyes never left the mirror.

She brushed some of your hair over your shoulder as if she were propping up a doll, and spoke in a hushed voice: “Look at yourself.”

The sight made you feel all the more dizzy. Through half-lidded eyes you barely recognized your own reflection; hair slightly mussed and lips swollen and lovebitten. Someone did that to you. Bada did that to you.

The taller girl, pressed up against you, placed a kiss on your shoulder, fingers running up and down your body and making the hairs on your arms stand straight in exhilaration. You loved the way she touched you, how it made you feel; as if she was tracing the lines on an art piece. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered against your shoulder, “people would kill to see you like this.”

The honesty in her voice made something in your stomach roll. “Bada…” You began, but you didn’t even know what you wanted to say.

“You have no idea how other people look at you.” Her hands cradled the small of your waist, fingertips digging into your hips. “So let me show you how they look at you.”

She began kissing up your shoulder, soft and warm presses of her lips, before parting her mouth against your neck with a tangible hunger that left you sighing. You tilted your head to the side to give her more room and every inch you freed, she swarmed eagerly. Her tongue swirled against a patch of skin, hand flattening on your lower stomach as the other traced higher and higher, along your ribcage, before inquisitive fingertips moved under the hem of your top. As she sucked a mark onto your skin, you clenched your thighs together at the familiar sensation between your legs. Your eyes slowly fell shut as she crept up higher, lips pressing right below your earlobe with a barely-there hum.

She whispered: “Keep looking at yourself.”

You obeyed bashfully, right when Bada reattached her lips to your skin. She had been tracing lines along the hem of your sports bra, enthralled with the way you shivered in her grasp, before slipping a hand under; her hand was warm as she kneaded your breast, but your nipples stiffened at the sensation all the same. You pushed out your chest to convey your delectation, and she rewarded you by sinking her teeth into your skin. Suddenly, with a swift movement, both her hands hoisted up the hem of your top and bra, and pulled it upwards, your breasts releasing from its confines. The cold air made them perk up and Bada’s hands cupped the underside.

She detached her lips from your skin with a wet sound before looking up at the mirror, taking you in with her saliva-slicked mouth agape.

“So pretty,” Bada muttered, bringing your breasts a little higher, “Are you sensitive here?” She wondered loudly before tracing her thumbs right below your nipples. Once again your legs squeezed together, feeling yourself throb from excitement, and Bada picked up on the hint with a wide smile. “You are.”

In your reflection you saw Bada bring her fingers up to your mouth, thumb pressing down on your bottom lip imploringly, and you opened your mouth. She slipped her digit past, pushing it back against your tongue and you sucked obediently. Her eyes were drilling into yours through your reflection, enthralled by how pliant you were under her care.

You released the digit with a wet ‘pop’ and Bada promptly brought it to your nipple, rubbing it in circular motions as her other hand continued to knead your other breast. A quiet moan escaped you, chest rising into her touch and Bada giggled, pressing another kiss on your shoulder. Your own hands ached to touch her, but she kept you firmly locked between her legs; instead you squeezed her upper thighs, feeling her shapes through the baggy cargo she was sporting.

“Give me a kiss.” She commanded, and you immediately twisted your neck to capture her lips.

It was all teeth, wet noises echoing through the room as your tongue swirled against hers; the taller girl groaning into your mouth at the sheer force you exerted. She gave your nipples a pinch before rubbing her fingers over them repeatedly, and she swallowed your breathless moans greedily. You dug your nails into her thighs as she cupped your breasts again, her tongue slipping out of your mouth to trail along your bottom lip instead. Your head was chanting her name, getting drunk on the near delirious attention she gave you. Tilting your head back even further, you connected your lips again even though the angle was uncomfortable. You were starting to feel desperate, hips lightly rocking back against the firmness of her body as Bada sucked down on your tongue.

One of her hands released your breast and trailed down the expanse of your stomach, once again breaking the kiss and instead opt to look at you in the mirror. Her fingers found the knot of your joggers as your eyes met in the reflection, and she pulled on the string; untying it.

“Okay?” Bada inquired meaningfully, and you nodded much faster than you intended. “Let me hear you say it.” The tone of her voice, which was otherwise so gentle and quiet, made your full body shiver.

“I want it.” You spoke breathlessly, squirming impatiently between her legs as her fingers finally slipped down your pants.

She trailed along the sweatband of your underpants before cupping your heat over the fabric, fingers pressing against your folds inquisitively. Her eyes never left yours, quietly measuring your reactions. Unwittingly your thighs clamped around her wrist, breath hitching in your throat as she began to caress you with a touch so gentle it didn’t fit the precarious position you both were in.

“You’re so wet.” Bada spoke coyly, smirking at the way your eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. She began rubbing circles over your covered folds, feeling your wetness spread as if on command. Your breathing turned into whining, subconsciously grinding back against her hand.

She removed her hand much to your distress, until you realized what she wanted: Bada began tugging the fabric of both your joggers and underpants down as far as she could, before giving your hip a commanding pat. You raised your hips to assist her ministrations, and she pulled the clothing down past your knees before you kicked them off fully.

Your thighs were pressed together when you got back in place and suddenly felt self-conscious at how exposed you were despite your own eagerness. Bada wasn’t having it: her eyes were taking in your figure, hands immediately coming down to smooth along your thighs. Then, she squeezed tightly and wrenched your thighs wide apart, making you expose yourself for her. Before you could instinctively close them, her long legs hooked over your ankles, forcefully keeping them in place. All of it only made you throb harder.

“You don’t want to know how often I’ve been thinking about this these past few days.” Her hands smoothing along your sides in marvel, cupping your breasts once more. The tip of her nose pressed against the shell of your ear. “How many times I’ve watched those recordings and imagined you, exactly like this.” Her fingers fit into your mouth once again, and you sucked on them, letting your tongue swirl along the digits as if you were starving for it. “I think I lost count.”

Her confession made you moan around her fingers, shivers running down your spine. She scooted back ever so slightly, pulling your hips back with her unoccupied hand until it was the angle she needed, and then dropped it between your legs. Her fingers spread your folds and she sucked in a breath, completely mesmerized by your reflection. You were still swallowing around her fingers and she hummed encouragingly, hand cupping your vagina and spreading your wetness across your heat.

She removed her fingers from your mouth and you caught your breath, fingers digging into her upper thighs as you braced yourself. As one hand kept your folds spread, the other, spit-slicked, began rubbing slow circles against you. You gasped at the sensation, mumbling her name in amazement. You raised your hand to the back of her head; grabbing a hold of her braid to simply have a hold of something, but it earned you a particularly sweet noise from the girl behind you. Your hips rocked back against her movements trying to find more friction in the right place, and Bada slowly sped up, moving her wrist up and down to try and find the spot that did it for you. Her lips pressed against the back of your neck so tenderly, and something about the dichotomy between that and the way she was touching you between your legs made your eyes roll back; lids closing as you thrusted back against her hand.

You didn’t understand how she was able to build up to that familiar knot in your stomach so soon, and it almost made you feel embarrassed, until you realized Bada was savoring every second of it. Her eyes never left your form, as if she were studying just another choreography, lips parted in an awestruck way. You had long foregone the urge to keep quiet, vocalizing exactly what she was doing to you: You let a particularly loud moan leave you when she rubbed along your most sensitive spot. Trying to pull more sounds from you, she pressed against your clit with more force and rubbed faster. Your hips could only chase her touch as your lower stomach constricted.

Bada brought her hand up to her own lips and lapped at her fingers, effectively pausing her motions for a split second and thus drawing a broken whine from you; both because her hand wasn’t where you needed it to be and also because she had no qualms about having you in her mouth. It didn’t last long: she hushed you soothingly as she put her hand back where you felt it belonged and used the added wetness to add faster friction against your clit. Your head rolled back and you tugged at her braid, pulling an attractive groan from the girl behind you.

You weren’t far away anymore. Your lower stomach was unbearably tight with desire and you were a gyrating, frantic mess against her hand while her fingers rubbed against you in vertical swipes, her name falling from your lips repeatedly as if you were reciting a prayer.

You managed to utter an “I’m close”, and Bada crowded against you before you could start begging her for release. “Come for me.” She demanded, and then immediately captured your mouth in a desperate kiss, teeth clashing together while she drank your sweet moans.

As if on cue, the tension in your stomach imploded and you gave her braid a sharp pull. You gasped into her mouth, no longer kissing each other but rather breathing each other's air, as your orgasm rippled through you.

You felt your whole body quiver and shake in pleasure as Bada led you through your release, thighs trembling despite the hold the choreographer’s legs had on you. Her fingers hadn’t left your core, but the rubbing slowed down until you were gasping at the overstimulation, yet unwilling to make her hands leave you. As if she read your mind her movements came to a halt, but she pressed her palm against you; almost possessively. She planted kisses along the side of your throat, whispering praises against your skin as you caught your breath.

Once you had the rise and fall of your chest under control, her arms curled around your waist in a fond embrace, and you turned your head to look directly at her. She had already been staring at you, meeting your eyes with a bashful smile. The two of you laughed at each other, and Bada pressed your foreheads together.

“That,” You mumbled, eyes falling shut as you relished in her open affection: “Was amazing, thank you.”

“Was happy to do it.” She responded playfully, rubbing the tip of your noses together affectionately.

“Will this happen every time I get self-deprecating?”

“I definitely intend to do this more often, but you could also just ask nicely.” Bada retorted with a smirk before pecking your lips. You giggled, putting your hands over hers and leaning back into the embrace.

After several more shared kisses and hushed whispers, both of you decided to get a move on: you were starting to get cold in your exposed state so Bada urged you to get up. She helped you step back in your clothes, a smug self-satisfied grin never leaving her face when she noticed the unsteady wobble in your legs.

When you pulled your bra and top back over your breasts, Bada pouted. You gave her a playful shove but she caught your arms instead, bringing them around her neck as her own enveloped your waist.

“Wanna grab dinner?” Her eyes were round and hopeful.

“I would love that.” You replied, and gave her a kiss.

As the both of you tidied up the practice room and gathered your things, Bada listing off food suggestions in the background, your eyes slid to the table at the front of the room.

A familiar device remained perched on the edge, a small green light lighting up proudly.

“Hey, Bada.”

“Hm?”

“Camera’s still recording.”

She stumbled over looking mortified, snatching the device off the table and rewinding haphazardly.

“Oh, fuck.”

#bada lee x reader #swf2 #bada lee #bada lee smut #street woman fighter 2 #dalla!writes #im sorry in advance bhahaha #idk what i did

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darqx · 14 days

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HEEEY MACARENA (ALRIGHT!)

Here's some long overdue BP and HH asks :) I tend to combine the two since there's not as many as the RADs, so this starts with BP and then moves into HH/Gen qs.

MUAH ~ (I actually doodled this some time last year for fun and whimsy, based on those long mouth kiss meme pics XD)

A very quick overview of these types!

Vescordem: Maneaters/cannibals, excessively tall and strong.

Aleores: Minor dealmakers (goods and services). Jaw can unhinge and has venomous bite.

Sollicio: Major dealmakers - soul stealing ability. Often very good looking, has ichor powers.

Voxter: Ability to project 'thoughts' into someone else's mind - you ever have an intrusive thought? Same concept. All have a unique mark across the top part of their face.

Caumacies: Maneaters/cannibals, very strong. Has a third eye which sees only in heat vision - rarely opened simultaneously with normal eyes.

Hmm M or MA15 i think 🤔

You know, i actually have an idea for a game that has nothing to do with anything I'm currently doing XD One day i'll actually have time to make it, maybe. But anyway currently my actual project is i'm planning on making a comic \o/

I AM PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE that i have thumbnailed like 70 pages of this bloody thing and i'm still only in the first quarter of the planned chapters lol OTL Once i finish thumbing the chapter I'm on I plan to go back and render the pages properly before starting to post them :D

...which should hopefully give me a buffer as i repeat the process for the next chapters |D

You know, the concept of my characs being comfort characs for someone will never get old for me. It just tickles me pink ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ This answer will have two levels to it.

It's fine to RP or ask blog with Rire - he's one of my more "known" characs thanks to BTD so as long as credit is given (and it's made clear I'm not running the blog so it's not canon) then it's cool.

