armor up

[wakeupnew]

Oh my God. Day. Worst. Do not even want to discuss.

Please take a second and leave me prompt(s). Multiples are cool. I'm most into Glee right now, so Glee prompts have by far the highest probability of being answered. I just want to write about things that are not my life right now! Show choir fits!

P.S. - Just because I'm cranky doesn't mean that prompts have to be sad to match or happy to compensate; I'm good with the gamut of emotions/ideas. For reals. I'll work with anything people throw at me! But, again, highest probability of answers for: Glee prompts, specifically ones that get a little more specific than, like -- listing a character and a color and saying the word 'go.'

Comments

[tinylegacies.livejournal.com]

I want something light & fluffy with Brittany and Santana plz!

[wakeupnew]

"I feel like a bell," Brittany says happily. "Ding dong, ding dong." With each pair of words, she tilts her hips to one side then the other. The effect is actually pretty bell-like, thanks to the shape of the dress and the gold color.

Santana gets it, anyway, even if Jones is shooting Brittany a funny look from the mirror beside them.

Santana ignores Mercedes, and Quinn -- who's sharing the counter as she touches up her lipstick -- and Rachel and Tina at the third mirror. Santana has already put the finishing touches on their hair, but Brittany is, like, physically incapable of not moving.

"Be a bell if you want, but keep your head still," Santana orders briskly, hard at work with an aerosol can of hairspray and an intent expression.

Brittany immediately, obediently stops moving. "Bells don't have heads," she says, after a moment's consideration.

Santana's eyebrows momentarily furrow, then lift again. She gives Brittany's teased hair a critical pat. It doesn't so much as twitch. Santana is a genius. A hair genius.

There's a knock at the door. "Girls?" says Mr. Schue's voice, from outside. "It's time."

Santana doesn't miss the intakes of breath that come from the line of girls standing along the counter. Whatever. Clearly, not everybody here is used to putting a smile on and being thrown 20 feet into the air in high-pressure situations where your coach has threatened to make a coat out of your ponytails if she's not 152% pleased with how hard your performance rocked her face off.

Berry turns toward them, clasping her hands in front of herself. "Well, ladies," she says, in that incredibly Rachel way, "let's--"

Santana rolls her eyes and cuts the mind-blowingly stupid inspirational speech off at the pass. "Let's kick all their asses," she says, and Mercedes laughs and Tina whoops; even cranky-ass preggo Quinn cracks a smile. Rachel looks, for a second, like she wants to fight back -- and then she smiles, too.

"Let's do it," she says fiercely, and every girl in the bathroom knows she's thinking about the look on Jesse St. James's face when they beat Vocal Adrenaline.

Santana can get behind that.

Rachel stalks out of the bathroom, head held high; shaking their heads a little at each other (because there is no other good reaction to Rachel freaking Berry) but looking no less determined, Mercedes and Quinn follow. Tina's hot on their heels

Santana pats Brittany's hair down one last time and looks at her in the mirror. "Ready?" she asks, and by now, it's a rhetorical question. Brittany gets it better than anyone. Brittany's ready.

Brittany beams into the mirror. "I'm Brittany, bitch." Santana grins like a wolf, underhands the hairspray into the trash can, hooks pinkies with Brittany, and marches out to meet the bus.

[genarti]

Yessssssss.