I'd prefer if no ask/RP blogs are created for any of my other BP or HH characs, as they are not as known yet. This may be revisited once i actually get the BP comic out but for now it's a no, sorry! (Though, if you are RPing in like...a private Discord with other friends who know who the characs are then I'm a bit more lenient with that.)

The reason for the BP/HH level is that ages ago when I had started establishing my own characs more, I randomly happened to find a forum where someone was RPing as Izm and .D but no one else knew who the characs were and so they clearly thought the RPer was the original artist and creator. Said RPer was not dissuading anyone of that notion. That has stuck with me for forever because at the time i never anticipated that someone would...actually try and do that with an OC. Like, bro srsly?!

One pet peeve for everyone:

.D: Willfully stupid people

Izm: .D smoking. He could care less if anyone else smokes but .D is not allowed on his watch

Marcus: Having decisions made for him without his input

Zeke: "How's the weather up there?"

Wei Ren: When people think he can't understand English cos he has an accent and so they deliberately speak slower and louder

Geez Caleb why are you damn RUDE

Here's one i prepared earlier! 😌

I'm not sure why you included Marcus as a demon, he's a human lol.

HH/More Gen

There are clubs which are created by students but need approval from the adults to exist.

HH is one of the better boarding schools which generally turn out successful alumni. The "obvious problems" we see are not actually obvious lol.

He doesn't need such manipulations.

Thanks! I hope you are inspired to go forth and create stuff! :D

One of the only perks of being a prefect at HH, really :d

Absolutely not lol

↓

4. These types of qs are always amusing to me only because you guys expect me to know but i absolutely do not XDD. Do normal people actually have a fave animal?? I dont even have a fave animal!! Anyway offshoot aside sorry that i can't even randomly assign anything, but if you are interested here is what they might be AS animals lol.

They actually don't have names because they were randomly designed NPCs i drew as like, placeholders |D;

Not including Rire or Nurse Isla:

.D is asexual, Izm is bisexual, and everyone else is straight probably. Caleb and Desmond are violently straight (as in Des is like very 90s stoner bro adamantly vocal about being straight and Caleb will actually try and break your neck for insinuating anything).

I have some female characs but I dont draw them that often as they are more side characs in BP and HH. The ones ive's drawn at least once are Isla (who looks like this, also doodled above), Tish (Des's sister) and Kenzie and Kelly (Zeke's sisters).

Every once in a blue moon i get an ask saying this but whenever i go to check nothing is wrong, so...nothing is wrong they do work |D; As the age old tech saying goes have you tried turning it off and on again? :d

Aren't those kind of things supposed to be...based on yourself??

#battle priest #hedonehigh #art #doodle #answer dump #answer #reply #long post #sz

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adviceformefromme · 21 days

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GLOW-UP LIKE NEVER BEFORE SERIES

Ladies, we are here. This is the beginning of your glow-up like never before by 2025. We are not sleeping on ourselves in the remaining four months of this year. There is no more putting yourself second, wishing and wanting to be a better version of yourself, because this is your opportunity to show up for you. I will be providing the steps and guidance so stay tuned, its going to be a journey. One that kicks off today.

youtube

Week 1: CREATING THE VISION

This week is for getting into the energy of how you want to feel come January 2025. The vision should excite you, you want to feel like your wildest dreams are possible and this where you lean into faith, trust and imagination.

Step 1: On the first page of your new journal script 3 pages in present tense of what your life looks and feels like on January 1st 2025. You want to get into the small details, using all your senses, what you can hear, see, smell, feel, go all in. Write as much as you can to embody the version of you in your highest expression. It might seem crazy to write this, especially in such a short amount of time, but once you start moving correctly timelines can easily be collapsed. I am a walking testimony of this, as I went from sharing a room in the UK to moving into a spacious 2-bed open view apartment overseas, within four weeks. Did I believe? Yes. Had I been doing all the steps I am sharing with you? Yes. By scripting your life, as crazy and whacky as it may seem you are moving your dreams from thought to reality. A dose of faith is also required for step 1.

Step 2: Vision board, this is where you get to have fun. Find those images on Pinterest that make you feel ‘omg is this my actual fucking life *screams internally* ‘. Again, no playing small. If you want the G-wagon and you’re driving the Honda, add it to your board, if you’re wanting to write a book, add a New York Times bestseller sticker to your vision board, bring your dreams to life. Save to desktop, screensaver, phone Home Screen. You want to see your vision board at the very least a few times per week.

Step 3: Write supporting affirmations for your new vision life. I am, I feel, it feels so good to….Lean into the feelings, be creative. As you write your affirmations a minimum of five, you want to record these on your phone and loop them before bed. You can extend these affirmations, and turn it into a rampage - this is where you really speak life into yourself, going into more details. Your recording can be 1 min - 5 mins. It doesn’t have to be crazy long, the main point is to keep it simple and inspiring. You want to feel inspired when you listen, your own voice, speaking life into your dreams, declaring them. Once you’ve got the recording - LOOP IT. You want this on loop when you’re out on walks this week, when you’re overthinking, but most importantly before you go to bed. Leave it on loop overnight. The goal is to do this every single night for one week.

Step 4: In the back of your journal in short hand write your 1-3 top goals. It might be earn £10k per month, move into your dream apartment, work for x company. Whatever it is, in very simple words write them, 1-3. And do this EVERY SINGLE DAY. If you skip write it in your phone notes or on the nearest piece of paper. Set a reminder on your phone, because this is such a simple step to manifesting that actually WORKS.

I know it might seem like some effort to do steps 1-4, but do you want to live the life of your dreams and invest in your expansion and be so proud of who you are come 1st Jan 2025, or do you want to scroll like a cabbage, and watch everyone else live their dream life, and feel like another year, another of unfulfillment ? Your task, put 30mins - 1 hour aside today to do the above. Homework for the rest of the week, read your affirmations, listen to your recording daily before bed and write those goals down!

Coming next: Week 2: Living by your values + creating space for your dream life…

#manifestyourreality #levelupjourney #levelup #lawofattraction #manifesting #levelup confidence lawofattraction powerofthemind #growthmindset #adviceformefrommeanswered #manifestingmindset #manifest #advice for women #advice for life #advice for artists #Youtube

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wingedcat13 · 1 month

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Tell No Lies

[Part One of the third Synovus installment.]

Living on a tropical island didn’t mean the weather was always sunny.

Your island wasn’t in quite the right spot to really get the worst of the monsoon season - too far on the eastern side of the Pacific - but you did still get plenty of rainstorms. When that happened, your group of minions battened down the hatches, triple checked the generators, and usually played cards or other bored games. Sorry, board games.

Sometimes you played, sometimes you didn’t. You weren’t playing this time, because you were catching up on some reading. Sans costume, slumped sideways in a chair, one hand on the cup of hot chocolate you had requested and immediately forgotten about.

Then your phone had dinged.

That was weird, because during storms you didn’t usually have service - technology hadn’t yet beaten Mother Nature entirely. But there were the underwater cables that had been set up to provide internet access, and emergency calls.

And that was more than enough for an entity like Optix to get through when it wanted to. Even when your phone was set to silent.

With a small sigh, you had set the book aside and reached for the screen. An email from Optix: the subject line, in all caps, “INVITATION.”

Intriguing.

You opened it, scrolling past the gold-adorned letterhead to the digital party invitation. You read it. You deleted it. You reluctantly pulled it from the trash folder to read it again. You forced yourself to read it a third time.

‘Thank you for informing me.’ You replied to Optix, before sliding the phone away. The book came to rest comfortably against your chest, pages down, probably doing all kinds of damage to the spine. You stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the present to alternate between stewing over the possibilities of the future and miring yourself in the past.

Eventually, your field of vision had been interrupted by a slow-moving face, drifting in from your peripheral. One eyebrow raised, only inches from your own face, it continued moving slowly and smoothly past where most people would have reached a limit.

“Dude.” Alexandria said, “You haven’t even blinked in like. Two minutes.”

Your erstwhile ‘apprentice’ was using her abilities to float over you. Wearing her suit, which had been modified recently to include panels of bright color against the near-black gray you’d initially designed, she looked sleek and surreal. And older than seventeen, though maybe you just couldn’t judge ages past ‘young’ anymore.

“Hello, Menace.” You’d greeted her placidly. “How goes the Great Pacific Vandalism Project?”

Alexandria beamed, and floated away an inch or so to a more comfortable speaking range. She’d finally gotten a better handle on equilibrium in flight, so her gestures as she talked no longer caused her to wobble in whatever direction she indicated. “It went great! We finally managed to get that CEO.” Her grin widened, “Right in the middle of a press conference.”

“It was satisfying.” A different voice had agreed, as another costumed figure moved into your general field of view. This one didn’t lean over you, but rather settled into the chair opposite, and helped themself to your hot chocolate. Cold chocolate, by now.

A bit of concentration had changed that, as the thief raised the mug to consider it. Their dark blue form-fitting suit had changed in recent times as well, now featuring more delicate details around the neck and wrists. Not quite scales, not quite flourishes, not quite vines, picked out in a slightly darker shade. The short cape at the hips now had flared ends, rather than a pointed tip. It had an elegance that Menace’s suit lacked.

Or perhaps that was the wearer?

“Naiad.” You’d been certain that your tone hadn’t changed. “Welcome back.”

Minerva had lifted the stolen mug in salute, and allowed you a trace of a smile. Crime agreed with her - even if she only rarely agreed with it. Once the straight-laced, impeccable hero Athena, she was now known much more widely as the Naiad: a bioterrorist with a strong cult following among ecology groups.

Over the past year, she had very publicly and very precisely targeted companies who were responsible for much of the pollution going into the Pacific Ocean. Working alone at first, then allowing Menace to join her, she had made trips to the great garbage patches that floated in the ocean’s wide expanse, and returned their contents very directly to sender.

Cars, homes, persons, factories and distribution centers (while they were closed and no one was present; employees were innocent until proven guilty) were all fair game. The only way to be sure of immunity from the Naiad’s attacks was to publicly document cleanup efforts, make donations to the groups who did the same, and implement vast reductions in pollution.

It was good mother/daughter bonding time for the two of them. You knew your presence would only overshadow their efforts, so you simply offered aid and tips during the planning phases. And there was the standing unspoken fact that you would appear to bail them out, if it ever became necessary. So far, it had not been necessary.

Minerva had even admitted, grudgingly, that this new angle on life was, at times, fun.

And that, really, plus the trace of a smile, is what had given you a terrible idea.

—------------------------------

What was even more terrible was that Minerva had agreed.

She stood now at your shoulder, just a step behind, while your invitation was inspected by a man who had gotten very tense at your approach. His costume was patterned in pale yellows and purples, a strip of rainbow draped over his collarbones. You couldn’t make out much expression behind the mask, but you didn’t really need to when you could hear the material creaking as he prepared to square up.

“I am… confused.” He allowed, considering the printed invitation. “You - do know this is a hero’s wedding, right?”

“I’m aware.” You answer flatly, the helmet giving you a wonderfully crisp punctuation. You’ve made only the slightest concessions to the event’s formality in the form of a nicer, gilt-edged cape with decorative clasps, and white rose corsages at your wrists to indicate your intention of peace. “I don’t begrudge you the confusion, Sun Dog. I will be grudging if you attempt to deny me entry.”

Sun Dog hesitated a moment more. You really didn’t want to hurt the man, no one you knew of did - which was probably why he was the bouncer at this particular event. It was hard to hate the person whose sole job was disaster response and relief.

Just when you were resigning yourself to this going poorly at the gate, Naiad leaned forward over your shoulder. Her costume had been adapted to include a floor-length skirt in a blue ombre, slit to the thigh on the sides and revealing the usual suit’s leggings beneath, and her arms were bare to the shoulder except for jewelry in the places of her normal accents. She’d pinned her hair up with sea-shell and coral pins, with deep purple pearls for earrings. You stopped breathing, attempting to be as still as possible to prevent any of those decorations catching on part of your ensemble.

“Parhelion. We’ll cause no trouble.”

The name clearly meant something to him. Sun Dog’s body language changed, shifting rapidly through a few shades of things you didn’t know him well enough to identify. None of them were hostile, though, so you gave the man his moment to process.

“I… had my suspicions, but…” Sun Dog shook his head, “Sorry. Not the time or the place. Glad you’re alright - Naiad, is it?” At her confirming nod, he continued, “Anyway, the invitation is legitimate, I’m just surprised you actually came. Uh. Guest book is ahead, gift table to the left. Good luck?”

You nodded regally and moved further into the venue, gaudily bedecked in white and taupe and glittering silver and gold. At the guest book, you confined your signature at first to the simple stylized S that was popular among bored schoolchildren. Naiad signed more gracefully, and pressed the pen back into your hand. You contemplated stealing it to make a point, but added the remaining letters to your name in a normal script instead.

Naiad was also the one to place your gift - a small black box with a silver ribbon - among the bright and shiny assortment of well-wishes, though that was more a matter of practicality. If you’d put it there, everyone would’ve assumed it was a bomb.

And the entire time, you were surrounded by people in costume. Some had made little to no alteration to their standard getups. Others had clearly commissioned outfits specifically for this event. Those who were part of the wedding party were all in what felt to you like mockery of their usual garb; the same shapes and silhouettes, but in shades of champagne and adorned with glitter, their masks or helms altered to match each other.

You didn’t stand out as much as you might’ve. There were heroes who dressed in dark colors and full-coverage helmets. It was the cape that really made your silhouette distinctive, which was why you’d shortened it from its usual wide floor-length to a slimmer, knee-length drape. And besides, who would invite Synovus to a wedding? Particularly this wedding?

Abruptly, you wished that changing your outfit hadn’t felt like so much of a concession, a surrender. You wished that you could’ve hemmed and hawed between narrow or wide skirts, short or long sleeves, backless or high necked. Layers of chiffon, of deep blue with tiny flickering gems in blues and greens and purples, a clear blue sash at the waist, or perhaps a shawl around the shoulders -

But that kind of wishful thinking is what got you here in the first place. The moment passes. Your suit is familiar, fitting, and practical. The rosettes at your wrists feel like chains.

You hear the first whispers from one of the bright costumes around you. Is that Synovus?

You turn to Naiad, “We should find our seats.”

—-------------------------------

You were, rather mercifully, seated to the back and one side, in a portion of the room not quite as well lit. The set up was rather traditional, with everyone split down rows, and the aisle in the center. You were on the bride’s side, and couldn’t honestly have said what the name of the groom was.

A few of the heroes had taken to eyeing you. Before they could investigate or act on their suspicions blindly (you knew which one you thought was more likely), the music started.

And the lights went out.

Your hand found Naiad’s in the darkness, and you lifted it to your helmet so she could feel you shake your head. Not me. Your power was quiet, the shadows entirely natural. You remained still, watching the attendees shift and begin to whisper. Most of them must have been warned ahead of time - prudent, considering how many of these people you’d fought. How many of them had you given a fear of the dark?

When a light appeared, it was not natural, nor electric. Nor was it yours. A pale silver glow began at the foot of the aisle, illuminating from beneath one high heel. Then another. On the next step, the first light began to float, turning from a spot on the floor into a small orb of light. Others joined it, like so many small sparkling stars.

In this way the bride, the hero Dazzler, made her way down the aisle.

You had to admit, it was a stunning display. On occasion, one of the lights would twirl around her, granting tantalizing glimpses of her dress and playing off the crystals in her hair. The pale silver glow was soft and alluring, and in the darkness of the room, it made her seem as though she were a deity of creation; the steps she took forming reality in her wake.

At the altar, she paused, to hand off her bouquet. Then she turned to face the crowd, raised her hands, and called all of the globes of light to encircle her and the man in a suit who was presumably her groom. They formed the shape of a heart, then faded as the room’s lights came back on.

Everyone oohed and awed appropriately. Naiad shifted, and you realized you still held her hand. Without conscious thought, your grip had tightened. Abruptly, you let go.

The two of you sat in silence as the ceremony began.

—----------------------------------

Once everyone had moved to the tables, you actually thought you might get through this without being officially recognized by anyone other than Sun Dog. That was both a relief, and mildly insulting.

Naiad had given you questioning glances since you had left the ceremony, but you’d yet to provide an answer. You’d warned her before you arrived that you would speak as little as possible once inside the venue - your voice would certainly give you away. Naiad had said that was the consequence of being a monologuer. You’d protested, vociferously, because it was true.

But as the guests were mingling, the open bar being besieged, the instant your shoulders started to relax, there was a high pitched shriek from somewhere behind you. Not a shriek of terror or anger or surprise. One of joy.

Of course.

The syllables of your name filled the air, broken into three and a half parts. There was a frantic rustle of cloth and the rapid clicking of heels. Then arms wrapped around your middle, and a heavily perfumed, glittery weight slammed into you.

You, very judiciously, did not move.

“I’m so glad you came!” Dazzler gushed, moving around in front of you. She let her arm trail as she did, so that she never lost contact with you. You felt like you were being circled by a shark. Up close, the makeup and glitzy hair-pieces felt like an attack. “You never RSVP'd! I’d almost given up hope!”

You still had not moved, even to turn your head. Dazzler pouted at you, and you tried to ignore that you knew she was just looking at herself in your helmet’s reflection. Around you, half the guests had abandoned their chairs or their place in line at the bar, half-starting, ready to leap into action. Every single pair of eyes in the place was fixed on the two of you.

And you knew that this was exactly why Dazzler had invited you. You’d known when you received the invitation. You knew when you decided to attend. Because this kind of bullshit was exactly why you’d harassed her into moving to a different continent.

“Many felicitations, Diane.” You reply, as though she isn’t doing her damnedest to make a scene. As though she’d cornered you in a hallway, instead of the middle of the banquet hall. “I get invited to so few parties - I can’t imagine why.”

Laughing, Dazzler moves to swat you on the arm, and transitions from that to looping her arm through yours. “Oh, Syn. People just don’t know you, that’s all! Come on, say hello to everyone with me, it’ll-”

You have no intention of being dragged off by Dazzler to become arm candy. But before you can find a way to elegantly maneuver out of the situation, Naiad is stepping between you.

“Perhaps things have changed since my wedding.” Without a filter, Naiad’s voice is not far off from Athena’s. She’s taking a terrible risk to do this, that someone will identify her by her past persona and its questionable end. But Athena never took quite that tone of condescension. “But greeting the guests is typically something one does with their groom.”

“Oh.” Dazzler steps away, a tiny frown creasing her brow. She’s not used to having competition. Not used to being thwarted by anyone who isn’t you. Still, she recovers quickly, laughing again and holding the back of one hand to her forehead. “Of course! With all the preparations and everything, I forgot there’s so many steps! You must remember, right? All the decisions you have to make, and then there’s so many people here -”

Again, Naiad cuts her off, “Then we wouldn’t want to monopolize so much of the bride’s time. Happiness - and many years of it - to you both.”

She raises an arm to your back, and automatically, you reciprocate. It makes you a unified front, automatically reinforcing her words. You know everyone here will remember this. Naiad is now permanently associated with Synovus.

“Be well, Dazzler.” You add, so no one will think this is some kind of catfight you allowed to happen. You’re not sure that thought was coherent, actually, but saying something seemed important at the time.

Together, you and Naiad turn away, moving to your assigned seats in a corner. The rest of the room is silent, except for the music no one thought to pause. Dazzler’s bridesmaids - most of them heroes themselves - swarm her, whispering furiously.

Dazzler raises her voice to be heard by everyone when she responds, “Oh, we used to date.”

———————————

“I dislike that I can’t even call that woman a menace without besmirching my daughter’s name.” Naiad said, some time later.

The two of you had sat in silence while the room slowly restored itself to a cautious order. No one had forgotten you were there, but some seemed to accept that you were here peacefully. Given that you were not going to remove your helmet, and therefore could not actually consume anything, both you and Naiad had eaten before you came. This also spared the nervous waitstaff the task of servicing your - otherwise empty - table.

You let out a long, slow exhale, below what your helmet will verbalize. “Calling her anything will please her, in the end. Any attention is good attention, and if it lets her play the virtuous victim, all the better.”

Naiad glances back at you, gauging something. “She fooled you?”

You wince, attempt to communicate something solely by facial expression, and fail utterly because you’re wearing a helmet. How to describe what you’d seen in Dazzler once?

“I…. Wanted very badly to be someone worth effort. She caught me by surprise. It wasn’t until much later I realized she actually believed….” You break off, grimacing.

Naiad’s head tilts in a way that suggests she’s raising her brows at you. “Believed you loved her?”

“No - no, I knew she thought that. I wasn’t - I was young.”

These had been the days before Rosie, before Doll. Before there had been anyone but you, still running from and hunting any of Sunhallow’s surviving lieutenants. Nineteen and alone and then suddenly there was someone telling you otherwise, someone with a power of light so like and so different from your father’s.

“She felt.” You say finally, “That we were… destined. Her light, to my darkness. That I was… tameable.”

It had taken some years of retrospection to put the pieces together, but you had. Dazzler had wanted a tame villain; proof she was worth loving enough that it erased your identity in the process. Justification for everything she was, because she was the ‘good’ half. The ‘pure’ one.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Naiad mutters. She raises one hand, as though to pinch the bridge of her nose, but settles for bracing against the mask’s thick material.

“That too. But as I said - we were young.” Your voice was dry, and a little bit weary. Dazzler exhausted you, even now.

“Does she-?” Naiad cuts herself off, looking to re-affirm that Dazzler (and her groom) are on the other side of the room. Still, she lowers her voice, “Does she… know, then?”

Your laugh is bitter, but it is a laugh, “No. No, I got away before she learned all my secrets.”

You tap the table, curving your hand to make a small alcove where only you and Naiad can see your palm, and summon a small flicker of light. Then you let your hand fall flat again, extinguishing it.

“I am complete without her, by whatever metric you care to use.”

Naiad nods, accepting that explanation. There had been glasses of water on the table when you arrived, and she’d pulled one closer to claim it. You can tell she’s thinking by the way she traces its rim. You can tell she’s upset in some way by the way the water in the glass rises to follow her movement.

“How’d you explain the tattoo?” She asks mildly.

“She never saw it. I think she believes I have scars I don’t want anyone to see.”

A tattoo was a kind of scar, in a way, so it hadn’t been a lie. And it had fit with the image of you Dazzler so wanted, for you to have been broken and abused. Ashamed.

Naiad narrows her eyes, “If you were lovers, then-“

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, my dear.”

She leans back in her seat, taking the glass with her. She sips at the water and surveys the crowd. You pretend not to be surveying her. Dazzler was not a secret, per se, but the details of how you’d felt about it are not something you’ve ever shared.

You need to stop giving Minerva your secrets. Particularly when she doesn’t realize how many of them she holds.

The music is upbeat and space-filling. Loud enough that conversations are confined to their groups, but not loud enough you have to shout to be heard. You’re pretty sure this song is on one of Menace’s playlists - something by Chappell Roan.

“Synovus, why are we here?” Naiad asks finally. You willingly give up any attempt to identify the song to consider the question.

“Because I’ve never been to a wedding. Well, no, that’s not quite true. I’ve never been a guest at a wedding.”

Naiad’s gaze drifts to the middle distance, and she downs the remaining water like she wishes it was something stronger. You silently slide another glass over towards her - they set the tables for six apiece.

“Whose wedding were you in?” She asks, making conversation.

“Mine. Technically.” It’s a long story.

Minerva - no, Naiad, you need to think of her that way in the field - had been toying with the stem of the second glass. Now she stopped, becoming very still. At first, your attention pivots to your surroundings, searching for the threat.

Then Naiad says, flatly, “Explain.”

“It wasn’t - like this.” You wave a hand. “I - this was after Dazzler. There wasn’t - I’m not still married.”

“Synovus.”

“It lasted a week, as we’d agreed at the start, the identities were fake, and we swore to never speak of it to each other again.”

It had been a last grasp at normalcy. You didn’t have a social security number, you hadn’t had a community in which to undergo rites of passage that weren’t geared towards Sunhallow. You’d never been to a public school or a prom or a fucking football game. But getting Vegas married and having a honeymoon, then immediately divorcing?

Well that you could do.

“Who did you even do this with?” Naiad asks, flabbergasted and possibly appalled.

“Ah.” You wish you could sip water, to buy yourself time. “Tallflawes.”

Naiad’s outraged, “What?” Is drowned out, however, by the sound of shattering glass, as a blurred figure drops through the roof.

———————————

It’s a bad idea to crash a wedding. Lots of people, most of them easily rallied to at least half the attendees’ defense. It’s worse when more than half the guests have superpowers.

The good news was that no one had to worry about the falling glass - there were four or five different barriers flung up immediately.

The bad news was that it was absolute fucking chaos for five minutes. You hope no one attending had epilepsy.

You, of course, had no intention of intervening. This wasn’t your doing, you were going to be blamed for it regardless, so you might as well enjoy the show. But then you’d recognized the invader as Prodigy. And he was alone.

And the only thing he was yelling, over and over, was your name.

So you stood, removing the white rosettes at your wrists as casually as someone adjusting cuff links. You called to the shadows you’d been keeping at bay. You dialed up the volume of your helmet’s speaker.

And as everyone in the room except Naiad - including Prodigy - found themselves wrapped in solid darkness, you bellowed into the room,

“BE SILENT.”

You also had a small loop of shadow kill the music, because you never did a thing by halves.

As the room suddenly quieted, Prodigy came to drift in the middle of the space. The hum of his hoverboard was the loudest thing in the room at the moment. He wasn’t even struggling against your bonds.

And when he neither complained nor cracked a smile, only looking at you with wide wild eyes and tendrils standing on end, you felt your stomach drop. You knew even before he said, “They’re coming, Synovus! My homeworld - they sent a ship!”

——————————————

[I did say this was the one where they went to space. Buckle up, everybody, it’s time to dance!

Which Chappell Roan song is playing? Whichever one you personally believe is funniest and/or most tragic. Tag it!

Links to Ao3.]

#synoverse #synovus #Tell No Lies #Personally I liked the idea of the song being Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl #but I see potential in other options #Also #what are people’s thoughts on Dazzler?

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honeytonedhottie · 10 months

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how to make changes when change is terrifying⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪷

you can have a plan for ur life, a pinterest vision board, an agenda but without the bravery to execute it, its all useless. most ppl are afraid to take risks or leave their comfort zones which is why they'll continue to experience the same monotonousness of their everyday lives. fear which might be seemingly catastrophic is actually quite trivial. we spend all our days dreaming about a different life but we cling so tightly to our comfort zone. honestly its a miserable place to be so hopefully this post helps to eliminate the fear of change.

by default human beings r wired to seek stability and predictability so ur fear of the unknown is so natural and everyone has it. everyone.

take a look inside urself and find the root as to WHY ur scared of change or why u dont seek change. everyones reasons will be different but its important to know the root cause.

separate urself from situations and people who perpetuate the version of urself that u no longer desire to be. cut off friends who hate on u for being urself, friendship isn't scarce so dont let fear of losing friends hold u back from change and being ur authentic self

in that same breath, when u shift blame ur ego is satisfied. "oh, i can't change and be my authentic self and live the life of my dreams because of my family/friends" BUT your life is YOUR responsibility.

building competence = building confidence. ur more likely to be confidently speaking/doing something when ur competent at it. this is why self investment is always the best thing to invest in. it has the highest ROI (return on investment)

TAKING ACTION : pursue fear

expose urself to the fear, expose urself to new opportunities, expose urself to unknown waters and you'll build a tolerance towards it, therefore strengthening ur immunity to it.

take risks often, make moves often PRACTICE DISCOMFORT. you are in charge. its not anyone else's life but ur own and ur directly responsible for ur life.

CHANGE :

change ur routines, change ur surroundings. even if its just switching things up just a little bit every single day. literally just do something new. take a different route home. instead of having chicken tenders and fries at a restaurant, try a different order. talk to a stranger. literally anything that brings a little bit of change and differentiates each day.

if u find urself hesitating with change literally tell urself to DO IT FOR THE PLOT!!!!

#law of assumption #self concept #it girl #becoming that girl #self care #advice #self love #that girl #it girl energy #manifesting #dream girl #dream life #self development #self improvement #self growth #2024 #new year #girl blogger #hyperfemininity

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universalitgirlsblog2 · 9 months

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💖💋🥂IT GIRL ERA 2024💖💋🥂

💋1) Start putting yourself first . Choose yourself Put your own needs and wants first. What do they advice in flight ? First put your oxygen mask and then try to put others oxygen masks. It is not about oxygen masks.

💖2) Get a social media detox. Social media can be very toxic. We often get into fights with strangers or see toxic people in the comment section or compare ourselves with others. Get off Tumblr , Instagram , Facebook etc. It will help you alot.

🥂3)Get rid of victim mentality. Victim mentality can make things worse for you. You aren't a victim of your reality , you are the creator of your reality. Start taking responsibility and control of your life .

💋4) Believe in yourself . Like Elle Woods said , " most importantly you must have faith in yourself." You must have unwavering faith in yourself . It doesn't matter if others perceive you as less , make sure you don't perceive yourself as less. Your opinion of yourself matters the most.

🥂5) Start taking care of yourself. Self care will save you . Always put your self care first. Go to gym or workout at home. Do skincare. Take care of your hair. Get a mini hair spa. Self care will increase your energy and lower your stress levels. It will boost your self-esteem too.

💖6) Create a vision board. You can make vision board on Pinterest or make one in real life. Just make sure it inspires you and reminds you of your goals. Vision boards are very powerful tool.

💋7) Stop focusing on others. Focus on you. Don't think good or bad about anyone . Be focused on how you can make yourself better. If you don't get time to think about others , good ! Focus on yourself. Except the ones who are close to you , you shouldn't think about others or compare yourself . Just focus on how you can get ahead and make yourself better. I hope this made sense.

🥂8) Love yourself. Self love will save you. Listen , write or speak affirmations. Adopt the IDAF mindset , stop caring about others opinions. Don't compare yourself with others. Let go of toxic cycles and people. Be kind to yourself.

💖9) Remember what Jang Wonyoung said ? I DON'T CARE. YOU ARE YOU , I AM ME . ADOPT THIS MENTALITY. Enter your wonyoungism era !! Wonyoung said that if it's something she didn't do , then she doesn't care. That's where her iconic statement " you are you I am me " came from . Start being okay with people misunderstanding you. Don't try to explain yourself and waste your energy.

💋10) Give importance to your education . Education is the most powerful weapon. Read books. Watch documentaries. Study to learn , not just for good grades.

🥂11) Value your time. Realize how important your present moment is. Don't waste time on unproductive things. Do things that your future self will thank you for . Don't do things that your future self will curse you for.

💖12) Have different role models for different things. Let's say for developing a strong mindset , you can look upto Song Jia , Wonyoung or The wizard liz and for academics , you can look upto Hermione Granger , Elle Woods or Rory Gilmore .

💋13) Stop fighting with stupid people. Even strangers online ! Honestly , strangers online can be very toxic , annoying and stupid. Don't waste your energy arguing with stupid people or people who aren't willing to understand or listen .

💖14) Stop looking yourself through the lens of your past self. It's okay if you made some mistakes . Mistakes are the proof that you are trying. Forgive yourself and learn from them. Stop putting yourself down and keep those mistakes as a lesson. Yes you made some mistakes but after those mistakes , you learnt and made yourself better.

🥂15) No more self- depreciating humor. Your mind doesn't know the difference between reality , fiction or a joke.

💖💋🥂This advice is very basic and simple. But this advice will help you alot. Don't just read this post , make sure you follow this. Happy new year !!! 💖💋🥂

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elletheactualmenace · 6 months

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Was it Worth it?

Pairing: Bruce Wayne(battinson) x fem!reader

Summary: A night out turns disastrous, but somehow it brings you and Bruce closer

Warnings: Bruce being unsure how to behave around you, injuries, explosions, destructed building, worried Bruce, tears, talk about your past relationship with bruce, actress!reader, ambulances and police cars

Word Count: 3.9k

a/n: Sorry this took so long to post. I hope you enjoy this next part! Looking forward to continue writing this.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

“Bruce and Y/n Wayne have arrived at the charity auction in what looks to be one of Mr Wayne’s new cars from the most recent vintage corvette catalog.”

“That car is very pretty, and I think we can say the same about Y/n. She’s looking stunning as always”

“Well of course, with a wonder like that, Bruce Wayne would be in the wrong not to spoil his wife.”

“Haha, I agree. I also heard that he has already sold some of his more expensive model cars for tonight's charity.”

“Oh yes, that's right, he's ahead of the game,” The reporters laugh as you and Bruce begin walking towards the crowd of reporters and paparazzi.

“Mr Wayne!”

“Mrs Wayne, Mr Wayne, over here!”

“On your left Mr and Mrs Wayne!”

“Mrs Wayne! Show us the dress!”

“Stunning!”

The hoard of reporters and paparazzi crowd at the edges of the red velvety rope, separating them from you and your husband.

The paved walkway holds many people of high importance and wealth in the city. The board of public safety, the mayor, and more.

Bruce never has enjoyed big gathering events. Even with you at his side, he loathes the conversations, and the passive aggressiveness of it all.

You and your husband continue walking farther along the carpet, getting closer to the doors of city hall.

“Excuse me Mr Wayne! Do you have any comments on the new rumors of you and Batman's partnership?” You can feel Bruce's body tense and his senses sharpen at the mention of his alter ego. The reporter holds out a microphone and there is a cameraman directly behind the reporter.

Since you came into Bruce’s life his publicity has gone up through the roof. Bruce has been more active in his public life and it his business. You helped him open up. And for that everyone was grateful.

“No comment at the moment.” You can hear Bruce state just loud enough for the microphone to pick up.

“Now is not the right place or time,” You speak with a sweet smile. “This is for the children. Let's leave business talk for business hours.”

You pull Bruce away from the reporters with a furrowed brow. He can tell you are annoyed at the question. It is the only thing you’ve been getting asked about for the past two weeks.

——

“Come on,” You mumble to Bruce as you walk to the table with your names. A white sheet claiming your spots on the round table. It's a charity auction put on by the new mayor, for children in need. As an orphan himself Bruce didn’t argue about going.

Bruce pulls out your chair and you sit. Once you are settled he sits in his seat. His hand stretches out to grab yours, but he stops himself. He doesn't know if you’re both there yet. Usually at events like these you would always be right there with him, holding his hand or touching him in some way. But he's trying to learn to not expect that attention as much. So, instead he rests his hand on his thigh, it's the closest he can get to your hands which are situated on your lap.

In all honesty you almost reached over too out of habit. But it is easy for memories of her face on flashing screens to cloud your vision. So you leave your hand in your lap, squeezing the other for comfort.

As people find their seats the lights begin to dim. Someone walks on stage to the stand, introduces himself, thanks everyone for coming, and begins the bidding. Too in your thoughts to pay attention, you take a sip of your champagne.

People begin bidding money for antiques, paintings, expensive wine, rare collectables, and more. You and your husband both agreed to begin your bidding at the end, knowing the goods offered are always more expensive at the end. More money to the children was your conclusion.

“Do I hear a 15,000?” The auctioneer asks the crowd. You lean over to whisper something in Bruce’s ear.

“Bruce,”

He turns his head slightly so you know he's listening but keeps his eyes on the front of the room.

“I'm going to head to the bathroom, won’t be long.” You quietly push your chair out. You pause wondering if you should kiss him goodbye. You always do when leaving, but because of everything, you aren’t sure if you should. But then again there are reporters everywhere. What if someone sees and twists the story? Well, you think, their story might not be so twisted. You don’t give it another thought as you lean down and quickly peck his cheek before heading to the ladies room.

Bruce could sense the hesitation before the kiss, and with all his heart he wished it was real, even if his mind knew it would never be. But, even just a sliver of the past made his heart swell and beat rapidly. A small smile formed on his lip, which he quickly pushed away trying to listen to the auctioneer.

“And sold!” The auctioneer says into the microphone as the painting rolls away.

The further you get the quieter the halls become. Your heels make a click with every step on the marble floors.

The halls are long, and seem to go on forever. You hate to admit that you're a bit lost. But you think if you just keep walking you might be able to find someone who can help you, or, if you're lucky, the bathroom.

You’re mindful of where you are, making sure you at least will be able to somewhat recognize the halls on your way back. You hate being lost, especially in such a high status place.

Before you and Bruce got together, your parents had been friends. You two never talked much before the accident, but you knew of each other. There was no specific reason for your lack of friendship, other than the fact that he didn’t talk much and you thought boys had cootie.

When his parents died, your parents would force you to hang out with him, which didn’t take a lot of convincing because you felt terrible that he went through what he did. Being forced together all the time helped your relationship grow. Even if only platonic.

At first he didn’t trust you. You didn’t blame him. So you ignored the mess he was. You ignored his sloppiness and rudeness and were kind. Slowly you became friends, you told him about your hopes and dreams and in turn he did the same.

At fourteen you told him you wanted to become an actress and be on the big screen. And he didn’t tell you that you wouldn’t make it like everyone else had, but he supported you, even if it was in his closed off way.

When you turned sixteen Bruce attended your birthday party. It was so sweet, and thought full of him, especially due to the fact that you and him were going through a rough patch, which, when you were young, was something that happened a lot in your relationship. He attended with all of your other friends and even your crush at the time, though he hated talking to new people. He even offered to get you a car to make up for his cruel words during the fight, but you had to tell him a multitude of times that it was unnecessary. And that all you wanted was for you both to stop arguing.

You were beyond happy that day, but didn’t understand why he would put himself through that party for you. At the time you were too naïve to see that all he wanted was to see you smile, even if it was with the boy you liked and not him.

When you were seventeen you told him all about how you got into your dream college. He was so happy for you, that was until you told him you would have to go and live far away. But he didn’t let it show. He just smiled and waved you off at the airport with a heavy heart.

When you got your first roll in a movie he heard about it on the news. Not from you. You both had been too busy with your new lives to keep us with your old ones. It made him long for the past.

During the premier of your fourth film you finally saw Bruce again. He was older, so were you. He looked so put-together and grown up. You were impressed by his change from boy to man. When you attempted to talk to him, he shut down the conversation immediately. You learned over the next couple of encounters that it would take a lot of work to get back into his good graces.

it was as if everything you had worked for over the years had fallen. It was like you didn’t recognize him, and he didn’t recognize you. You understood that Bruce was not a trusting person, and that the time away had caused a shift in his view on you, but you were determined to get your childhood friend back. It took a lot of work to get back to where you were, but you didn’t stop, knowing that all the work would be worth it. You were right.

And slowly, he opened up again. Trusted you again. Loved you again. During your efforts, Bruce had convinced himself he didn’t need you, but, boy, was he wrong. He hadn’t realized how much he needed you in his life until you were gone. The more he opened up the more he saw that. And god, did he miss you.

After almost a year and a half of working to get closer to him, he caved and did what 16-year-old him would have pissed his pants to do. He asked you out. And long story short, it worked out in his favor.

You continue walking until you see a door with the image of a cartoon woman on it. You push the door open and step into the ladies room.

There is a large, long mirror against the wall with a lone sink under it to the right. Five faucets evenly laid out along the sink. You turn to the stalls on the left. Making pushing the door open to step in.

Once you finish you walk over to the motion sensor faucet, pumping soap into the palm of your hand.

The door opens and a woman walks in. You recognize her, but don’t feel the need to make conversation in the bathroom. But she has other plans.

“Mrs. Wayne, I’m so happy we can finally talk.” The woman says, and your eyes lift from your soapy hands to meet hers in the mirror.

“Mayor Real,” you smile politely. She had recently become mayor as far as you could tell, she was doing a fantastic job.

“I’m sorry for the inappropriate meeting place, I’ve just been anxious to get to speak to you again.” Mayor Real said, taking something out of her handbag. Makeup to touch up her face.

“No need for the apology, I’m sure if we talked anywhere else someone would bombard us.” You chuckle, and she, along with you.

“What did you want to talk about?” You ask as you rinse off your hands.

"I wanted to make better acquaintance with you,” she said simply. The first time you had met was at the prior mayor’s funeral, the one the Riddler attacked.

“The first time we met was not the best of circumstances.” Mayor Real added lightly. You nod with a sad smile to her.

You walk to dry your hands with the paper towel provided.

”From what I’ve seen you're a good person, and it's good to know good people.” Real puts her makeup back into your handbag.

”Mayor Real-”

”Bella, please.” She cuts you off, correcting you.

”Bella,” You correct yourself with a smile, turning to her. “If you’re asking if we can be friends, then just say that.” You chuckle lightly. Bella looks a bit embarrassed but smiles anyway.

”Right. Friends then?” She asks.

”Of course.” You grin back. “Walk back with me?” You offer heading to the door. Bella follows after you happily.

You once again begin your walk down the long echoey hall. Now the sound of heels on marble doubled. You make idle conversation, trying to make her more comfortable with you. You don’t like the fact that some people find you unapproachable, because really your husband is unapproachable, not you. But it’s really not his fault, he’s just not good with people. But you, you know how to talk to people, and you think it’s odd that people are frightened to talk to you.

“Bella?” You ask putting your hand out infront of her, stopping her from going any further. Her brows furrow as she looks at you.

“What is-“

Your body is thrown to the ground. Everything happens as if it's in slow motion. Blinding white light flashes over Bella and you. It is like the bright white of light on freshly clean hospital sheets. It stings your eyes shut.

Next comes the shards of broken marble and concrete. Like needle pricking your skin. A wave of rubble and dusty pieces of brick scatter around you. On instinct your hands reach up to protect your head. Your ears ring and the pounding of your heart is louder than ever. It's like a movie, but everythings so much more confusing.

You feel the coldness of marble on your hot skin. And you hiss as a headache pricks your eyes. Your head, still turned toward the floor from your fall, rises. You look around, trying to understand what happened. One second you were walking with Bella the next you're on the cold floor with a pounding headache and ringing ears.

Your eyes are still being attacked by the brightness. So you squint and look around. There is what remains of a wall scattered all around you. And about 45 feet ahead of you is a giant hole in the wall.

You don’t register Bellas voice until her hand grasps your arm. You look at her, still a bit dazed.

“Mrs. Wayne! Are you alright? Are you injured?” She asks frantically. And you nod slowly, coming to your senses.

“Yes, sorry,” you wince, “god, my head is killing me.”

Bella helps you up and you lean against a nearby wall. You look down at yourself. You are covered in dust and debris, you dress ripped at the bottom, and cuts scatter your skin.

You look at Bella, she’s in about the same state. But she looks more put together. Being married to Bruce, odd and scary situations like this were not out of the norm, but for some reason, with everything that’s been going on in your personal life, you aren’t as mentally prepared for this. Your heart is pounding and your thoughts race.

You look around frantically, you both need to get out of here somehow. But your head is overcome with a rush of thoughts. Only one keeps repeating. Bruce. You are close to the auction room and you have a creeping suspicion that that explosion wasn’t an accident.

You run as fast as you can along the rubble in your heels. Not thinking about what Bella might think. You almost fall with every step. You can’t think about anything but him. Even though you are pissed beyond what words can express, you're still worried sick.

And all the people he was with. You realize, as your breathing becomes quicker. How would they have gotten out? They must have been terrified.

When you finally turn the corner into the auction room you see mass destruction. But no people, just a broken building. Everyone must have gotten out. But there must have been multiple explanations that went off.

You look to where your and Bruce’s table had been. Now all the silverware is scattered and glass broken on the floor.

You stand there in shock, and are brought out of your trance by Bella grabbing your arm again.

”What are you doing?! We have to evacuate,” She huffs out.

“I'm sorry, I thought there were people still in here.” You breathe out slowly trying to catch your breath better. “I had to make sure-“

”Everyones made it out, I just got a text from commissioner Gordon. Everyone is alright, but we need to go.” She hurries out. And you nod in understanding. But still your heart races. You are worried something might have happened to Bruce, and you can imagine he is feeling the same.

You both walk hurriedly down the halls, trying to find an exit. You hate how little direction the building gives you. You and Bella hold on to each other for support as you walk.

“Bella are you alright?” You finally ask as you continue down the hall.

“Yes. Just a few cuts and bruises. Can’t imagine what would have happened if you didn’t stop us from walking further.” She comments.

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to push away the images of what could have been.

“We were lucky.” She says to you and you nod in agreement.

——

When you eventually spot an exit sign you both physically relax a bit. You push the door open for both of you. The door opens to the side of the building, you can see the lights of police cars from around the corner. And you hear the chatter of all the people.

You and Bella stammer over making sure not to trip in the dark light. As you round the corner you are met with police and paramedics at your side immediately. You brush them off, telling them to tend to the Mayor first. Stubbornly they listen.

You are both taken to an ambulance, and sat at the edge of the open truck. You are given a blanket and moment to gather yourself.

You can see the uninjured crowd of people from the auction across the street, their safe. Your eyes scan over the faces for Bruce.

“Mrs. Wayne.” A voice calls and you turn to face Gordon. You give him your attention and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I’m sorry you and Mayor Real got stuck in the blasts.” Your breath catches in your throat at his words. So you were right. There had been multiple. Gordon seems to understand that you wanted to know more, so he doesn’t stop.

“We got an anonymous call in, and immediately called for an evaluation. We had accounted for people not being in the main auction room, but we had to focus on the larger group,” Gordon explains with a sigh.

“Yes, I understand. Thank you for your help.” You thank, with a sincere smile. Gordon seems stressed and you feel bad that he has to deal with the aftermath of the horrible people of this city. You can see the tension in his shoulders and the tiredness in his eyes.

“Commissioner?” His eyes turn up at his name. “Do you know where my husband might be?” You ask with furrowed brows. Gordon smiles softly, and nods.

“Yeah, I’ll go get him. In the meantime, stop refusing the paramedics help.” He scolds as he begins walking off. You huff out a laugh and ultimately you let one of the EMT’s look you over properly.

Looking down at your body, you finally take note of the cuts on your skin, and you can make out the beginnings of bruises. Your new dress is ripped and dirty, just like your skin. Only now does your brain begin to register the ache of them.

Your skin stings as the EMT looking after you swipes disinfectant over your scrapes. You wince every once and a while and the EMT gives you apologetic looks.

You hear your name and your head shoots up. You see Bruce rushing through a crowd trying to reach you. He looks frantic, eyes wide and filled with worry. You look him over as he makes his way to you. He isn’t injured, you note, and a wait lifts off your shoulders.

“Y/n!” He exasperates as he gets to your side. The EMT respectfully steps away, giving you both space. He takes hold of your arms gently, but securely. It's like the feeling of your warm body against him gives him comfort. Bruce looks over you tenderly once, twice, and a third to be safe. You're at a perfect height to meet eyes, due to sitting in the back of the ambulance truck.

“Bruce, I'm alright,” You say, trying to slow down your racing heart. You’re happy to know he too, is mostly unharmed.

“I- I thought you might have-” Your heart cracks with his voice. You see his eyes get misty and you swear you’ll cry if you stay looking at him. His face is burned in your mind. He looks so lost, so frightened. You know exactly how he feels.

Bruce wants to hug you more than anything. He wants to kiss you. To know you're really here. But he also isn’t sure you want that, with everything that has happened, that he has done, he's not sure how to react in situations involving you.

You look down to avoid his heart breaking gaze. You want to hold him, but don’t know if it's wrong to begin to forgive him so soon. It’s been nearly two months, yet still your heart stings every time you picture him with Selina. But looking at him now makes your heart ache to forgive.

“I- Im glad you're okay.” Bruce voices, trying to calm his uneven breathing. He hesitates to let go of your arms, but folds and lets his arms drop to his side.

”Bruce I-“ You stutter over your words. You can’t say what you feel. But god do you want to. “I'm glad you're okay too.”

”I- I'm so sorry. I should have gone with you, or-“

“Bruce, hey- baby,” You grab hold of his face with your cold hands and his eyes painfully train on you. He looks so small. “You couldn’t have done anything. Stop beating yourself up. It's pissing me off that you think you could have known, because you couldn’t have,”

He keeps his eyes on you, the tears in his eyes sparkling in the light of the police car sirens.

“Just be happy we are both here. Yeah?” You question softly, not letting him move his face from your hold. He nods as much as he can with your hands on his face. He whispers an apology as he looks down and a silent tear rolls down his cheek. Your thumb rubs over his skin and wipes it away.

”Don’t cry,” You whisper to him.

“I'm sorry tonight was such a scare,” You hum and you continue soothing his skin with your thumbs. Bruce's eyes fall shut and two more tears slip from his lids.

”Me too.” He mumbles into your hands. Bruce turns his head to kiss your palm and for the first time in a while, you smile genuinely at him.

”Let's go home,” He whispers as he lifts his hands over yours to soothe you like you are soothing him. You hum and shut your eyes, leaning your forehead against his.

#bruce wayne x reader #battinson #batman x reader #bruce wayne #batman #bruce wayne x you #x reader #battinson x reader #the batman 2022 #angst

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corpsebasil · 1 year

Text

Quit Staring

ethan brainrot dont talk to me this got me like 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

The Halloween party was loud. Extremely loud, and you could barely hear yourself think, let alone the guy that was attempting to hit on you.

“So like, I’ve got this cool new game upstairs. It’s called a Ouija Board and you talk like, to the dead and shit. Wanna try it out?”

What.

“Ouija? The game literally everyone knows about?” You took a long sip of your watered down vodka red-bull and looked the frat boy up and down. “You know there’s a movie right?”

“Ah whatever.” He seemed to be slurring a bit, blinking lazily at you. “Nice dress by the way. What are you, an angel?”

You only stared, wondering if barking at him would make him go away, when an arm slid around your waist and pulled you into their chest. You tensed before realizing it was just Ethan; he’d lost his helmet at some point in the night and his dark hair was a tad bit sweaty.

“She’s Juliet.” He told the guy, gesturing to his knight costume and your angel wings. “I’m Romeo.”

“Is that, like, a movie?” The frat boy asked, peering at you in confusion. You almost gawked.

“Dude are you serious?” Ethan’s eyebrow raised. The frat boy, looking suddenly a bit embarrassed, found himself somewhere else to be. “Jesus, what an idiot.”

You snorted and pulled away, turning to face him. He seemed a little tipsy but not too bad, his expression warm and eyes soft as they stared down at you.

“Thanks for saving me.” You said, reaching out to adjust his costume a bit. “I thought I was actually losing brain cells.”

“Yeah he—”

“Ohmygoood.” A girl cooed, pausing in front of the two of you. You raised your brows and took a sip from your rapidly emptying cup. “I love that movie.” The side eye Ethan gave you was so astronomical you almost spit out your drink. “Wow. And Leo is so hot, right?” She continued, oblivious to the both of you’s disinterest.

But when she laid her hand on his shoulder, smiling flirtatiously, you felt something strangely territorial run over you. If knives could be magically produced by your vision this sorority sister’s hand would fall off.

“You don’t really look like Leo, though.” She said and you moved forward, wrapping your arm around Ethan’s waist. Her eyes widened and she immediately moved back, to her credit. You almost admired her rapid retreat. “Oh shit. I’m sorry. I’m drunk. Are two you a couple?”

“Yeah—” Ethan said, at the same time as you said, “Couple of besties.”

Ethan turned his head to look at you and you avoided his stare, sure you would laugh if you saw what would most likely be his amused expression as well. The girl whistled under her breath and nodded, mumbling ‘okayyy’ under her breath as she moved away.

The second she was gone you laughed, pulling Ethan closer to you and glancing up at him. He was looking down at you with a quizzical expression on his face, his brows knit. You shook him a little, an awkward laugh leaving your mouth.

“Quit staring at me, E.” You teased. You tousled his curls and grabbed his hand, dragging him along with you. “Come on. I say we get super drunk, go to my place, and order takeout. I would massacre a small town for a Caesar salad and a Diet Coke—what?”

He’d tugged you to a stop, those brown eyes of his on your face.

“Do you—” he started, seeming hesitant, and you smiled.

“Do I what?” When he didn’t speak you took his face in your hands, ignoring the stunned expression he now wore. Lord, you must’ve been tipsier than you’d thought. “Spit it out E.”

He swallowed.

“Do you like me?”

Your eyes narrowed, thinking, before you let out a laugh. He tensed, mouth forming into a frown, but you only giggled, running your thumbs across his cheeks, not allowing him to pull back from your grip.

“Of course, E, what the fuck?” You tugged him forward and his breath hitched, but he let out a cry of protest, batting you away when you placed an extremely wet, extremely loud kiss to the side of his face.

“Jesus, Y/N.” He wiped at his cheek, glaring, but you could tell he was holding back a laugh. “That was awful.”

“I could try again.”

“I’m extremely seduced, thank you. Good god.” He wiped at his face a couple more times, cringing, before allowing you to yank him towards the drink tables.

An hour or so later the two of you sat bundled up in your bed, eyes glued to the screen as you watch Girl vs. Monster.

You had insisted on watching a classic horror movie and, when Ethan had asked if you wanted to see Stab 1 or Halloween or something, you’d opened up Disney Plus. Of course Ethan, being Ethan, only pretended to protest before he’d gotten into the film.

“These outfits are questionable.” He said, taking a long sip from your Diet Coke. He had his arm wrapped around you, you snuggled up into his side. “I mean, extremely.”

“This is peak Disney Channel fashion.” You argued, glancing up at him, he pressed his lips together in a smile that made him look so boyish, so adorable, that your stomach dropped. “They um—” You looked away, your face warming. “If you think this is bad you should’ve seen Shake It Up.”

“Wait, do you know that scene in Camp Rock where the girl’s playing the keyboard thingy and it’s awful and everyone pretends it’s great?”

“She’s really good.” You gasped, and Ethan’s laugh made you grin.

He tugged you further up onto to him and propped his chin on your head, his free arm looping over your waist so that he held you completely in his grasp. You felt his fingers twitch against your stomach, him getting adjusted and comfortable, and when he’d finally settled he began running his fingers lazily back and forth over your stomach.

You swallowed.

You weren’t sure why you felt like your skin was buzzing, your heartbeat quickening as you felt his chest rise and fall against your back.

“E?” You whispered, and heard the vibration of his hmmm? run through you. “When you uh,” you took in a slow breath when his arms tightened a fraction around you. “when you asked me if I liked you, what did you mean?”

His movements stilled and he sighed, shrugging. You turned in his grip to face him, your eyes searching his own.

“What did you mean?” You pressed, your cheeks flushed as you stared at your friend. He seemed to take in your expression with a hint of surprise, then with encouragement, as he reached out ran his fingers through your hair.

“I think you know what I meant.” He said, those doe eyes finding your own, and he’d barely opened his mouth to say something—you didn’t know what—before you lunged forward and kissed him.

He let out a noise of surprise that quickly turned into a sigh as you pressed your mouth against his own, clutching his shirt in your hands as his arms slid further around your back. You moved away a fraction to look at him as he pulled you to straddle his lap, and the smile he gave you was so gorgeous you screamed internally.

You felt like you needed to take a lap, to run around, to call Ethan and tell him what just— You wanted to tell Ethan about himself. Good god, this was what you got for kissing your friends.

“So I’m assuming you do like me?” He teased, biting nervously on his bottom lip, and you leaned in to kiss him again. This time it was slower, your mouth parting his own as you licked into him, and he groaned. “You have no idea,” he whispered, moving his hands to touch your face, “how long I’ve had a crush on you for.”

The butterflies you felt were insane. Especially when he asked, kissing you softly, “will you please be my girlfriend already?”

You laughed and nodded, slipping your fingers into his hair.

this shit got my kicking my FEET

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #fluff #just pure fluff #friends to lovers #scream six #scream 6 #ethan landry fanfiction

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luckykiwiii101 · 8 months

Text

Not So Sugar&Spice And EVERYTHING Nice After All…

(Read till the end!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I HATE to break it to you but, you’re going to have to get ready to accept that you’re NOT going to live the life of your dreams.

DROP those endless list of desires you’ve piled up over the years or months you’ve spent on this app.

Those years and months speak dangerous words, words that you finally have to hear. But it’s not my fault it’s come to it.

You’re NEVER going to get what you want. Save those vision boards for nap time, because that’s the closest you’ll ever get to seeing them. Yes, in your LITERAL dreams.

Ouch, that’s got to hurt.

“I’ll try to enter the void state again tonight.” Yes. Exactly. You’ll TRY again. And you’ll try again the night after that, and the night after that, and the night after that. And it will NEVER end. You’ve been at it for a while now.

“I’ll try THIS method tonight.” Yeah, and you’ll be looking for a new method by tomorrow. And so on, and so on, and so on.

Same goes for your manifestations.

“I’ll persist later!!!” Yes. Exactly. You’ll persist “later.” Later as in, next week? next month? next Year? Seconds turn into minutes, minutes turn into hours, hours turn into days, days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, months turn in to years, and years turn into decades, and decades turn into small little segments of your tragic little life, spent doing what? Trying? Procrastinating? Sulking? Or living the life of your dreams? Call it Russian roulette, but YOU’RE the one holding the gun to your head.

The cycle never ends. The tragic thing is, it starts with an undisciplined, lazy & hopeless person. And ends with the same undisciplined, lazy & hopeless person.

Why?

Take a wild guess. You’ve tumbled onto tumblr, figured out that you could live the life of your dreams, and did NOTHING about it, other than TRY.

Well, trying was never the answer.

All you ever had to do was just change your PATHETIC assumptions, into more….ideal ones.

Changing your assumptions are COMPULSORY! Not to rain on your parade, but this is a rain parade from hell. Purely tragic. Maybe you’ll start applying to get out of this endless loop.

And sorry to crush your hopeless little dreams, but you aren’t going to get ANYWHERE if you don’t change them. You are NEVER going to enter the void state. You are NEVER going to be a master manifestor.

Looks like that 9-5 is going to land you on highway 95.

Do I have to run you over, leave you bedridden, not able to move a muscle, for you to just PERSIST. Because your mind is all it takes. Nobody asked you to run a marathon. Yet you’re actually running a marathon, in the opposite direction of your dreams.

Well, all I can say is, keep running.

At the end of the day, ACCEPTANCE is all that matters. Accept that you will never have anything you want, or just accept that you already have everything you want.

If this isn’t the wake up call that wakes you up!!! NOTHING will.

All I can say now is, if you’re still roaming this app by the end of February, I feel BAD for you. I’m not saying that’s how long it will take, but if it does, then yikes! And we all know one thing about Gossip Girl, I LOVE to wreak havoc. But you’re already doing that FOR me. So thank you, and goodbye. Now say goodbye back, along with your precious desires.

Too bad that your dreams are going to just stay as dreams.

Bye Bye.

(So not you, by the way):

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moonstruckme · 1 year

Note

This celebration is so cute ahhhh

Two Ghosts - send autumn/Halloween-specific prompts!

anyway, imagine picking out your halloween costume with the marauders

Remus is so supportive of whatever (as long as you don't make him do anything too weird), James wants to do something that matches, and Sirius is all like "this one would make your tits look great, ah babe this one would show off your lovely thighs, I've always wanted to fuck a nurse :)"

I hope I'm doing this right, this is my first time having the pleasure of participating in a celebration!

-🔮

You're good, lovely! Thanks for participating :)

join the party

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 474 words

“No,” Remus says as Sirius comes pulls up yet another picture of a group costume. “Pads, my one condition is that I get to be fully clothed. I’m not going to change my mind.”

“But we’d look so hot as the sexy Scooby Doo gang,” Sirius whines, but when Remus’ expression doesn’t change, he switches tactics. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to see me in a collar, Moony.”

Remus rolls his eyes, seemingly unaffected. “I could have you in a collar anytime I wanted to. Next.”

“Ooh, I like this one!” James says, swiveling his laptop around for you all to see. “We could be smurfs!”

Sirius sighs heavily, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. “None of you sees the vision,” he laments.

While you can’t say you’re totally on board with Sirius’ plan of walking around in essentially underwear on what’s bound to be a chilly night, you agree with him about this one.

“I don’t love the idea of painting my face and everything blue,” you tell James gently. “Haven’t you seen the videos where it won’t come off?”

“What if we just all went as ghosts,” Remus suggests, patting James’ head consolingly when he pouts. “It’s simple, it’s easy, we all already have sheets.”

“Ghosts,” Sirius says severely, “are not hot.”

“You know what else isn’t going to be hot?” Remus counters. “The weather, on October thirty first.”

“I’m sure we can find a compromise,” you say, moving further onto Sirius’ lap before he can get too amped up. You lean your head against his chest placatingly, looking at the screen of his laptop. “Merlin, these are skimpy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sirius murmurs, kissing the crown of your head absentmindedly. He scrolls a bit further, and then you feel him perk up in excitement even before he speaks. “Okay, okay, compromise: nurses and doctor. Rem, you can be a doctor if you want to wear, like, pants or whatever—” he shakes his head as if such a desire is unbelievable “—but the rest of us can be sexy nurses. Look, sweetheart, this neckline will make your tits look great.”

You gaze at the tiny bits of white fabric covering the model in the picture, dread settling like a weight in your gut. “It’s…a lot of skin.”

“Yup.” Sirius nods, pleased with himself. “Gotta show it off, sweet thing. And I get to show you off in the process.”

James gets up, peering over your shoulders to see. “Merlin,” he breathes. “Alright, I’m willing to freeze my ass off if you guys are. So long as we’re doing it together, yeah?”

“We’re gonna be so cold,” you agree.

“Aw, don’t worry sweetheart.” Sirius rubs your shoulder eagerly. “I’m sure Moony will lend you his doctor’s coat if you need it, won’t you handsome?”

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ssivinee · 1 year

Text

✧New Game, New Player✧

part 1 | part 2

BEBE! Bada Lee x Dancer! F Reader: Jeon Y/n joins SWF to prove that her being the sibling of an idol doesn't make her any less of a dancer, but while trying to do so, she makes new friends and potentially something more.

Word Count: 4.7k

Note: Double post cause why not, have too many drafts rn lol.

Character Vision Board

In the world of dance, many professionals look down upon idols who seem to have a passion for it. Many of them saying, it's a different world and aren't really wrong.

Most idols lack in freestyle and versatility which caused a lot of the disapproval last Street Woman Fighter, with idol Lee Chaeyeon.

Jeon Y/n, on the other hand, had a different dilemma.

You were the younger sister of the famous Jeon Jungkook. He was only a year older than you so you two had a close bond, and you love him with all your heart.

Yet you can't deny that once your name was involved, so was his. Your hard work being discredited and diminished by all his career alone.

It upset you as an individual whose danced all your life, going to multiple countries worldwide to gain experience, yet there was always back talk about you.

Deciding to finally make your mark as just Y/n, you opened a studio last year and create your crew Aesthete. Consisting of you, Choi Lyn, Enyo, Heaven Lee, and Kim Aria.

On a Friday morning, you walk into the studio and see the three youngest sitting around, waiting on the rest of the team. Your teams youngest, Lyn, notices you walk in from the mirror. Her bursts of energy activates as she runs up and hugs her beloved unnie extremely tight.

"O-okay, let's calm down before you squeeze all the air out of me," you joke, and Lyn pouts as you pat her head. "Aria isn't here yet?" You ask your juniors as you settle all your items into the closet.

"She was the first one here but wanted to get us all coffee."

Ironically the door opens, revealing the face you were looking for, "Speaking of the devil." She heads to everyone, handing their coffee to them and puts her own personal belongings in the closet.

"Everyone begin stretching. The studio opens in 30 minutes."

You clap and rally the girls together, stretching along with them, then check the list of students coming into the class today. The song chosen for the class was "Con Calma" by Daddy Yankee & Snow. Once class started, you got in the groove of things, and as it went smoothly, you picked a few students and grouped them up to film them for a YouTube video.

When class ends, the girls chill around in a circle as they sit and chat. You scrolled through tiktok, liking dance trends while Enyo leaned her head on your shoulder.

Your phone alerts you, an email sent to your work email instead of personal so you knew it was of importance. Opening the sent mail, your eyes widen at seeing the Mnet logo.

The girls see your face and give a look of concern to each other, "What's going on?"

Your hand over your mouth, and you read, announcing, "Mnet invited us to Street Woman Fighter 2!"

All you can hear is gasps, and after a few seconds, jumping and screaming while you still stand thinking of how unbelievable the opportunity is. Aria grabs your arm and jumps, "Unnie, this is your time to shine!"

You smiled to yourself, now believing that people may actually appreciate you for your dancing.

It was a day of filming on a Saturday morning, and you had finished filming the introduction segment of each crew a week prior.

You get to the main building of the show in your own car and, with another coffee in hand, walk into the lobby to see your team waiting for you.

"Y/n-unnie! Isn't this place so cool?" Lyn says, coming up to you full of energy. Your eyes scan the building, and you must admit, for an assumingly fierce competition, it looked very subtle from what you expected. "It's definitely something,” you mumble.

"Come on, ladies, let's head into our rooms,” you command.

We headed up the stairs and into the halls, passing every crew's room and seeing what they had written on their board.

"It seems like someone tampered with 1Millions board already," Enyo points out, you then frown at their antics. The thoughts of these grown women acting like this irritated you. They were acting like children whose toys were stolen from them.

Yes, you understood bad blood, but pettiness like this isn't a good look on anyone.

The crew sees the Aesthete in a lightly script font in royal blue. You let the girls write on the whiteboard and enter to find the blue room, getting a bit overwhelmed with everything happening so fast.

Everyone sat down and you did breathing exercises, and as the nerves calm, your anticipation and excitement overthrow the previous emotions. The screen then flashes and tells us the dancer on the team with the most no-respect, which was Aria, causing you to look at the screen in confusion.

"Um, okay?" They all laugh at your reaction, mainly because Aria wasn't a weak dancer, but you assumed those stickers were there because of you.

You felt terrible and rubbed her shoulders, "They probably picked you since you’ve been my longest student."

She smiles at you, "It's alright, unnie. I'll just show them why I haven’t left your side."

Aria had been the first student you trained about 7 years ago and has stayed by your side ever since. You always thought it was because she wanted to meet your brother at some point, but over the years, your friendship blossomed, and she reassured you. Aria took your classes because she loved your style, movement, aura, and passion for dancing.

She indeed became the little sister you never had.

Then, the TV signals us to head to the main stage. You all walked down, your team following your lead, and looked around at each group. Every crew was there, but Jam Republic, being the grand finale, you assumed.

Your appearance began to cause everyone to mumble. You kept your hand in the pockets of your cargos, inducing a chill persona.

“Y/n-nim looks so cool.”

“Her eyes look ready to kill. Like she’s ready to punch anyone who disrespects them.”

“And I thought Bada would be the only person here who would be many girl’s type.”

Before you can all take your seats, you stand in the middle and see your team video playing, hearing "Backseat Freestyle" by Kendrick Lamar.

Then, the comments begin to flow in. Starting with Lady Bounce.

"I wanna say I'm intrigued about this team, but only because of Jeon Y/n."

"She's been known as the mother of HYBE. I mean, she's choreographed so many songs for so many groups. I guess that's where all the comments stem from." Lia Kim also speaks, addressing it to her team, and they nod.

"I don't understand why a team like this is on the show. They're like team Bebe, but instead of Bada, they have Y/n," Mina Myoung of Deep N Dap comments, and you stand there with a still, stoic face.

“The team has only been around for one year. They shouldn’t even be in this competition with us,” Wolf Lo’s Halo speaks out with her opinion.

You weren't amused by their comments in the slightest, but you wouldn't give them the satisfaction of getting any major reaction out of you.

Yoonji of Mannequeen then says the comment that ticks you off the most, "Not only are these the shadow of Jeon Y/n, but she is in the shadow of Jeon Jungkook. Even coming on this show, there is no escape from that."

Everyone keeps their eyes on you, trying to see any movement or expression of anger, but you give them a smirk. You knew a comment like this would be said, which didn’t surprise you.

You got those comments quite often any time a choreography of yours went viral so it was nothing you haven’t heard of.

Then, the crew with the trendy Bada Lee appears on the screen, "I'm gonna be honest, I don't know much about them." Lusher begins. " I'd say they're probably our biggest rivals due to our dance styles," Tatter adds.

"Maybe dancing is in Y/n's genes. She just has to prove it here. As a leader, I'm sure she knows many people look down on her due to her connection to her brother." You stare at the screen, a little surprised at the more neutral comment by their leader.

“Their style is very appealing and trendy. I feel we’re gonna see a lot from this crew,” Tsubakill’s Rena says with a soft smile.

The women of Jam Rebuplic were on screen, and you couldn't help but smile a little. Kristen and Ling met you during their time with the Royal Family, and knowing them for many years put you at ease. You also became a fan of Audrey's dance style with her appearance on the World of Dance.

"I know we're in a competition with these girls, but knowing Y/n personally, I know and believe her talent goes beyond imagination and can lead this team to success." The video then ends and shows the status of no-respect stickers given. You had gotten 2, while Lyn had 4.

As you sit, you think of having 3 level-headed crews on the show that didn't disrespect you. If anything, they looked respectful and sincere about all their comments.

The large room began to buzz in whispers as crews chatted about other teams. "I can't believe they think of you like that," Enyo shakes her head, but you shrug. "Their comments were honestly what I expected. I didn't expect the nicer things that Tsubakill and Bebe said."

"Agreed," Lyn mumbles, feeling down due to the comments. "I knew Jam was gonna be nice, but everyone else was truly a fifty-fifty."

Jam Republic then comes down with an energy that no one could match in the studio. They were the ones who felt as if they were at the top, and there was no denying it. They were at the top. The girls were the most unique with their versatile dance arsenal.

You knew your abilities as a dancer, and one thing you couldn't do well was Afro-dance, as the rhythm was genuinely different.

They stand in the middle as they react to their video, but every other team can't help but stare at the girls. The video played, and as every minute passed, their reactions were solely entertained rather than angry. In some way, you were engaged by the comments, too.

Some groups said they'd rather have Paris Globel there, but you know that in the popularity game, every team would have lost right then and there.

Nearing the end, you couldn't help but smile at Audrey's reaction to her 6 stickers. Your crew didn't have anything bad to say about them, and they took note of this as they took their seats right next to yours.

Ling and Kristen give you a fist bump and smile, which is noticed by Bada, who sits one team away from Aesthete.

“They seem close, huh,” Tatter whispers to her leader, who nods, intrigued at your relationship with the international team. After hearing the praise from Jam Republic, she knew you shouldn’t be underestimated.

If people from other countries were saying good things on your behalf, you couldn't be as weak as the other crews said. The large screen then shows the show's logo as the lights begin moving around on the runway area of the stage.

"Is it starting?" Enyo asks, but her questions are answered by Kang Daniel coming out. All the women were cheering as he had the mic and queue cards in hand.

"Hello. Welcome to Mnet's original dance series, Street Woman Fighter 2, and I'm your host, Kang Daniel. Not only will we see the competitions between some of the best dance crews in Korea, but we have gone international this season - with global named crews, making the competition more intense."

Heaven and Lyn act out a fight, punching each other lightly. "Yah, chill out, please," Aria warns the two younger girls causing them to abruptly halt the play fight.

"You'll fight to crush all the other crews and reach the top. Only one crew can do that. Here's the first dance battle to be the winner of this competition."

Kang Daniel did very good at amping everyone up. As you leaned forward, arms laid on your knees, hiding the lower half of your face, you hid your smile of amusement.

"The signature of the dance series is your first mission, the no-respect battle with the weakest dancer." You were all told to change, and you take your water with you as you return to the stage.

As you leave your room, you see the tall figure with the Oreo hair leave the room right beside yours. You bow when you see her, and she reciprocates. Given that you were tall, standing at 5'8, looking slightly up to meet her gaze, it was surprising.

"Hello, Bada-nim," You reach your hand out, and her eyes go wide, looking stunned. "I just want to thank you for not saying anything negative on behalf of my team."

She gladly accepts your handshake with a friendly grin, "Hey man, I know what it feels like when people compare you to the idol instead of acknowledging your talents."

"You're telling me. I've been getting compared to my brother ever since everyone found out about us being related."

"I had those moments when dancing with Kai, but people warmed up to it, especially the more I choreographed for him."

You smile at her with envy, "I bet it's nice to hear the love from people." You lower your head and lean against the wall, feeling somewhat ashamed for feeling this way. "I'm a little jealous Bada-nim."

Bada tilts her head, confused at what you, out of everyone, had to be jealous about.

"My one wish after this entire show ends is for people to see me as Y/n, the leader of Asthete. The one who puts a lot of effort into their craft and passion. Not just a shadow of my brother."

Bada's eyes soften at your determined gaze. She could feel how much you meant every word you said to her. She could only assume how bad it was for you, but Bada never realized how much it affected your mental until you spoke to her.

Somehow, that being your first proper interaction and conversation with each other made Bada's heart race. She wasn't expecting you to open up, but she really appreciated it, as it motivated her.

You notice all the noise in the room behind her, "You wanna head down with me, or are you still waiting for your team?"

"I'll probably wait to make sure they don't take their sweet time," Bada jokes, and you give her a genuine laugh, knowing how it feels to have a team all younger than you. "Don't worry, I totally understand."

You then bow, excusing yourself to get to the main stage, where you see all of Jam Republic ready. "Kristen! Ling!" You say, coming up to the leader with a massive hug. You met the girls on your travel to New Zealand for a dance collaboration and loved their energy, causing you to keep in contact. "Hey, girl! Long time no see."

You pout, "I know, I've been busy, so I never got to visit you guys over there," you tell her as you point to Ling, trying to involve her in the conversation. She also hugs you and plays with your long, silky hair that was currently ashy brown in color. As the three talk, Bebe comes down and sees the interaction. "She's close to all of them?" Bada mumbled to herself. Lusher looks in their direction as well. "I guess so."

You begin telling jokes and stories about the recent classes you've taught. The newly arriving team saw you showing them a sample of a choreography, you probably made. You looked so happy and smiled brightly as you moved for them, not going all out to save energy. A smile frames Bada’s face as she takes a seat, comparing your energy to a child showing off a piece of candy they got.

Rather than the serious personality you showed when you first came in, you did a 180, displaying your doe eyes and bunny smile. "Oh, Audrey, I've meaning to say how big of a fan I am of your dancing."

Bada's thoughts stray away as she can't help but keep her eyes locked on your figure.

She wasn't gonna lie to herself. You are super attractive as you carry yourself with confidence and assertiveness.

The genes were strong, too. You looked like the female version of your brother, which was a given, but your nose just seemed a bit smaller and your lips were evidently plumper. From the eyes down to the smile and even tattoos that she could see, you were almost a carbon copy of him.

"Oo~ our teacher has some interest in the leader of Aesthete," Tatter teases, and Bada scoffs. "I'm just realizing how much she looks like Jungkook-nim."

"You got that right," Tatter says, and Minah butts in, "As hot as him too." The girls giggle at her comment, but they can't help but agree. "She's so cool," Cheche says.

You begin to raise the sleeves of your flannel, out of habit, as you continue your chat with Jam Republic and team Bebe's eyes widen. You had a few minimal tattoos on your left arm, but your right arm was what caught their attention.

Inked on your arm was a full sleeve covering your forearms and down to your hands. The tattoos were all in a delicate art style, but as they covered your entire arm, the combination was badass. It did suit you, but now your adorable image was flipped upside down in Bada’s mind.

If only you saw her gaze. It looked like she wanted to do unimaginable things to you, but in a quick flash, she realizes the setting she’s in and shakes her head a bit.

"She looks like she would beat someone up," Tatter mumbles, but Bada can't help but think your face doesn't match your body. You had innocent doe eyes and a cute smile while your body looked ready for a boxing match, from the tattoos down to your noticeable muscles. "The Jeon bloodline must be strong," Minah mumbles, but everyone agrees.

The rest of the crews begin entering, and you wave off the girls, returning to your team.

"Whoever is battling first better hype up the entire crowd. My hands are literally sweating right now," Ling says, but you side-eye her with a questioning stare. Emma noticed this, nudging Ling in your direction, causing the two of them to laugh.

Once they commence the battles, everyone gets nervous. "The first no-respect battle is... 1Million Redy."

Your gaze follows Redy as she comes down from her spot. "The person I pick as the weakest dancer is..." She teases the crowd, approaching Deep N Dap or Lady Bounce. Redy then does a complete reverse and stands before the light blue team, "Bada of Bebe."

An obnoxious squeal could be heard, and you covered your ears at the sudden pitch. Looking over your shoulder to see it was Heaven, your eyes grow wide. You never knew that sound could come from her body, as she was always the quiet one on the team.

"THE Bada Lee dancing? Take my money now." Enyo rolls her eyes and slaps her, "Dude, don't be embarrassing us...Have some dignity, please."

Your chuckle pulls the two girls out of their tiny argument, and they continue to pay attention. If Bada got Heaven to react that way, you knew you had to pay attention to her in this battle. The younger girl barely gives anyone a reaction but her members, yet here she was, fangirling over Bebe's leader.

You look over and see the taller woman nod her head. "Redy of 1Million picks Bada of Bebe as the worst dancer."

"I just don't respect you," Redy ends straight and clear. "That's it."

Bada slightly paces and smirks, "Not Redy. Soobin. You're still an eighth grader to me." You smile at the comment, feeling the hype after the comments. "Whaaaa~ unnie. This. Is. Amazing." Lyn jumps up and down as she holds onto your shoulders, keeping her balanced. You stayed seated as the battle began and couldn't help but stare at Bada. Her cold face would get countered by her confident personality.

Redy dances, and you nod your head ever so often. While the battle continues, you feel a pair of eyes staring at you.

You look across the stage and around until you see the pair of eyes that cause your alertness. It was Manequeen's own Barbie doll, Redlic. Your attention was back to the dance where you see Bada about to begin.

Your eyes travel all over her body as she teases the younger girl with her dance, the grinding, body rolls, the taunting? You loved seeing it all. She dominated the stage as a one-man act, and you applaud her for that, which she notices and bows. That was the first time you gave someone a reaction as you all filmed, so she felt good about her performance.

"Cards are open in 3! 2! 1!"

The judges flipped their cards quickly, showing Bebe winning 3:0. Monika picked up the mic and told Redy, "Compared to Bada, you did dance like an eighth grader." Saying it in a casual tone made even you feel hurt.

Everyone sits, and the following battle is about to occur, "Mannaqueen's Redlic, please take the stage."

She wastes no time, walking up to your crew and giving you a seductive look. "The dancer I pick with no respect is Jeon Y/n." You smirk at this and grab your mic.

"Redlic, why did you choose Y/n as the no-respect dancer?"

"I wanted to see if she could set the stage on fire with me on it," causing a very evident chuckle to come out of you. "I can. I can even make it burn," you say confidently.

"Alright, the fight shall begin!"

When it begins, Redlic starts feeling up her body to "Needed Me" by Rihanna and swaying her body. She gets closer to you, going around and shaking her ass in front of you, causing you to bite your lips at her antics. You’d never deny a beautiful woman making moves on you, even if it was just for her dance.

She adds some floor work and ensures she shows out using all her space. Redlic had you entranced for some time, and before you knew it, it was your turn, "3! 2! 1! Switch!"

Your song was "Or Nah" by Ty Dolla $ign, and as you begin, you take off your jacket, revealing your sleeveless white top, and everyone's eyes go wide seeing your arms and full tattoos. You were starting to look like a hot commodity on stage, and Redlic couldn't help but lick her lips at the sight.

Behind you, Bada was still trying to gather herself after her battle, but her face flushed again once you removed your flannel. She felt her body heating up and hoped to cover up her reactions by hiding behind her hands.

You grind on the floor, body rolling on Redlic's body while kneeling, then pull yourself up. You did some ticking moves and mixed in some slow motion in there. As you slow-mo a hip-grabbing movement, you go into a motion of locking and popping. Then, slide on the floor, adding a flip to finish your sensual dance.

Bada stares, the hardest she probably ever has, and you lock eyes for a second. Seeing her face and body language formed a sly grin on your face, making her look away, now blushing furiously. She can’t even keep her head in the game when she hears your win of 3:0 against Redlic.

"Unnie?" Lusher stares at her leader, who follows the direction of her eyes, and laughs at the realization. "Unnie, this isn't like you at all!" The sub-leader claps as she laughs, and Bada can't do anything but tell her to shut up, which only causes her to laugh harder.

After a few more battles, you could all take a 30-minute break before resuming.

Everyone sat down chatting, and you were again talking to Jam Republic. You and Audrey had tied 3 times in battle until they decided you won your last match. "Dude, I need to know how you did that neck-breaking move," you ask Audrey, and she giggles shyly. "Let me show you."

She shows you the move, and as you copy it perfectly, she claps for you, "Yes! Well, you got it, fast girl." You laugh at her and talk about her first dance battle. "Man, the first bone-breaking move was insane."

"Which one?"

"Oh, uh, this one," You show the move she hits during "Low" by Flo Rida. Audrey begins jumping excitedly, almost fangirling for you, even if it was her own move. Everyone in the studio notices your interaction with JR and gossip about it.

"I saw them talking before, so they must know each other."

"Well, I'm pretty sure Y/n has taught a class with Latirce and Kristen before, so it's unsurprising."

You make more friends and move to Bebe, who doesn't notice your presence. That was until Kyma looked like she'd seen a ghost in front of her, causing them to look behind and gasp, seeing you standing there in front of them.

"Hey," was the only thing that came out of your mouth, yet all of the Bebe members stared at you like you had just told them the most remarkable speech on the planet. Well, everyone other than Bada.

She stared at you with enticing eyes, and you quickly took notice of her motive. Regarding the No-respect battles, you had already danced in 5, most girls explaining it was just for fun. In every action you participated in, your eyes met with Bada's, and you never knew what ran through that head of hers as you couldn't even think while dancing.

But you figured it out now.

"Ah, Y/n-nim, I'm a big fan," Minah bows, and you wave your arms, trying to deny any praise. "You're an excellent dancer, no need to deny it. Pretty face and stage present too," Tatter says, mumbling the last part, but you heard it. Your hand guides Tatter's head to face you, and you smile, "If I'm pretty, you're gorgeous."

Her face turns bright red, and you pat her head, finding it cute. You then see a familiar face amongst the crew, "Lusher, it's been a while since you've been to one of my classes." The sub-leader's face is full of embarrassment for being called out. "Don't worry, I'm not mad about it," you tell her, and Lusher's tense body relaxes.

"I've just been more focused on Bebe the past year, but maybe after the show, you'd let me back in?"

"You're always welcome at my place. Any of you are, honestly. Nothing wrong with expanding your horizons in dance." You announce, but Bada scoffs a little. "This feels a bit insulting to me. I am their teacher, you know."

You had no ill intent behind your comment, but you wanted to tease her, "You can always join me too. I'm sure you'll be my number one student."

The two's faces are just inches away, both having a condescending smirk on their faces. Members of Bebe look at each other, feeling the intensity of their stares, but their eyes go large at your pitched idea.

"How do you think about this? After the show, we collaborate in a choreography and class, and then we can dance together. No competition needed." Your fingers then point to your crew and Bada's crew, "We can all dance together."

You were now leaning your arms on the bench, Bada sitting between your sleeveless arms. Lusher and Tatter can't help but giggle at the sight. It was like a fox versus a fox.

"Sure, but I don't know if I can wait that long to be a top student again." You read the subtly in her voice, implying something you couldn't put your finger on. You lick your lips at her gaze and grin.

"Win two more battles, and I'll take my top student out to dinner?'

Bebe's eyes widen again in shock. Never seen Bada's eyes look so mischievous as they did now.

"Deal~"

A/n: The ending feels super lacking on this one, but I might make a part 2 to satisfy myself😭.

-sivine

#bada lee x fem reader #bada lee #bada lee x reader #gxg #wlw #bebe #jam republic #swf2 x reader #street woman fighter 2 #street woman fighter x reader #ssivinee

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